Editor's note: Originally published in December 2022.
It can be hard to muster the strength to talk about the concept of “Christmas magic.”
There’s the “magic” we instill in the youngest among us, which helps keep that glimmer alive in ourselves. But this December, I am far more interested in the real “magic” that goes on, often behind the scenes and under-appreciated, at best.
I have the glimpse of a memory of being around 10 years old, helping with my fellow Boy Scouts (shout out to Troop 431 in Sinking Spring, Berks County) arranging and sorting toys for a Toys for Tots gift giveaway. At the time, the entire enterprise felt lost on me — it was just another opportunity to mess around with my friends while the adults tried to wrangle some actual volunteering out of us.
Fast forward two decades: I found myself thinking about the mechanisms that help something so giant actually work year after year. After reaching out to coordinator Gilbert Bixler, I signed myself up to volunteer on one of the six nights of toy giving at the old Sears Auto Center in Park City Center.
It essentially works like a very slowed down and meticulous version of the old “Supermarket Sweep” show — families apply in advance to pick up toys, and the organization schedules them on one of six nights to come. Upon arrival, parents are paired with a volunteer to help guide them through the age- and gender-separated tables of toys, with another volunteer on hand at the end to help load the goods into vehicles.
The operation requires months of planning and dozens of volunteers each night, and to see it run smoothly for hours on end was a wondrous thing. Local businesses donate food to the volunteers each night, and on Tuesday, the break room was filled with boxes of pizza, pasta, salad and even a legit hot dog roller.
READ: Behind the bells: A look at what it takes to be a Salvation Army ringer during the holidays
The roles
Bixler graciously gave me a tour of the building in the weeks before my volunteer night, but it still seemed daunting by the time I showed up Tuesday night.
Around 5:45 p.m., warehouse manager Mara Braegelmann wrangled up the dozens of volunteers to deliver marching orders for the evening. Getting 450 to 500 families through the door in the next few hours was the goal, she explained. Over 2,600 families had signed up for spots throughout the week, with tens of thousands of toys donated from people and corporations alike to be distributed.
Braegelmann explained the three types of jobs that make the night run like clockwork: — The shoppers, who walk with parents through the aisles and help them properly retrieve gifts.
— The runners, who help bring the gifts to cars and retrieve other items.
— (What I call) the “Table Sitters,” who run the different tables and keep them populated with gifts.
Volunteers run the gamut from young to old, though Tuesday featured appearances from a few Lancaster Young Marines, Boy Scout Troop 64 from Rohrerstown and the Penn Manor High School baseball team, skewing it a bit younger. Since I am relatively able-bodied, and with the Penn Manor guys in orange vests as runners, I decided to serve as a shopper for the evening, grabbed a cart and headed for the line.
I got paired with my first parent, a Lancaster city mother of three named Janet. After introducing myself and asking what her children liked — which would wind up continually being my favorite part of the experience — I mentioned that this was my first time helping in this way. Janet smiled, saying that this was not her first time, and that she would help me out. I wound up needing that help immediately, as I didn’t initially understand the toy lines, attempting to crisscross between them when we were meant to stay moving straight ahead.
As Bixler had explained to me, people often assume that there are better toys in one line over another, but each of the lines had the same abundance to be picked through. Legos, Barbies, sports items — nearly every niche childhood item was not only represented on the tables, but usually with multiples ready as soon as something had been chosen. For each child, parents could choose three toys and a book, as well as a bag of stocking stuffers, a copy of the classic holiday book “The Polar Express,” and, until they ran out, a Hess truck.
READ: Did you know one of Lancaster County's most popular Santa Clauses was a woman?
The magic
By night’s end, I had traveled through the line well over a dozen times and felt like I could have kept going after the 9 p.m. stop time. When learning of my newbie status, the other volunteers uniformly smiled and said some version of, “Oh, you’ll be back next year.” Volunteering can be infectious, especially when the experience is as positive as this was.
It was clinched when I met Sally.
In most cases, the organization recommends that parents leave their children at home, as it can make the process difficult in a variety of ways. But at one point, I received the pleasant surprise of 12-year-old Sally, accompanying her mother, Dagneisha. Sally was respectful and polite, but clearly in awe of the proceedings.
“We’re so thankful for this. There’s kids at my school who don’t get any presents,” Sally said, looking out over the warehouse.
Just then, a Santa Claus wandered by, presumably making sure the gift giving was up to usual North Pole standards.
“I told my other daughter that Santa was here,” Dagneisha said with a smile. “And she texted me back, ‘I’ll be good, I got you, Santa.’ ” Having an actual child along for the ride, I couldn’t help but bend the rules ever so slightly. At the book table, Sally quickly picked her book and loaded it into the box, before a second one caught her eye. She held it up to examine it and then shot me a quick look.
If you remember your childhood at all, you probably remember giving this look to the adults in your life at one point or another. It can’t be accurately described with words, but it boils down to, “C’mon, please?” with far more of the letter “e” in “please.”
That look contained all the “Christmas magic” I could hope to find.
She got that second book.