Behold, a Christmas couch - and one extraordinary
family
This was one Christmas the Dally family would not be denied
their dream. They wanted a sectional couch, one of those contraptions
that comes apart and can be arranged in different ways. But Dallys were poor, so poor that all they had in the living
room of their farmhouse was an old flattened couch, dark green
with padding sticking out each arm. This was not a humorous situation. For years, the Dally family
had been on the list of troubled parents in the school district,
and almost every teacher had been warned that Dally children might
be trouble. But they weren't. The Dally children got perfect grades,
never caused a commotion and often helped to clean the classroom. Yes, they loved their classrooms slick and clean. And if the
other children created a mess with their muddy boots, the Dally
children would run for a mop and have the cloakroom dirt-free
in a matter of moments. The teachers would often talk about the
children of this poor family and wonder aloud why they did not
cause problems or get bad grades. Truthfully, the Dally family was rather unique. I doubt that
any of the townspeople could remember a time when the Dallys were
unhappy or frowning. Every weekday, Stub and Gloria would rattle
into town in their old pickup, stop at the post office and then
at the local coffee shop. They would sit on one of the stools and talk to anyone in the
place. They seldom drank coffee, unless the owner poured free
cups. Finally, they would drive past the Lutheran church just
to see if anything important was going on and then home for a
bite to eat by high noon. This became such a ritual that teachers and Mr. Elfey, the
school superintendent, would often speculate about the five Dally
children. "Listen," Elfey would say, his head beginning to
bob, glasses falling to the tip of his nose. "The fact is,
none of those children has ever graduated. We just don't know
what we can expect. The oldest, she started school at 6 years
and 5 months. That's why she's doing so well," he would say. Diatribes like that were repeated often, the Dally children
being such a mystery to all the teachers. But the children of Stub and Gloria Dally continued to be the
academic stars. I was there. I taught them. I watched them grow
in stature and wisdom through the years. Then one Christmas, the word circulated around school that
the members of the Dally family had their hearts set on a sectional
couch. Every teacher began to speculate on how this would happen.
"They'll back that old pickup to a furniture store and just
carry it out," someone said. But the Dally family would never do anything illegal, nor would
they stiff an honest store owner. So one evening, as the children did their homework around the
kitchen table, Stub and Gloria went into the living room and sawed
the old green couch in half. Then they wrapped it in newspapers,
draped some red ribbon on it and pushed it into the corner, where
it sat until Christmas Eve. When all the students returned to school, I asked my fifth-grade
class about their Christmas experience, and Wayne Dally, a 10-year-old,
was first with his hand in the air. "We got a sectional couch," he said with the widest
of eyes. "And we got a Monopoly game and a pair of mittens." That's all he said. The children of the class accepted the
news gladly. There are no secrets in this story. The five children of the
Dally family all went on to great things. Stub and Gloria lived
into their 70s and died quietly as good Christian people. Finally, the notion spread in that small town that the most
important thing was to be with your children, to listen to them
and help them and enjoy their sometimes bizarre ideas. That's what Stub and Gloria did.
Clark D. Morphew
Posted For December 25, 1999