A Child, a Child shivers in the cold

Is a line from the Christmas Carol "Do You Hear What I hear?"

Driving around really late one night (6pm)... side note to those maybe reading this in Early Spring, laugh damnit, it's a Daylight Savings joke.  Thanks.... where was I....

Oh yeah... anyways, it was dark. Tuesday, November 16....There they were...  Christmas Lights, first of the season.. (Our town square has had lights for awhile now, but they're all white, so, to me, that ain't really Christmas.)

We, we of our present society, have been outta joint ever since that damn Miller Lite "Taste Great", "NO, LESS FILLING" commercial.  Heightened by social media, we easily bitch about any/everything now. (brb, going for a Rolaid.)

Those will say "Are you kidding me?  We're barely past Halloween, we haven't even had Thanksgiving yet..NO!"... Then, there's those other those who retort with "Do you hear what I hear" to the background of Christmas music, followed by Taste Great/Less Filling, "KMA".

Aging, we say, helps us now to not get all flustered one way or the other about many things.  ie, not get as excited, hell bent as we usedta.  I kinda liken that to "Damn, I'm old, I HATE the mirror, I'm gonna put a positive spin on this aging crap."

Truthfully, I don't mind November 16 Christmas lights.  To each his/her own.  I will admit, working as a lad at TG&Y in good ole Liberty, MO... Christmas Carols starting December 1 all about the store... twas a bit much until maybe a few days just before Christmas.

A side story, continued talk about aging/Christmas.  For a half dozen years or so, before the days of masks/no masks, vaccine/no vaccine, taste great/less filling - we'd (just a group of friends) go to area nursing homes to sing Christmas Carols.  Many years our numbers were great, folks loved us, we could drown out putrid voices like yours truly.  Other years, we spent the days leading up to caroling begging, pleading folks to come with us - many wouldn't, and we'd sound HORRIBLE.  Still, the old folks loved it. (Scroll to aging/positive spin.).  

I have two favorite moments from those experiences.. I've told the first one before, so, taste great/less filling, get over it if you've heard it before.  Twas one of those begging years..  we had some very adept females, coupled with some very tone deaf males.  Smiles were had, folks sang along..we'd go up and down the halls, singing in the rooms of folks that couldn't get up on their own... and we'd end right back where we started, in the lobby, where the vast majority of folks gathered to hear us. People were smiley, life was good, then.... this one lady walks up to our group and announces, "I usedta be the choir director at church, and you men could use some serious help." I laughed outside, cried inside, and i laugh more as I think back on it.

Favorite moment #2 (but first..)..  The very first year, I was a scaredy cat. (Word underlined 'scaredy', so, howinthehell do you spell it?)... ok, so, first year, I was nervous, there, how's that...Neither of my folks were ever in a nursing home, I simply didn't know what it'd be like, I figured the worst, very sad - and there were sad cases.  I remember one moment where I was brought to tears and had to temporarily leave the singing group.  I recognized a lady in a chair.  Her son and i were very good friends, heck, she and I were very good friends.. she was quite the golfer and used to kick my rear frequently when we played.  Anyways, she was catatonic.  Reality sets in..... so, back to positive moment #2.

Another lady... She too sat in a chair.. appeared to be much like my friend's mother... silent... eyes closed the entire time.. until.... until we got to "Silent Night".. then, and just then, you could read her lips.. she was singing along with us. God Blesss I hope she was reliving, in her mind, childhood, parenthood, etc.  It was a true feel good.

Like life, Christmas runs the gambit of emotions. Empty chairs. Baby carriers nearby the family dinner table.  My cousin passed away way too early in life.. His family took all of his ties, placed them in circular fashion around the base of the Christmas tree... with a sign, "Tied forever.".. Jubilant children.  The wonderful aromas coming from kitchen... the furnace, fireplace, wood stove - keeping us all warm to temporarily forget the extreme cold outside. The look on kid's faces when "Mark, set, Go!" finally happens, and 3 hours of present wrapping and 'destroyed' in 3 minutes.  Children comparing their haul to siblings, cousins, etc, an early script perhaps of taste great/less filling. Up/down. November 16 Christmas lights?  Do you hear what I hear, KMA.

Strictly my opine. Christmas, every year, but particularly this year, gives us a much needed break from a world that has had two consecutive down years.  Bring it on.

And then...

And then...

And then..  there's that moment (I remember VIVIDLY) when a sibling, cousin, friend, relates "There is no Santa Claus."

At the very bottom, I've copied a story from my friend Karen as to whether or not there is a Santa Claus, I enjoyed it, hope you do as well.. . (As well as, "A Child, a Child, shivers in the cold.")

Merry Christmas.. OK, sorry, I'll wait a bit.. Happy Thanksgiving..... I'm going to go have a Miller Lite...  scratch that, I'll have a Modelo..  Feliz Navidad.  Love, Victurd

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I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. 

It had to be true. 

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" She snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."  "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. 

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.  That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car. "Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. 

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself.  The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. 

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.  Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! 

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.  "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.  "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."  The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers. 

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge, "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."  I took a deep breath, dashed for his front porch, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of bushes and Grandma.  Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to finally open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering beside my Grandma in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible with the coat tag tucked inside:$19.95.