MARK HAYTER
During the Christmas Holidays of 1985, I planned to stay on campus. There was no place I cared to visit and no person I cared to see. I had loaned my roomate, Johnny, my 79 Pontiac so he could visit family in Dallas. He begged me to go with him, but I would have none of it. Home alone was the place for me.
I had eight meal tickets left so I would only be about a week without food. Johnny had left behind his jar of change, so I could always fall back on it. All was well… until the phone in my dorm rang. I imagined it was Johnny telling me that he had wrecked my car. It wasn’t. It was Becky Stanley, who had been my Chemistry lab partner. Quite a shock, it was.
When I asked her how she got my number, she said, “Well, Jasper, you happen to be in the directory. You’re in room 14 of Unit 3.” When I asked her why she had gone to all the trouble, she told me she needed a favor. She wanted me to come to her parent’s house on Christmas Eve for a big party. Everybody was going to be there, but they were mostly people she didn’t care to see. I told her ‘tough luck’, but she came back with “You owe me.” She got that right. I would not have passed Chemistry without the help of Becky Stanley. I told her that I had no wheels, so she said she’d pick me up. And that she did.
The house was decorated to the hilt. The backyard was inviting. There was a swing set, lawn chairs, a hammock, and a small patio. And, the guests were… okay. Some of Becky’s cousins and friends were every bit as good-looking as she was. There were sandwiches and snacks of all kinds and lots of beverages. One thing missing was a conversation that I cared to listen to. When Becky snuck off to the restroom, I exited through the back door and sat in one of the lawn chairs.
I wanted to get in the hammock but the kids were jumping all over the thing. I wasn’t there for 10 minutes when the backdoor opened and practically everyone in the house poured into the backyard. Becky looked over at me and waved her finger as if giving me a scolding.
Her mom told everyone to grab a lawn chair or one of the blankets so they could sit on the ground. She then announced that it was storytime. “Who has a story?” she asked. “Come on! Somebody has to start this off.” I suddenly heard my name come out of Becky’s mouth. What on earth? I told Becky’s mom that I didn’t tell stories. Becky corrected me. She said that somebody told her that I told great stories in Speech Class. I said I never took speech. She said, “Well somebody told me. Regardless, you owe me.”
I did remember a fairly good Christmas story, that my grandpa once told, but I did so hate Becky pulling the “I owe her” card. I said, “Okay, but after this, Becky dear, my debt is paid.” I then told all the kiddos to move in closer to me. “Adults?” I said. “You can go anywhere you want. This is meant for the young and the young at heart.” While they were getting settled, I asked Becky to get me some wassail. It couldn’t be as bad as I remembered.
“Okay, everyone listen up. Who knows the story of Santa and Rudolf?” Some of the kids started booing. I joined in. “Booo! Yes, it’s a crummy story, and it’s so untrue.” I told them. “Rudolf wasn’t a reindeer, his nose wasn’t red, and he had antlers. All male caribous have antlers, and that’s what Rudolf is. He’s a male caribou. In Canada you can call ‘em reindeer. Just not in Finland where Santa was born.
“Oh, and Santa Claus?” I continued. “His mom, Mrs. Kringle, named him Christopher. Now, Chris was born with all kinds of talent. He had excellent penmanship, he was a great painter, and even as a child, he was the best craftsman in Lapland. Uh, that’s an area in Finland. And, Chris was kinder and more caring than is normal. He could carve a ball out of a knotted tree limb; make a basket out of bark; build a model ship from a Walrus tusk. And as he finished each project he would walk the streets of the town to find someone that he imagined would appreciate the gift more than others” He made shovels, axes, leather gloves. And toys! Dolls, wagons, yoyos, small wooden French soldiers. -- France was the big kid on the block back then.
“Well, Chris got sick one summer and had to stay home for a good while. Fortunately, he felt well enough to make things for others. He just couldn’t deliver them. So, he started making gifts and storing them for when he had time to deliver ‘em. Turns out, an old man who Chris had once given a shovel and an axe, returned Chris’ kindness by giving him his pet caribou. Chris named his four-legged friend, Rudolf. The two of them just seemed to belong together.
“Well, one day Chris cleaned off his Daddy’s old sled and hitched Rudolf to it, and the caribou took off running. Being a humble young man, Chris didn’t want to make a big deal about his good deeds, so he delivered his gifts late at night. No one locked their doors back then, so Chris put the gifts inside the door of each house. He was so pleased with how well things went, that he decided to make one big delivery on the same night every year.
“Well, one winter, the weather got bad. Real bad. The roads were neck-deep in snow. Some people couldn’t even get out of their homes. Chris couldn’t find a way to travel through town. He knew that people were depending on him, but he was unable to deliver. While big guys don’t normally cry, Chris Kringle began to do just that. He cried and then he prayed. Eventually, he piled some straw for Rudolf to sleep on, while he worked on some whatnot before falling asleep.
“He was awakened by a warm hand from an old man touching his brow. The man told Chris to wake up. That he and Rudolf had a job to do. Chris suddenly felt relaxed and calm and focused. The old man pointed behind Chris to his sled with a huge leather bag tied to the back. And Rudolf? Rudolf was reined and ready to go. Chris was too excited to say anything, so he rushed over to the door and tugged until it opened. What he saw was a solid wall of snow. He immediately turned to address the old man, but the man was gone. In his place was a small girl. Chris asked her who she was. She said, ‘I’m what some people call an ‘angel’ and my name is Amy.
Amy explained to Chris and Rudolf how she was going to help them deliver their gifts. Her plan sounded ridiculous. “Of course, it is,” she said. “It’s impossible. But it will happen if you have faith that it will?”
“Chris bowed his head and whispered a prayer. Then he turned and said, ‘I have faith that whatever is supposed to happen will happen.
“Amy gently climbed onto Rudolf’s back and hugged his neck. Then she whispered a sound like a song, but with no words. Rudolf snorted and then walked forward. Immediately, the snow parted, causing him to run forward. Just then, Amy spoke a tune that made her hands beam like searchlights. That’s when Rudolf and the sled went skyward.”
Then I paused to sip some of the lousy wassail Becky had delivered. The kids started begging to hear more. Even some of the adults were asking me to continue. So, I told them that Amy the Angel was able to recruit more help and acquire more supplies so that gifts could be made for more people all over Finland. Eventually all over Europe. Then I explained that that was how Chris got his new name. I said, “You, see, in Germany, he was known as Mr. Clous. In Spain, they referred to him as Mr. Santos. In Britain, they called him ‘Santa’ instead of Santos, and ‘Claus’ instead of Clous. Thus, Santa Claus.”
About the North Pole? I told them that Amy took Rudolf and Chris to the North Pole where she showed them their new home, factory, and supply area. It was a gigantic palace-like structure that can only be seen from the inside. I mentioned that airplanes fly over the palace practically every day, yet, no one can see it.
I also explained how Santa is capable of delivering billions of gifts in one night. Turns out that an old man in a white robe shows up every December 24th, stands atop the invisible palace, and raises his hands to the heavens. At that moment, time slows to a crawl… for everyone except for Santa and his pals. They go so fast that you can’t even see ‘em. Amy is the one who brings in all the gifts. She goes through the front door. Doors just automatically open at her appearance. That girl is so fast, even if you were awake on the couch watching TV, you wouldn’t be able to see her.
There were more questions from the audience but I told you the gist of it all. I received applause from both children and grownups. I must say I was the hit of the party. Becky drove me back to my dorm. Before I got out, she told me that I paid my debt. She would not use it again for the purpose of getting me do something for her.
Then she informed me that she would call again, and maybe bring over some sandwiches or something. “And, by the way,” she said. “On New Year's Eve, I need you to be my date for a party at my church.” I told her that it sounded a bit too wild for me, but if there was food involved, I might be able to make it.
Do you know how much I hate doing this?” she said. I had not a clue as to what she was referring. She explained that she hated to have to ask me out. I told her that she needed to stop doing it then. She said, “Stop asking you out?” I said, “No, stop worrying about it. Just go ahead and ask.” Then I said, “By the way, did you consider this a date?” She said she did.
I said, “Well, I guess that means I’m supposed to kiss you before you leave.” She said it wasn’t necessary. But, I told her that as a gentleman I considered it only proper. Then she walked me to the door of my dorm, where we stopped and kissed. It was nice, but not nearly as nice as the one on New Year’s Eve.
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