Play me a song young man
One that comes right from the heart
Show me what’s inside if you can
Staying true from the start

Bohemian Avenue #4

It was a slow day in the carwash at the bottom of the glass tower. John turned in his dirty towels to be laundered and walked to the single metal and glass booth for the parking company’s cashier.

Today, the cashier was Margaret. She was the petite and rather buxom girl who got her auburn hair from a bottle. John liked her cheerful disposition and the ready way she joked and bantered with him.

The more John talked with her the more he found out about her. She was very open about herself when given a chance. She had been a skater with the Sesame Street On Ice show when it had come to the Target Center one year. She had dressed as Grover the blue monster from the kids’ show.

As John asked her more about her skating, she revealed that she was an aspiring dancer. In their silliness, John convinced her to show him some dance steps, and she immediately stepped out of the booth and executed a series of provocative fan kicks. John was speechless.

About that time, there was a call for a car wash, so John went to pick up the car. It turned out to be one of the cars with a wiper on the back window. He would have to take extra care when drying the back window. At least the seat had programmed positions to instantly restore the short driver’s seat to the proper distance from the pedals.

As John passed the booth to put the car back after the wash, he saw that the new guy was giving Margaret her lunch break. He had met him yesterday. He was a bible school student named Nathan. He was a freshman and obviously needed this job to help him through school. He was a nice guy from the conversations John had with him.

After parking the car, he had to go up into the tower to collect the fee, and as he was on his way back, he walked past the building security desk. One of the security guards called him over to the desk. It was Diane, a short blond that he had several conversations with recently when she had found out he had been in the Army as she had.

“Hey,” said Diane. “Is that cute guy working today in the booth downstairs?”

“Do you mean Nathan?” asked John.

“Gosh, is he ever cute!” she gushed. “I’ve got to go out with him! Better yet, take this note to him for me. Will you?”

John took the note and looked at her with interest. The idea of Nathan paired with this worldly-wise Army veteran amused him very much.

“That’s to invite him roller blading. You’ll put in a good word for me. Please?”

John looked her in the eye and affirmed it with a straight face. “I think you guys would be good together.”

John went down to find Nathan still sitting in the booth and gave him Diane’s note.

After he read it, John explained whom the author was. “She’s really gone on you. I think you should consider going out with her.”

At Nathan’s look of doubt, John said, “It’s up to you.”

He walked away thinking that the encounter could broaden his horizons a bit. At least, Nathan could experience someone from another side of life. She had reminded him of a girl he had met in the Army that he’d had a temporary crush on. He had met her daughter and if things had gone differently, he might have taken a chance with her. But he’d met his future wife a few months later, and nothing came of his crush.

Later on, Margaret was back in the booth. As they were talking, the phone rang and John was ready for another carwash order, but it was for Margaret. It turned out that Margaret wasn’t going to be picked up from work that evening, and she needed a ride home.

“I know,” she said. “I’ll treat you at Annie’s for supper if you drive me home.”

“I’ll driver you home, but you don’t have to buy me supper,” protested John.

“Oh, but I wanted to eat at Annie’s anyway,” she insisted.

“Okay, we’ll eat at Annie’s Dutch treat, and then I’ll drive you home. Is that acceptable?”

“Good,” she said smiling.

When John had pulled up to the booth that evening when work was finished, Margaret had gone through a small transformation. She had changed into a dress that put her legs in a good light, and had even applied some make up. He smelled her freshly applied perfume when she got into the car with him. She looked very attractive.

By the time they were in the parking lot of Annie’s hamburger restaurant, Margaret was in the middle of tell him about a guy she had over to the house and how he had stolen some money from a jar in her parents’ kitchen. She was now upset and John had the funny feeling she was going to ask for a hug.

Sure enough, she did and John let her hug him. She held onto him a few seconds longer than he was comfortable with as he looked out the window at the gathering dusk. There was warning flag in his mind.

Their time over their burgers was back to the comfortable friendship they had known as fellow employees of the parking ramp. She began telling how she had stalked the drummer for AC/DC and showed up at his house in New Zealand while John listened wide-eyed.

The drummer, Phil Rudd and his wife had allowed her to stay with them for more than a week. She had the chance to meet more of the band and his other friends as well. They had been very kind and tolerant of her.

When John pulled up in front of her house in the Highland Park area that night, Margaret wanted to show him her souvenirs of the trip to New Zealand. He protested that he should get going, but she insisted that her parents were home by now and it would only be a few minutes.

She used her key to get into the house, and went immediately to a wooden display with a glass cover. Her parents were obviously not home, but she pointed to the display and waved him over.

Inside the case were various items from AC/DC concerts, and when Margaret opened the case, she picked up a stone to show him. “Phil and his wife gave me this rare piece of yellow jade. They said it was kind of valuable.”

John looked at the stone. It was the size of a goose egg, and off-white in color with veins of tan all through it.

“Do you want to touch it?” asked Margaret with an intent look in her eyes.

“Um, not really,” said John uncomfortably. They both immediately began to laugh.

She then asked him to stay for a while and even overnight, but John was firm in answering no. He had no intention of ruining his marriage over this girl. Even if his wife never found out, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he gave in to temptation.

He drove away breathing a sigh of relief. He would have to not put himself into this kind of situation again.

The Never Ending Story

My family and I bought the extended DVD set of “The Return Of The King” that has now come out. It was a Christmas gift to ourselves.

I had watched the first release with my brother and brother-in-law over the Thanksgiving weekend. We used a projector to show the movie on my brother’s living room wall. Very cool!

The ladies of the family were taking advantage of the holiday shopping deals while we set the little kids up in the basement with a television and VCR to watch the box of Christmas videos I had brought along.

When the ladies returned, of course, the movie wasn’t finished yet.

My mother remarked my misty eyes at the end, and I found it difficult to explain what I saw in the movie that would bring tears to my eyes.

I’ve thought about it on and off since then and decided to write out some of it here for you.

First, I remember reading of Tolkien telling C. S. Lewis that all stories are reflections of the greatest story: our history with God, the highlight being Jesus providing our salvation. Then there’s the concept of “The Never Ending Story”. The story never really stops. As one character leaves or dies, the torch of the story is passed to those who carry on.

In the “Return Of The King” and the entire saga of “The Lord Of The Rings” you see good versus evil, but what strikes me is all the sacrifices the friends made for one another. That is a reflection of what Jesus has done for us. Gandalf even comes back from a hellish place more glorified, as did Christ.

The ring, the physical symbol of evil, has taken its toll from all who’ve come in contact with it. We see Bilbo Baggins coming to look his proper age very quickly after his role in the war of the ring is done. It can be easily accepted that Bilbo leaves with the elves from Middle Earth on a ship that I am compelled to think of as departing for heaven.

Gandalf’s words to Pippin during the battle at Mina Tirith leads me to think that way as well. He speaks of death. He says this world’s gray cover is peeled back and all becomes silver glass. He then speaks of seeing white shores and a green land beyond. That sounds like heaven to me, and a place to look forward to.

Now four hobbits at the end of the story are at the harbor to see off Bilbo, Gandalf, and the elves when it turns out that Frodo Baggins is departing also, much to the other hobbits’ surprise. The ring has worn Frodo down so much more in his own role to destroy it, and he desires to go to what he views as his rest beyond Middle Earth.

I am reminded of many loved ones I expected to pass on very much like Bilbo, who were old and weary. I can also think of one or two that have departed as unexpectedly as Frodo’s departure.

We all live a story, and we are left to carry on with what was given to us by those who’ve gone before. It will someday be my turn to leave, and I want to leave good and helpful gifts behind.

My heart weeps
For a child that hadn't a chance to be
Or be placed upon a grandparent's knee
For the parent who cannot place him there
For the grandparent who hadn't a chance to care

My heart is grateful
For a chance to say hello or goodbye
For a chance to laugh and a chance to cry
For a day of sun and a day of rain
For a wave of pleasure and a stab of pain

Bohemian Avenue (conclusion)

Gloomy white light filtered through the bedroom window onto the mattress. It was still occupied by the sleeper who had placed it on the floor for his bed.

John raised his head and saw that it was just daylight and no one stirred in the apartment. Stephen was asleep in his bed across the room.

It was Saturday morning, and he was glad he didn’t have to go to work today. Then he remembered the events of last night. All the thoughts that had been pushed aside for sleep now began to run through his brain. He was done with sleep; so he put on some clothes.

He opened the bedroom door and looked out into the living room. Jeanie was not sleeping on the couch anymore. She must have gone upstairs to Susan’s apartment.

John grabbed his coffee mug and made himself some instant coffee with the help of the microwave and sat on the couch where he had last seen Jeanie before going to bed. He looked at the TV. This was no time for television. The murky shadows of the unlit living room allowed his thoughts to become clearer in his mind.

He felt that he was partly to blame for Jeanie’s overindulgence last night. Maybe these kids looked to him more than he realized. He admired their way of stating their individuality and never thought about the possibility of underlying insecurities and even heartaches.

Why had he wanted to drink? Why with these kids? Couldn’t he have just had Coke as his brother had? It brought to mind the first time he had ever taken a drink.

John remembered from his high school days the misunderstandings between his parents and himself and the ache that he had carried from the rejection he perceived from them. When a relationship with a girl had not gone the way he had hoped, but in fact caused him to face more rejection, he had decided that drugs and alcohol couldn’t hurt him any worse and might be a temporary painkiller.

He knew in his head that numbing the pain didn’t solve anything, but he didn’t see any solution at all. If his preacher father and his mother made him feel unconditionally unworthy, couldn’t that have been true of God also? But that very church training and something else inside of him wrestled against that assumption.

He had left home to join the Army just to escape his parents. He had quit drugs because he didn’t like the side effects and the Army kept drug testing as a deterrent and a way to rid the ranks of drug abusers. Drinking was practically encouraged in some respects, and John had learned the hard lessons of drinking too much.

Now, he had tried to keep his drinking moderate and was successful, but here he was unintentionally leading others astray. It could have been worse, but he didn’t want to excuse himself that easily.

Why did he drink now? His parents had taught him not to drink at all.

The fact was he had turned to alcohol during a painful time in his life. The temporary numbing had actually scarred him to the point that when he felt God wasn’t acting quickly enough in his favor, he turned to drinking.

The drinking, he thought, wasn’t the whole picture. The drinking was a substitute for…?

The answer had to do with acceptance. It was feeling connected to other people in friendship, in intimacy, and of romantic love.

When he was married he hadn’t wanted to drink, and when he craved a drink, it was when he felt lonely and abandoned. He had managed to go for several years without having a drink by resisting with all his strength the urges and finding others to be with who did not drink.

Here in Minneapolis, he had given in and found that he had put so many things ahead of his dependence on God. He had put acceptance by others ahead of God. When he felt down, instead of turning to God, he drank.

The concept came back to him of how one views God as one views his own father. Somewhere deep down, he no longer trusted his dad, and that seemed to be applied to God, too.

In light of all he had seen in Minneapolis, the underlying issues of everyone’s life are not that many in number. The heartaches we all carry help to shape and form us to who we are and who we are going to be.

The girls from Loring Park may have equated the desire for love and intimacy solely with sexual intimacy. Those who are wounded by someone of the opposite sex, may even turn to a homosexual lifestyle to continue in their concept of intimacy.

There is some unknown heartache in the sisters upstairs that have lead them to this particular place in their lives. He had a suspicion he was about to find out Stephen’s heartache in time.

He didn’t know how to be healed of his own heartaches. All John knew was that God offered him more than he could find in drinking or finding his own way. It was time to quit drinking and come to that place that his dad had told him about when he was much younger.

He needed to go to God with everything. When he was much younger, his dad had told him he could cry and pour out all that he felt to God. He hadn’t tried that for a long time. In his mind, he looked up into the face of God, and immediately sobs wracked his body.

After a time, he heard stirrings in the bedrooms. He had recovered for the most part and had resolved to do two things. The first one was to quit drinking, and the second one was to find a life in this new place that was truer to his heart and God’s plan.

Bohemian Avenue #2

John walked up one flight of stairs in his brother’s apartment building. The floor was clear, but it wasn’t even dark outside yet.

He thought of the day he moved into the apartment with Stephen and his roommate.

---

The master bedroom was for them to share along with the bathroom in the corner. Instead of setting up a bed, John had just taken the extra mattress and thrown it on the floor and threw some blankets on it. “That’s good enough for me,” he’d said.

There hadn’t been much for John to unpack, so John was ready to do something fun in the city. As they were leaving the apartment, they saw a man lying on the floor not too far from their door.

Stephen being a security guard had put on his work persona. “Hey, get up! Get up!” He nudged him with his foot hard enough to begin to roll him over.

The man mumbled and began to get up.

“You get out right now!” commanded Stephen. He proceeded to haul him downstairs and out the front door in the typical “bum’s rush” style.

John hadn’t seen his brother in that light before. It had left an impression.

---

Now, he entered the apartment to find he was the only one there. He turned on the television in the master bedroom and changed his clothes.

It wasn’t long before George; Stephen’s roommate came home from school. Since it was Friday, John knew his brother would be home pretty soon.

Next to come into the apartment were Susan and her sister Jeanie. They took over the living room while George was changing in his room.

Susan, it seemed was George’s regular visitor. Though George called her his girlfriend, she seemed to try to dodge that moniker. She was practically an apartment fixture in John’s eyes.

Jeanie was brunette where Susan was blond, and a Grunger unlike Susan. She sported a fresh hairstyle that seemed to John a form of bowl haircut. Everything below the top of the ear was clipped or shaved to the skin leaving the rest to hang almost like a Beatle haircut. He had no idea what that was called, but it had to do with the Grunge look he guessed. He appreciated the gloss of her dark brunette hair that was long enough to see and how it outlined her pale delicate face with the scant and naturally shaped eyebrows over brown eyes.

Her lips were generous without being pouty or overlarge. They called John’s attention to her words whenever she spoke in a slightly ethereal voice.

Jeanie seemed more aware of her surroundings than Susan and easily dominated a room with conversation. It was hard to know anything at all about Susan as Jeanie effortlessly eclipsed her by merely being there.

John had heard from other friends that Jeanie and Stephen had been an item at one time. That seemed to pique his interest in her even more. He wanted to know what had attracted his brother to her.

When Stephen came home, Jeanie suggested they all go to Loring Park and pick up two old friends from their school days and go to the bowling alley on Lake Street.

Everyone seemed in agreement and decided to use George’s car and the sisters would come in Jeanie’s car to have room for everyone.

John was happy to watch and learn more of his brother’s world. He didn’t think anything of what George had said about Loring Park being an area famous for being part of the gay community. He was enjoying the company of all these younger people and their way of talking about their lives.

When they finally found the apartment of the two they were to pick up, John saw two somewhat large girls get into the backseat with Stephen. He turned around in his seat to greet the two new passengers and saw that one of the girls wore her face as if she had a sweet disposition and the other was more Grunge with many studs in her left ear, mostly in the stiff cartilage at the top. There were fewer in the right ear. She seemed the more masculine of the two. Now, George’s remarks about Loring Park began to sink in.

The girl with all the studs in her ears had a short haircut. John’s grandmother would have called it a “boyish bob”. John asked her if getting all the piercings had hurt.

She seemed pretty casual about answering his question and claimed that none had especially hurt except maybe the ones in the cartilage at the top of her ears.

When George’s carload arrived at the bowling alley, Stephen, John, and the two girls slid into a booth near the bar while George went to watch for Susan and Jeanie at the entrance.

John bought everyone at the table a drink. He and the girls had beer while Stephen ordered a Coke. He brought the drinks back to the table where he saw that Stephen had moved over to the wall, leaving him to sit across from the more feminine of the two girls.

He had already forgotten their names and was hesitant to ask again, so he proceeded to engage the girl in front of him in conversation. He was successful in drawing her out and was pleased at his ability to get her to smile and even laugh once.

Stephen leaned into John’s ear and said, “What are you doing? You’re married.”

John frowned and mumbled, “I’m not hitting on her.”

The thought occurred to him that the girl with the studded ears might resent his attention to her friend, so he kept glancing in her direction to see if she showed any signs of jealousy. There was no reaction to confirm his suspicions of the two girls’ relationship.

When someone offered to buy the next round of drinks, George, Susan and the girl with the studded ears went to the pool table and Jeanie slid into the booth next to the other girl from Loring Park.

Jeanie saw that John had finished his second beer and said she wanted to have a rum and Coke if he would have one too. He didn’t know what to think of that, but agreed.

A man with a guitar stepped onto the small stage and the other end of the barroom, and began to play songs from the 1980s. John was pleased to hear some music he had grown up with and really began to enjoy himself.

As the four in the booth talked, he discovered that all these friends of Stephen had gone to the same Bible College with him more than a year ago. John couldn’t help but feel they had strayed quite a way from where they used to be in life, and he wasn’t such a good influence. At least Stephen hadn’t had any alcohol.

Jeanie had another drink and wanted John to match her drink for drink when Susan came to the table to express her disapproval. When Jeanie downed her drink in one swallow, the sisters began to argue.

At that point, George came over and suggested that he and Susan take the girls from Loring Park back home and that Jeanie and the brothers go back to Stephen’s apartment in her car.

As John, Stephen, and Jeanie approached her car, Jeanie began to stagger. Stephen caught her and asked John to drive them back to the apartment. When they arrived, Stephen carried her upstairs and placed her on the couch in the living room.

John sat at the kitchen table and looked at Jeanie lying on the couch. She had faded into sleep from the alcohol. He knew she’d be fine except for a slight headache in the morning. She must have been tired to fade so fast from just three drinks, but everyone’s tolerance is different.

He pondered how all these friends had been in Bible school together. The two from Loring Park had obviously dropped out and pursued a gay lifestyle. Jeanie worked at a video store and lived about block from them in “Gangland” and wasn’t currently in school. Stephen had a school bill that was too high for him to continue full time, so he had dropped out for a while. George was in vocational school, but Susan didn’t seem to have a reason for not being in school. There had been a vague reference to her having a job somewhere, but no one had said what it was.

If he wasn’t careful, he could be judgmental and say he’d fallen in with the castoffs of the Bible school. How had all these kids fallen through the cracks? Was it just lack of funds or something more?

To be continued…….eventually

Bohemian Avenue

The underground parking ramp was a dim cement cavern that spiraled into the ground under a tower of glass. John had washed about ten cars today ranging from a modest Honda Accord to a Lexus with tan leather interior and power everything, from brakes to the seat that had several programmable positions designed for more than one driver.

He’d had to go up to the fortieth floor to deliver the keys and collect the fee on that last one. The ten-dollar tip was more than worth it to get out of the dungeon and to snatch a glance out over Minneapolis from the big window behind the receptionist.

The day was done as far as he was concerned. It was after four o’clock and John was sick of the cars and oblivious corporate suits that either ignored him or deigned to say hello from their lofty perch of success and productivity. He was tired of walking through the ramp and giving complimentary window washes to cars leaving a business card for the car wash that was a feature of the parking ramp. He had gotten so bored with the wait between washes that he had started to remember all the cars that had pretty and well-dressed women at the wheel and would exclusively reserve the complimentary window washes for them. After all, women were usually not as attentive to their vehicles as men were.

He grabbed his coat and headed for the ramp’s cashier booth. Since this was rather a modest and exclusive parking ramp, there was only one booth. The girl that was on duty now, was no longer the impish, aspiring dancer with her red hair from a bottle, but the quiet silky dark Ethiopian girl that was a University student.

John pushed in behind her chair and reaching over her shoulder, grabbed his time card and punched out for the day. She simply smiled as he said goodbye. He left with the scent of her pleasantly spicy perfume in his nostrils. He remembered from his days in the Army, an occasional black draped lady in Saudi Arabia would wear the same sort of perfume, but it probably wouldn’t be the same on his wife.

He thought he had seen a lot in his travels in England, Germany, the Middle East and Panama, but since coming to the Twin Cities, he realized he missed the changes of styles in his own country. The unnatural colored hair and many piercings weren’t all that much of a surprise to him, after all the punkers were all over Europe. It seemed that Americans traded some of their chains and spiked collars for the ugliest colors in clothes. His brother, who was temporarily his roommate until he could establish himself in “The Cities”, told him it was called Grunge. Retro and Grunge were in, and preppies, and stoners were extinct. The nerds were making the money while everyone rode on the shirttails of their success.

All of that was living side by side and mixed in with the Hippies who were now teaching at the University or running their coffee houses and New Age shops. The Bohemians began where the skyscrapers ended and interspersed with residential areas all the way to Saint Paul, which had to be the ugly twin of the “Cities”.

Then there were people like the Ethiopian girl who came to the University or just to settle in the United States. Now there were more kinds of Asians, Middle Easterners and so on. That didn’t bother John at all. That was rather interesting. He never thought he’d come close to culture shock in his own country though.

The wind picked up enough to mist his face with the drizzle that was coming down as he stepped out onto the street. He could have taken the skyway a little farther and gotten closer to home before hitting the street, but he wanted some weather instead of the continuous parade of business after business all through the skyways. He’d wait until January to use the warm passages a story above ground.

The Bohemian parts of the Twin Cities appealed to him. He enjoyed the specialty shops. He had a better chance of finding any book, comic book, coffee, tea, incense or anything else one looked for in these shops than anyplace he had been in his past. His brother had immediately gotten him hooked on the Science Fiction bookstore in “Gangland”. That was his own tag for the neighborhood. He had a right to call it that. He and his brother lived there in an apartment with another vocational student aspiring to break into radio broadcasting.

As soon as he found a decent paying job, John would bring his wife and kids from the In-Laws’ to live here.

The drizzle let up and the air wasn’t so cold that walking the whole way back to “Gangland” would be rather pleasant. The groups standing on the corner didn’t bother him. He was used to that. He had embarked on his Army career from Detroit and had seen such urban scenes before.

He’d never been approached by staggering Native Americans before. They would hold out their hands and ask, “Have you got a penny?” He supposed they kept it up until they had gotten a penny from three hundred people to get something from the liquor store. He was sure someone just gave them money to be rid of him or her. What he found disgusting, was the thought of them drinking Listerine to get their buzz. His brother had told him that, too.

John must have missed quite a bit in the last nine years to be so naïve in the city now. He was curious to learn more about people here.

To be continued…….

On December Five and Twenty....

When I was in the fourth grade, I was still living in Suburbia. At Christmas time, the choir had a big concert with all the older grades combined to sing wonderful Christmas songs from other countries as well as America.

This particular music teacher that year was new. I think she was trying to impress everyone with the quality and quantity of the Christmas program, because many of us were taken out of our regular classrooms to assemble in the gym that doubled as our lunchroom to practice for the program.

We began to work on a last minute song from Spain, I think. It was called “Fum Fum Fum.” It was a catchy tune and we caught on to it easily enough, but the teacher wanted us to enunciate the “Fum Fum Fum” properly.

She began to slowly enunciate for us. She emphasized the “m” sound. I guess we sounded like we were contemptuous of “December five and twenty.” Foo Foo Foo!

While she was enunciating for us, you could almost see literal question marks hanging over our heads. We kids looked at each other. Boy, we’ve been pronouncing it wrong.

So our music teacher said, “Let’s try it from the beginning.”

And we sang, “On December five and twenty, Foomah Foomah Foomah!”

The teacher threw down her baton and took a break.

From The Artist To The Muse

I know you never asked to be what you are to me
I will bear it when you stretch, tug and try to rip out all the ties between us
I stand fast because I cannot take my heart back if I wanted to
Run far and wide, but please run free
I will treasure what you couldn’t help giving to me
There’s no changing this

We write our lives on a foggy window
Where the sun soon burns it away
Have we written our choicest messages
In the short time we’re given?

Christmas Card #2

Last night’s snowfall collected on the path. The snow merely frosted where the leaves were scattered, but the path was a luminescent ribbon in the predawn light.

The woods was misted with a fog that hung in the air; though I had no problem seeing ahead as far as the trees would allow.

The effect of snow and fog brought to mind an account of the faery folk written by an ancient king named Simon in his youth. I imagined that this place contained some of their magic from long ago, and I was transported to that time and place.

Darkness retreated from the path and every hill and hollow promised a possible site for a faery cottage or garden if it weren’t for the snow, leaves, and fallen trees.

My faithful dog who led the way, turned back to check on my progress from time to time, but I didn’t try to keep her pace. After receiving my pleasant assurances, she loped ahead again toward home.

The enticing aroma of wood burning in the fireplace of the cottage floated on the breeze. One of the children must have put more wood on the fire in my absence.

As I approached, I saw a candle burning in the window, thought it wouldn’t be necessary as soon as the rising sun peeked over the treetops. The glow was all the more inviting because my son and his family had set it there to welcome me back from my morning walk.

I hung my somewhat pine-scented woolen cloak and hat on the peg and saw that my son had filled the wood box. The kettle on the fire was beginning to hiss, and I knew that my lovely, petite daughter-in-law had put the water on for tea. My slippers were waiting by my favorite chair. I sniffed at the idea of being treated like a doddering old man. The children knew better than to call me old, but actions can speak louder than words.

My son and his wife appeared together, and I embraced them both at once. “I am so glad you came to stay with me for Christmas.”

“Papa,” scolded my daughter-in-law. “I thought we were to accompany you on your walk.”

“We’ll have a lovely Christmas Eve walk on the way home from church this evening,” I replied. “You and Thomas go now, and I’ll stay here with the baby.”

“Oh, but your tea,” she objected.

“Emily, I have poured my own tea in the field and at my hearth long before you came along. I can manage,” I declared, waving her toward the door.

When the couple had closed the door behind them, I went to my room across from the guestroom and lifted the chest lid at the foot of my bed. There were the three packages wrapped in paper just as I had left them. I stacked them on my bed to be handy after the tree trimming tonight.

Before the fire, I poured my tea, switched my boots for the slippers, and sat in my favorite chair to gaze into the embers.

Black fur scampered into view pursued by my tousled-hair; newly awakened granddaughter who appeared convinced that a tail was the proper grip to take to walk the dog. Her large blue eyes were alight with the smile on her face.

I stretched out my arms and said, “Come see your Grandfather!”

She climbed up into my lap and snuggled for a moment into my chest. Her little fingers ruffled my mustache and explored my nose a little too thoroughly. She giggled as she pulled my lip down to see my teeth.

After she had wiggled off my lap to search for the dog again, I gazed into the fire and remembered another Christmas Eve.

I had been a young officer in Her Majesty’s army, and after being recognized for remaining on some God-forsaken hill in the heat of an obscure battle, I had found myself among Queen Dora’s favorites at the court. I remembered Sir Antonio, who was thought to be the Queen’s first choice for a consort; Sir James, a scholar and historian; and Ladies Pearl and Ruby, affectionately named so by Her Majesty.

The Queen was young and not yet wearied from matters of state. Her moments of high spirits were never undignified, but were often frowned upon by the elder statesmen and her advisors. She had come of age to rule in her own right, and little could be said as all her younger subjects adored her.

Sir Antonio was allowed an unheard of liberty by Her Majesty. He would utter barely audible suggestions that Her Majesty should slip away alone with him. He never seemed to mind when those of us among her favorites overheard, but never allowed the Queen’s advisors or guardians to suspect his words.

Poor Sir James was in love with Her Majesty for the longest time. No one would have ever known, if it hadn’t been for me urging him to match me goblet for goblet from a cask of wine that was given to me as a present from one of the best sergeants to ever serve under me.

It had been the New Year’s Eve party the year before. Sir James tried to kiss the Queen when he was flush with all he had drunk. His opportune moment was witnessed by only Lady Pearl and was sworn and threatened to secrecy by Her Majesty. That was why Sir James chose not to unmask that New Year’s Eve.

The only reason I knew about it, was Lady Pearl had confided it to me to lure me into a partitioned room where I had the devil of a time extracting myself with honor intact.

On this particular Christmas Eve, Ladies Pearl and Ruby had insisted I ask Her Majesty to dance. After realizing the Queen had put them up to it, I overcame my shyness and asked her to dance.

We took up positions to dance one of the beautiful dances recently taught the court by a highly reputable theater company. As we circled with hands barely touching in the air, I was totally enchanted by her and couldn’t help wishing I were qualified to be considered a possible consort. But a slip of a girl named Abigail was soon to capture my heart and become my wife.

* * *

This evening we had a lovely walk home from the church in the falling snow. Emily put the baby to bed, while Thomas and I cut down the Christmas tree I had picked out this morning. I surprised the children with decorations made by Abigail the Christmas before she passed away. They were so touched; I thought I saw a tear in Thomas’ eye.

The tree was lit with the all the remaining pieces of candle carefully waxed onto each branch. I sat in my chair and gazed into the blazing glory of the decorated pine. The scene seemed to shift somewhat and I beheld the night sky ablaze with more stars than I remember seeing before.

Music became audible. There appeared a heavenly choir and among them my Abigail as young and alive as the day I fell in love with her. She seemed to hold her hand out to me, beckoning.

The sky became as bright as day as I seemed to rise to meet a white-robed figure shining brighter than the sun. My arms were raised as I beheld my Lord and my God!

* * *

She gently placed his hand back on the arm of the chair and turned to her husband. “Oh, Thomas! He’s gone!”

In my mind
At an unexpected hour
A vision of the maid
With eyes of field and flower

Christmas Card

Brickman Hall seemed quiet with the snow coming down. The sky was dropping a clean coating of white on the sidewalk and bushes as Jerry entered the main door of the dormitory. The paper snowman on the glass rattled slightly as the door completely closed.

The crispness of the December evening became the dusty warmth of the hallway on his face as he unzipped his jacket coming into the lobby. Where the carpet began, the room was furnished as a cozy living room complete with Christmas tree and electric fireplace. Sitting on one of the couches was a couple. A dark and mildly handsome boy was speaking with a studious looking girl with glasses and a red knitted sweater with snowflakes all over it.

One of the resident advisor’s was sitting behind a counter with a textbook taking advantage of the brighter light there. She was completely engrossed.

Jerry turned left down the hall where his friends lived on the first floor. First came George’s room. If he were home, Jerry would be distracted from his boredom. George was good for a long, rambling, good-natured conversation that left him uplifted, but his knock brought no answer at all.

The young man turned from the door to face down the off-white hallway. At this time of evening, Susan was usually in one of the piano practice rooms across the campus, so he passed her door without a pause.

Three more doors down, Jerry knocked again. His friend John answered the door.

“Is David around?” asked Jerry.

“I’m not sure where he is,” replied John yawning. “I’ve been asleep.”

“I’ll find him,” said Jerry. “Thanks.”

Jerry strode to the nearest stairwell and went into the basement where there were more couches, more Christmas decorations and another Christmas tree. It hadn’t taken very long for the decorations to go up after Thanksgiving break.

On the nearest couch was a luxurious blonde nestled into the cushions in a soft-looking sweat suit. She cradled a textbook, but had looked up at his entrance. “Hi,” she said softly, almost shyly.

In a flash, Jerry took in the sight of her. Her form was not flaunted before him, but he could see her elegant proportions. Her clear, unmade up complexion looked as smooth as butter. She was as perfect as any golden girl in his dreams. There was no touch of adolescence about her, but was a vision of youthful womanhood. His arms ached to hold her.

As if half expected, butterflies came alive in his stomach. He couldn’t think of a better moment to ask her to come to the play that was being put on by the fine arts department that weekend. He had used his birthday money sent from home, and bought two tickets hoping against hope to ask her to see it with him.

She cheerfully agreed to go. Then she surprised him. She opened a notebook and handed him an envelope with his name on it. “I’ve wanted to give this to you after the other night.” She then gathered her books and stood up to leave. “I’ll see you Friday, Jerry.”

“Yes,” he said meeting her blue eyes. “Goodbye, Carrie. I’ll see you then.”

He thought of her parting smile, and how it reached up into her eyes to brighten an already shining face. Those eyes revealed a touch of girlish mischievousness that only made her seem lovelier. She was the golden girl who had walked out of his dreams and into his life, and he was becoming a part of her world, too.

He absently walked up the stairs after she had gone and sat in the lobby of the first floor. The couple that had been sitting on the couch by the Christmas tree was gone, so Jerry took that seat closest to the tree.

This was a real tree. The sultry aroma of the pine needles wafted around him reminding him of a Christmas with his Grandmother where he had pilfered pieces of the ribbon candy from the dish on the living room coffee table. He could almost smell the candy; it was such an acute memory. Christmas always seemed to have a wonderful happy smell.

Seeing the envelope still unopened in his hands, Jerry broke the seal. Inside was a handmade card made from typing paper that any student would have. There was a beautifully drawn guitar on the front and inside was a quotation from a popular song. It was a thank you card.

A night or so ago, Jerry had played his guitar for Carrie. He had wanted her to hear the songs he had written. As his friends had joined them, the intimate gathering had become almost a private concert. It had been such a merry evening. Now he was glad that Carrie had obviously enjoyed it very much.

* * *

He held her hand during the play. Even her hand was perfect. Her skin was just as smooth as he had thought; her fingers supple and the pads like silk. Each nail on each finger was perfectly shaped though unpolished. His thumb gently and slowly caressed back and forth as his fingers were entwined with hers.

After the play, he walked along the sidewalk with her; their gloved and mittened hands clasped once again. The Christmas lights and the sight of a decorated tree in each of the windows of the lit up houses across the street provided a romantic glow. They drank hot chocolate together at the student union before he walked her back to Brickman Hall.

She smiled and thanked him for a wonderful evening and went inside.

Jerry walked across the campus to his own bed with such a warmth inside that he would have been surprised to feel his wind-chilled cheeks.

It was the next afternoon that found him walking hand in hand with Carrie once again. She had never been overly chatty, but today she was quiet. When they were several blocks from the campus, she turned to him. Her eyes told him to listen closely.

She gently told him she didn’t want them to be known as a couple. She didn’t want to be his girlfriend.

All of his hopes and dreams of her collapsed inside him, leaving nothing but a heavy ache. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to convince her otherwise, so he said, “I guess I will let you go.”

Jerry didn’t know how he ended up back on campus. All he could think of was the line from the movie where Humphrey Bogart talked about having a comical look on his face because his guts had been kicked out.