2025 Essay Contest Winners

“The Best Gift I Ever Gave”

First Prize ($300)

Growing up in Silver Springs, Florida, our house faced a sandy dirt road, where you could see folks traveling from a grocery store down the way that sold a little bit of everything. Down the road from us lived Aunt Sally with her 12 children. Two of them walked barefoot to the store every day to get a block of ice for their icebox. They would call out a hello on their way to the store, and we would wave. Coming back, they were in a big hurry so that the ice wouldn’t melt. They would pick it up with their fingers and run as far as they could before dropping it in the sand and waiting for their fingers to warm up. 

One morning, Dad took me and my brother, Tommy, into town to the local hardware store to look at little red wagons. We bought the shiniest one. After supper, we walked to Aunt Sally’s house to deliver the wagon. All the little kids gathered round and took turns being pulled in it. The next afternoon, as they walked to the store, they were grinning and singing. Coming home, they were pulling the little red wagon with a block of ice.

–Susan S. Brownewell, Palmetto, Florida

Second Prize ($200)

Waking up one stormy Christmas Eve morning in my Brazos River dwelling, hearing a loud mournful sound, I went outside into the drizzle and climbed over the levee, discovering a terrified heifer treading water, trapped in debris. The exhausted cow had been too close to a collapsing riverbank. What to do? Call 911 regarding a drowning cow? Having no rope, I improvised with neckties plus extension cords. Wading out and lassoing her was easy. I got her ashore, and once her hooves were on firmer turf, she bolted up the levee. After a bit of a chase, she stopped as I tried to calm her. A pickup in the distance, driving down the levee road, suddenly stopped. A woman was running toward us, crying, “Sheba!” The cow, mooing loudly, ran toward the voice. Happy reunion. The next morning, a knock at my door: the woman, carrying still-warm ko-laches as thanks for rescuing her prize cow, plus announcing that Sheba had given birth in the night after her ordeal. I never realized! My heart swelled with joy on that Christmas morning—another kind of birth in a barn. A memorable gift for sure.

–Rex Poland, Dallas, Texas

Third Prize ($100)

My wife and I were struggling to make ends meet when our car broke down. We couldn’t afford a used car, let alone a new one. A neighbor knew of our plight. He had a second car he wasn’t using and offered it to me. “What do you want for it?” I said. He looked me over, then said, “What’s it worth, d’you think.” At least $5,000, I thought, but I couldn’t say that. “Three thousand?” He nodded. “No money down. Pay in installments when you can.” We shook on it. We scrambled that summer for the first $200. When I brought it over, he shook his head. “Don’t need it at the moment,” he smiled. “Whyn’t you hold onto it, ’case a need comes up.” I almost cried. That was the cushion that kept our heads above water. 

Slowly, steadily, finally far enough ahead of the wolf at the door, we gathered $1,000 for our first payment. He had his wife meet me at the door. “It wasn’t a loan, he said for me to tell you. There’s no need to pay it back.” I never forgot their generosity. When we could pay it forward, we did. First was helping a friend with rent. Next, a Christmas for a struggling family. Sometimes, an envelope with $50 was slipped into someone’s mailbox. The ones I like best are in the checkout line behind someone who comes up short. I offer to get the missed items. If they get embarrassed, I give them a short version of my neighbor’s car story, and that smooths everything over.

–James Marino, Sun City Center, Florida

Honorable Mention

She was a senior Buff Orpington chicken—a breed I was fond of for their gentle demeanor, their golden feathers, and the bounty of big brown eggs. This hen wanted to be a mother, and her desire played out in sadness every time I’d gather her eggs. I finally let her sit a nest last autumn. Long past the hatch time, she grew sadder and sadder. Me, too. I headed out for a distant feed store that had Lavender
Orpington chicks, not Buffs. Before dusk, the about-to-be surrogate mama seemed to understand that we were trading eggs for babies. A miracle unfolded as an exhausted, grief-stricken hen turned into the most joyful mother I have ever seen. Contentedly snuggling under her, the chicks—and the hen and I—shared the best gift, ever.

–Linda Whiteley, Huachuca City, Arizona