People that know me, know of my love and search for things that open my eyes, and make me aware.
With that in mind, here is one of my favorite Bill Hixson stories…
It was 1983, I was coming up on my first Christmas dating Deb. I wanted something nice, something special, and something that showed I cared and listened. Running out of ideas, I stopped by Hixson’s Flower Barn. It had been 20 years since I had been in there or seen Bill. Bill had been a lifelong friend of the family, ever since my uncle helped him buy the building he is in.
The place was packed, just days before Christmas. I walked through the maze of rooms, back to where the ornaments were. After looking through the thousands of ornaments, I spotted a blue gorilla that I knew Deb would love. I grabbed the ornament and went to the end of the long line. As the line moved, I saw that Bill was at the end, talking with customers, helping them find things, and generally doing what he does best, be Mr. Christmas.
As I got up to the cash register, I said hello to Bill, reminding him of who I was, who I was related to, and re-establishing connections. I paid for the perfect gift ornament, and it was handed to Bill, who then looked down at it, and told me where it was from, who made it, etc. I listened intently to each word. It was about that time, my change was ready. As I turned to get the change, Mr. Hixson pulled out a black Sharpie marker, and signed the gorilla ornament. I was horrified, but smiled and looked up and thanked him.
When I got home, I went down in the basement to hide the gift and look at it. I pulled out this cute blue gorilla ornament and turned it around to see the damage done-- Bill had signed it right across the front! There would be no hiding it! This was terrible. Days of looking for the perfect gifts, only to have it tagged by some 60-year-old vandal! So after a sleepless night, I went back to the store in the morning. There was only one more of those gorilla ornaments left, and the place had been packed. I hoped it was still there.
Walking in, seconds after Matthais opened the door, I walked past Eunice, who said, “Hello Mr. O’Bryan.” Which took me back. I had re-established a connection of sorts, but Eunice had no reason to know me or my name. I nodded and headed back to the ornament rooms. Walking back and forth I finally found the last blue gorilla ornament, and headed to the cash register. At the cash register Bill was handling the early morning duty. I was hoping to get in, buy an ornament un-vandalized, and get it in a box and under the tree.
As Bill saw me, he mentioned thinking about our connections that went far beyond the sale of the building. My aunt was one of the early students at his floral school. At night she would come home and share with family and friends what she had learned. Soon Bill was stopping over and helping with the impromptu classes. It went from floral arrangements, to gold cone angels, to pine cone wreaths, each year a different project that would be overseen at some point by the master, Bill Hixson.
Bill asked about the relatives, and I explained that most had passed away. He genuinely looked sad, and started talking to me about them, Christmas, life, etc. The store hadn’t gotten busy, so I was able to spend a little time with the legend. It didn’t take long for him to teach me a very important lesson: that even as a senior, his mind was fabulous, sharp, and at times childlike with his ability to apply a child’s enthusiasm along with a deep, deep knowledge base that only comes from decades on the planet.
As he looked at the ornament, he noticed it was the same as I had bought the day before, and asked about it. Feeling embarrassed about getting upset over him tagging the last one, and with a new appreciation of the legend, I lied and told him that it had broken on the way home. I cannot believe I was lucky enough to get the last one, I told him. He then started to inquire how it happened, and said that he would be more than willing to give me the other one, if in any way I thought it was his fault. This totally took me back, and made me feel even more foolish. I assured him it was not his fault, and that I had been careless. He made one more offer to give it to me. Now feeling lower than low, I assured him it would not be necessary, I would be happy to pay for it and get it wrapped and under the tree.
He rang it up, went to get a box, came back and said, “Well you want me to sign this one too, right?” I am sure I looked like a deer in the headlights. I had walked in hoping to avoid the vandal tagging ornaments all together, now here I was not only being confronted by him, but also deep into a life lesson that would stick with me for the rest of my life. Time stood still as I looked into his twinkling eyes. Had I been outed? Was he just messing with me? You could see it all in his eyes and on his face. As I looked around the room it was obvious that this was a man who lived to make everyone happy, and to make their holiday experiences as good as the ones he dreamt and read of. He was deep in his glory having provided another person with a perfect Christmas gift. This was truly a man who lived for Christmas and the joy it brought. This guy was Mr. Christmas-- it was not just a sales name. I looked at him and said, “I was hoping you would.”
He smiled, pulling out the Sharpie and tagging the second blue gorilla. The first one was given to my wife on Christmas morning, who was excited to see the blue monkey ornament, but not nearly as excited as she was to see Bill’s signature. Later we gave the other one to my uncle, who was giddy when he saw it, and placed it next to the other Hixson-signed ornaments in his collection. Each year Deb and I would go back not just to visit but to buy ornaments, and stand in line to get them signed. There was something magical, almost like visiting Santa. You would stand in a long line, and see the interactions with others, while people slowed down and talked with each other, and time would go back to when we were all kids. Then you would see Bill and visit as he signed the ornament, and completed the visit. Well almost, Eunice would always grab you on the way out of the store asking, “Did you get everything you needed or were looking for?” A euphoric smile would come over the customer who would nod and say Yes, Merry Christmas!
It is hard to believe that part is now gone forever.
RIP Bill Hixson and Eunice.
Bill with his Valentine Show back in 2010.
Hixson's Flower Barn, his second location in Lakewood, but the one that launched the legend.
At one time Bill had stores from the far east side of Cleveland, west to Lorain, Ohio. With classes all over America and the world.
This is Hixson's Gift Cottage at Edwards and Detroit, where the Truck Park is now.
Another photo of Bill with his Valentines. I tried to get Bill with his immense collections.
Bill in the Christmas Tree room, that was like his second office.
Bill holding court with visitors, customers and of course the ladies.
Bill standing in front of a small part of his Easter Egg Collection.
Bill in the ornament room in 2014.
Bill with the Hixson Flower Barn ornament. He was so proud, telling me, "I can't believe I never did this before a Hixson ornament." I smiled and said, "Bill they are all Hixson ornaments." He smiled.
2019
2020
Dave Beuhler Mr. Templar Motor Cars with Bill Hixson
2021
2022
Pizza with Bill. I post this to show you Bill loved life and Deluxe/Supreme Pizza.
These are from October 2022, they sum up our friendship.
Bill shows very seriously unveils the new ornaments.
I tell him I need a solid background and he opens his coat.
Now I get to my last image of a person I love dearly.
Bill Hixson selling it, "You want to buy a Christmas Memory? After all Hixson's sells memories, not stuff!"
Hixson's two appearances in Lakewoodites.
Updated after his death version. This comic appeared the week before he passed away. He saw it and it made him laugh and cry. He was so proud of both appearances in Lakewood's favorite comic.
Goodbye Bill, say hello Eunice.
peace/love