THE TRUCK STOP STORY
 > >
 > > In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six
 > > hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their
 > > father was gone.
 > >
 > > The boys ranged from three months to seven years;
 > > their sister was two. Their Dad had never been
 > > much more than a presence they feared.
 > >
 > > Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel
 > > driveway they would scramble to hide under their
 > > beds. He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy
 > > groceries. Now that he had decided to leave,
 > > there would be no more beatings, but no food
 > > either.
 > >
 > > If there was a welfare system in effect in southern
 > > Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.
 > > I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new
 > > and then put on my best homemade dress. I
 > > loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove
 > > off to find a job.
 > >
 > > The seven of us went to every factory, store and
 > > restaurant in our small town. No luck.
 > > The kids stayed, crammed into the car and tried
 > > to be quiet while I tried to convince whoever
 > > would listen that I was willing to learn or do
 > > anything. I had to have a job. Still no luck.
 > >
 > > The last place we went to, just a few miles out
 > > of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that
 > > had been converted to a truck stop. It was called
 > > the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny owned
 > > the place and she peeked out of the window from
 > > time to time at all those kids. She needed someone
 > > on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in
 > > the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could
 > > start that night.
 > >
 > > I raced home and called the teenager down the
 > > street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with
 > > her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night.
 > > She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids
 > > would already be asleep. This seemed like a good
 > > arrangement to her, so we made a deal.
 > >
 > > That night when the little ones and I knelt to
 > > say our prayers we all thanked God for finding
 > > Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.
 > > When I got home in the mornings I woke the
 > > baby-sitter up and sent her home with one
 > > dollar of my tip money-fully half of what I averaged
 > > every night.
 > >
 > > As the weeks went by, heating bills added another
 > > strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old
 > > Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and
 > > began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the
 > > way to work and again every morning before I could go
 > > home.
 > >
 > > One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car
 > > to go home and found four tires in the back seat.
 > > New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just
 > > those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up
 > > residence in Indiana? I wondered.
 > >
 > > I made a deal with the owner of the local service
 > > station. In exchange for his mounting the new
 > > tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me
 > > a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to
 > > do the tires.
 > >
 > > I was now working six nights instead of five and
 > > it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and
 > > I knew there would be no money for toys for the
 > > kids.
 > >
 > > I found a can of red paint and started repairing
 > > and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the
 > > basement so there would be something for Santa
 > > to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a
 > > worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches
 > > on the boys pants and soon they would be too far
 > > gone to repair.
 > >
 > > On Christmas Eve the usual customers were
 > > drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the
 > > truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper
 > > named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around
 > > after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels
 > > in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat
 > > around and talked through the wee hours of the morning
 > > and then left to get home before the sun came up.
 > >
 > > When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock
 > > on Christmas morning I hurried to the car. I was
 > > hoping the kids wouldn't wake up before I managed
 > > to get home and get the presents from the basement
 > > and place them under the tree. (We had cut down a
 > > small cedar tree by the side of the road down by
 > > the dump.)
 > >
 > > It was still dark and I couldn't see much, but there
 > > appeared to be some dark shadows in the car or
 > > was that just a trick of the night? Something
 > > certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what.
 > > When I reached the car I peered warily into one of the side
 > > windows. Then my jaw dropped in amazement.
 > >
 > > My old battered Chevy was filled full to the top
 > > with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the
 > > driver's side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in
 > > the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I
 > > pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a
 > > whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked
 > > inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the
 > > jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There
 > > were candy and nuts and bananas and bags of
 > > groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking,
 > > and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was
 > > pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and
 > > flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and
 > > cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and
 > > one beautiful little doll.
 > >
 > > As I drove back through empty streets as the sun
 > > slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of
 > > my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will
 > > never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that
 > > precious morning.
 > >
 > > Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago
 > > December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel
 > > truck stop.
 > > >>

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