Somewhere Christmas music played to the warm and the safe.
Everything wasn’t merry and bright.
It was so windy that the pine tree air freshener in my car lost all its needles.
I listened to the weather on the radio. I wanted the night to lighten up. I was somewhere between the Rockies and a hard place to get to. I was on my way home for Christmas, driving in the back beyond while I wore the shoelaces I’d gotten as a gift on a previous Christmas. The weather was OK when I began my journey and then it turned ornery, and my world became blurred by blowing snow.
I wanted to be away from the spiteful winds and in my warm and cozy home. It was a Christmas parade – a line of slow-moving vehicles following a snowplow down a rural highway. I was the caboose. I had their backs.
I longed to get home, but want and get are two different roads.
No two snowflakes are identical, but I couldn’t tell the difference as they drifted across the road.
The snowplow’s flashing lights lured the parade away like a modern-day Pied Piper of Hamelin drawing us closer to home.
The driver of that vehicle could have been wearing a Santa suit. I’m not saying he was, but I won’t say he wasn’t. He was definitely bringing gifts to many. Snowplow drivers work all hours in not-the-nicest-weather conditions to deliver white-knuckled motorists to safety.
The snowplow operator might have had a red nose like the most famous reindeer of all, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, a fictional animal created by Robert Lewis May. Rudolph was the ninth and the youngest of Santa Claus’s reindeer, and used his bright red nose to illuminate the reindeer team’s path through the harsh winter weather on Christmas Eve.
I thought of Christmases past.
When I found out Santa wasn’t real, I got so mad at my parents, I stormed out of the house, got in my car, and drove and drove and drove.
Dad left the wind chimes up so we could hear the sounds of sleigh bells at Christmas. Or maybe he’d forgotten to retire them for the season?
Later on down the road of my life, I’d suggested putting wind chimes on our Christmas tree. My wife vetoed the idea and dressed the tree with ornaments that had been in the family since the dime store had its going-out-of-business sale.
I send out Christmas cards. I don’t use cards that have glitter. They are well-meaning, but I’m not fond of glitter cards. The glitter escapes and surprises me with its appearance until the end of June. Christmas is so good, it doesn’t need glitter.
After receiving a Christmas card from me, a business, Scrooge & Marley, sent me a large bill that had been gift-wrapped, with an added charge for the wrapping service included in the bill.
I went from avoiding mistletoe as a boy, to a man seeking the mug holly, lip lilac, smooch spinach and kiss kale.
Some people like fruitcake. I do. The secret is to get the kind without the sawdust.
Individually wrapped peanuts make swell gifts. A shell is the perfect wrapper.
Lending an ear or two to another is a priceless gift. Lean in and listen hard to those who don’t have many willing to hang on their words.
Be like Methuselah and tell everyone about your children, grandchildren, and your great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandchildren. Give the listener equal time to reciprocate.
I made it home in time for a Christmas that was merry and bright, thanks to the excellent work of a snowplow driver.
Mr. Rogers said, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”
Each year, I do Christmas Bird Counts and ring the Salvation Army bells. Volunteering keeps me from becoming a shiftless slug. If you take an inch, give a mile.
I offer well-worn wishes for a merry Christmas, happy holidays and a merry and happy everything to everybody.
Give the gift of a kind word to a helper.
Photo by Al Batt
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