Saturday, December 24, 2022

Short Story about the Family at Christmas



Hayter for Dec 18, 2022 

2022 Christmas Short Story 

"New Person in charge at Family Christmas”

All characters and events in this story were created by Mark’s imagination. While some of the characters may remind you of someone, it’s merely happenstance.

          The Richardson Family’s Christmas of ’88 had a lot going against it. For one thing, it was to be the third year without Grandma. Grandpa passed six years prior and that was a major jolt to everyone. When Grandma died, it was near impossible to salvage any semblance of a family tradition.

          The eldest son, Franklin thought it useless to try to continue a Christmas gathering of the family. Aunt Wanda wouldn’t have it. She, suggested that Franklin, being the eldest, should take charge of family gatherings.

“Just tell us what to bring, when to come, and how long to stay.” That was Aunt Wanda’s proposal, one that would soon be followed by several stipulations. Franklin didn’t care who was in charge, just as long as it wasn’t Wanda or him. He loved Wanda as much as any brother could love a crazy sister. Roland and Sheryl seldom offered any suggestions concerning family matters, so they didn’t care who was in charge.

          James accepted the job, but only because he didn’t want Wanda involved.  Wanda was so pleased that James would be in charge. She was tired of having to do everything, and let everyone know it ”I don’t wanna be in charge of Christmas. Franklin, you’re the patriarch. All you have to keep in mind are these 32 points I’ve listed on my yellow tablet.”

          The previous two Christmas gatherings were awkward as all get out. Grandmother Nancy had established a routine that worked perfectly. The family was to show up at 11 and lunch would be served at noon. After the meal, the adults would sit around in the living room while the kiddos went outside playing with stuff. Perfect.

Franklin and his wife Rebecca had the best yard for outdoor play. And their dining room was connected to the kitchen so it made the perfect setting and seating for a meal. It wasn’t Grandma and Grandpa’s house, but it was adequate.

          The only other obstacle in the path of Christmas ’88 was that it fell on a Sunday. Every church-going child in America would vote to never have Christmas on a Sunday. The way Christmas works is that you get up, open gifts, and go outside to play. Church didn’t fit anywhere in that scenario.

          Franklin and Rebecca’s 10-year-old son, James put up a decent argument for skipping church on Christmas Day. “Daddy, you told me that we don’t know when Jesus was born, so why didn’t the President make Christmas on the fourth Thursday of December? That way it would never fall on a Sunday. Jesus didn’t even want Christmas to fall on a Sunday.”

          His father nodded and said, “James, you make a good point, son. But, we must do what we must do.”

          James asked, “Who is making us do this, Daddy?”

          “Well, son, your grandma would turn over in her grave if we skipped church so you could play with toys. Of course, I imagine she is now beyond being upset over small earthly matters. In fact, when your grandpa was alive, he managed to see past all small matters. He once told me to be careful to never let tradition steal your mind away from God.”

          James said, “I don’t know what that means. Why would Grandpa say that?”

          “I didn’t know at the time. But now I do, and I get to share it with my son. Years from now, you’ll catch on and share it with your son.”

          “Sure, Daddy. Uh, does that mean we’re going to church after we open our presents tomorrow?”

          Franklin smiled and said, “Yes it does. And, you will live through this Christmas-on-Sunday experience just like the rest of us. You see, Christmas will fall on a Monday next year… unless this is a leap year. Don’t ask me why, but leap year messes up everything.

          James could make little sense out of what his Dad said, but he did feel better about having to go to church in the morning. It has to do with accepting something that you can’t change.

          It was about an hour and a half after church when the Richardson Family was gathered around the two tables in Franklin and Rebecca’s kitchen/dining room area. The children were antsy to have their plates filled, but none of the adults had told them to start. Wanda finally stole everyone’s attention by telling Franklin that he needed to say the blessing.

          “Right. Time to pray. James, it’s your turn this year to say the Christmas blessing.”

          At the moment James was sitting at the kids’ table busy trying to wrestle the Etch-A-Sketch out of his sister Tammy’s grasp. He immediately said,  “Crap!”

A nano-second after James said the “C” word, Aunt Wanda yelled the “S” word.

The house got deathly quiet. The next voice belonged to James. He said, “That’s okay, Aunt Wanda. Daddy said Sh+& to me once, too. So, Daddy, if it’s okay, I’m going to say the blessing, so everyone bow your head.

“God thank you for this food and for Jesus’ birthday, even though it wasn’t on Christmas Day. Thank you for the presents we got, even though, Santa Clause didn’t—Never mind. It feels bad that Grandmother and Grandpa still aren’t here. Mother said they’re in a better place than where we are. Please let that be right because they don’t need—Never mind. Thank you for everybody here right now, and I’m sorry for saying the “C” word and making Aunt Wanda say the “S” word. I haven’t been thinking right since before Christmas. But I’m gooder now, so thank you. In Jesus name, Amen.”

The ”Amen” didn’t leave James’ mouth before Rebecca, his Mom, started laughing. Immediately the room turned into the Laugh Boat. As difficult as it might be to believe, Aunt Wanda even started laughing.

It turned out to be the best dining experience the family ever had without Grandma. That evening, Franklin and James were having target practice with James’ new Red Rider BB gun. At one point, James said, “Daddy, uh, I’m sorry that I said that you said the “S” word.  I just said it to make Aunt Wanda not feel bad.

“I know that, James. It was a kind thing to do.”

“Daddy, why did everybody laugh at my prayer?”

Franklin grabbed his son and gave him a hug. “James, your prayer was beautiful. I’m sure Jesus loved it. The laughter fest had nothing to do with your prayer. They were tickled about Aunt Wanda saying the ‘S’ word. You know, I love my sister a bunch, but if you haven’t noticed she acts as if she is above us all. So, before slamming you about saying crap, she let out with the “S” word. The “S” word is so much worse than crap. I’m sorry. I meant to call it the C word. I’m a bad example. But, you’ve never heard me say the “S” word, at least not that I’m aware.”

“Oh, so Aunt Wanda showed that she’s not as good as she’s s’posed to be.”

“Well, son, none of us are. But you get the point.”

          “I guess. So, Daddy, did you like the socks we got you?”

          “Of course, I did. Didn’t I tell you?”

          “Yes, sir, but the socks were dumb. Mom let Tammy pick ‘em out.”

          “Well, yes, that was dumb. Oh, don’t let your Mother know I said that.”

          “I think she knows. She laughed when Tammy handed ‘em to her.”

          “Ha! Your mother is a doll!”

Yep, the Christmas of ’88 did much to build up the Family Richardson. They were a bit closer. Aunt Wanda wasn’t nearly as regimented and bossy after that. The woman even developed the semblance of a sense of humor.

The family gatherings depleted somewhat over the years. The children eventually became parents themselves. Franklin and Rebecca became grandpa and grandma as did Franklin’s other siblings.

Oh, everyone occasionally gets together. When they do, it requires some families to travel across state lines to meet.

It sure happens. And, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just different. Everyone will still have memories of better times, and few of them will recall events in the same way. In fact, there’s no telling how many people were there on the Christmas of ’88 who will remember the exact word that Aunt Wanda said that day. People tend to remember things differently. It’s a part of growing up.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

 

 

Hayter’s article for Dec 11, 2022

“History of Hayter Christmas gift Getting”

          When I was a kid, I never imagined a time when I would cease to be excited about Christmas. Next to the last day of school, it was the most anticipated day of the year.

          Of course, I’m talking about Santa Claus Christmas, not Jesus Christmas. The Hayters were conservative Christians. Nowhere in the Bible did it mention the date of Jesus’ birth, so why celebrate it in the dead of winter?   

          The idea was forget the strangely created birthday celebration. The church my family went to thought we should collectively celebrate Jesus twice on Sunday and once on Wednesday, every week of the year. As an individual you can celebrate any other time you want. I mention that only to keep people from castigating me for pooh poohing Christmas. If you’ve never been castigated, you’re one lucky duck.

So, today I’m talking about a Santa Christmas. I never remember believing in Santa. I likely swallowed the notion that he lived at the North Pole, but I knew that after Thanksgiving he stayed at Macy’s in New York for a day. After that, he visited a bunch of other stores in my hometown

I’ve written articles about Christmas for 42 years now. In fact, I was tempted to use one of my old articles today. No one would know, and fewer would care.

Over the years, I’ve mentioned it at least 32 times about how hard it was for Dad and Mom to make Christmas happen for seven kids. Don’t get me wrong. We each got Faris and Elsie something for Christmas. The money used for their presents came from our allowances. Actually, Dad’s salary paid for all gifts, because he gave us our allowance.

I’ve mentioned it several times that Dad used “lay away” to buy our gifts. That’s when you pick out a bunch of stuff back in October, and leave it at the store until you pay it all off. That way, your kids can search the house top to bottom and not find any gifts. If the last payment came the day before Christmas, then we were supposed to think that Santa delivered it all while we were asleep. Yes, I was a dumb kid, but I didn’t fall for that nonsense. Dennis, my big brother taught me that.

The main reason that Dad did the layaway thing was because he had trouble not spending Christmas money during the few months before Christmas. It would have been used for emergencies that cropped up. You know, stuff like going to the drive-in picture show.

          Among the biggest problems with lay away is that it doesn’t allow much time for you to assemble some of the stuff you bought the kids. On Christmas Eve 1957, Daddy and my big brother Larry stayed up all night working in the garage to assemble Dennis and my JC Higgens bicycles. The best Christmas gift ever. Unfortunately, the relationship between Larry and Dad cratered somewhat after that night. The lesson being, bicycle assembly is not a good father, son project.

          Some of what we got either broke or was put away before New Years Eve. It doesn’t take a lot of time for a kid to lose interest in certain toys. How long can a slinky hold your attention?

Some of the other stuff we got for Christmas was marbles, skates, a view master, and a stick horse. Dennis got the brown-headed horse and I got the red one. I kid you not, there was a time when I ran around the yard with a red-headed stick dragging the ground between my legs. After about a week, Dennis sold me his brown-headed for some of my marbles. He was three years older and caught on to the stick-horse lunacy a little quicker than I did.

          I once got a chemistry set for Christmas. I’m sure there were instructions somewhere in the box. If so, I either didn’t understand them or never bothered to look at ‘em. Had I experimented enough with my set, I would’ve likely killed myself during one of my experiments. All I managed to do was mix jars of bad smelling powders together making them stink even worse. Not that much of a thrill.

          Nowadays, the children of suburbia get better stuff. Forget Monopoly, they’ll have those goggles where you turn your head and the view you’re looking at moves in whatever direction you head does. You can go forward, backwards and upwards.

About 48 million kids are going to get drones. The only downside of a drone is that, in the hands of a kid, it won’t last nearly as long as a good stick-horse.

Drones can do a lot of stuff. How long will it be before they become a distraction to outdoor sports? – “Ralph, it seems the baseball smashed into a drone! That’s getting way too common, folks.”

One thing is for sure, it’s going to get harder and harder to surprise some the young folks today. Whatever electronic device they want in November may be outdated come December 25th.

Okay, I’ve taken up enough of your time. You now need to go to The Woodlands Mall. I understand there have been some changes. Kay and I would go, but I fear we’re too old. I’m now only good for one evening a year. I once wrote a Christmas shortstory about an elderly lady sitting at one of those slatted wooden benches outside of Mervins… or Sears. I miss Sears.  

 So, off you go. By the way, just in case your kids are as dumb as I was, I’d shy away from chemistry sets. I doubt you can even find a stickhorse. Kids are a lot more sophisticated today.  

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

 

Kay and the girls

 

Hayter’s article for Dec 7, 2022

“Writing under the influence of pain meds”

        Today’s training session at our house did not come as a surprise to me. Kay warned me a month ago that she was going to invite the girls over to show ‘em how to make jewelry for Christmas gift-giving.

        I didn’t mind at all. I checked the girls ahead of time and found them to be harmless. That can be said of most of Kay’s friends. The reason I gave in so easily to the gathering was that I knew I wouldn’t be here when the girls arrived.

The plan was for Brad and me to play racquetball and then go grab lunch somewhere. After that, we would go to his house and do some target practice with his air rifle. Brad has a big backyard that runs down to a lake, where he set up some small targets. The targets are small in size and far away in distance. No worry. Brad’s rifle is state-of-the-art. – Beg pardon? No. In fact, no one knows why the word “art” was placed at the end of “state of the”.

But you can forget that because Brad and I didn’t meat up. I mean “meet” up. My spelling isn’t all that good when I’ve got good health. Right now, I’m in pain. Four days ago, the kidney stones that I’ve been carrying around for a few years, became more apparent to me. Tomorrow I’m having one of ‘em crushed by sound waves. Yep, that’s the plan.

This is my third lithotripsy. My second one was not all that successful. It crushed half of the stone but left a shard that got trapped in my “out” tube. You can’t use sound waves to crush a stone that’s stuck in a narrow outlet. The doc had to use a pair of small grabbers to go in after it. Any tool with “grabber” in its name, doesn’t travel well in a narrow outlet.

Could the same thing happen during tomorrow’s procedure? My new urologist practically laughed at the possibility. At least, I think that’s what he was laughing at.  

But none of that does me a bit of good today. At this moment, seven ladies are having a great time not six feet away from my study. The women are members of a grief share group that has met each week for the last few months. Their last meeting was last week. 

 Most of the girls lost a husband. Kay lost her kid-brother, Tracy, last year. For the one final gathering, Kay invited everyone to our house, so she could show them how to make jewelry for the Holidays. From what I’m hearing they’re either having a blast or they’re wrestling.

I feel a need to check on things, so I’ll probably be gone for about an hour. What? Ah, something sweet? Okay, I’ll see if I can swipe the plate of cinnamon rolls. -- Back in a bit.

Three hours later. -- Well, that was a little longer than I planned. I blame it on the nap. I entered the room, I was walking in a stoop. My last pain pill caught up with me, so I was less than stable. It’s been my experience that kidney stones can cause you to bend over while walking. 

After the nap, I was right as rain. Which reminds me, if the word “art” is so versatile, why didn’t they replace “right as rain” with “right as art”? Neither sound appropriate. – That was my meds talking.

Back on topic, I wish you could’ve seen some of the jewelry work those women did. Kay is either a good jewelry-making teacher, or the ladies already knew how to make jewelry and just came over for the pleasant company. The Holidays are, without a doubt, a tough time for grieving spouses, parents, and kiddos.

As they prepared to leave, I gave each of our guests a copy of my “Christmas Storybook Stories” book. I read two of the stories to ‘em just to perk them up a bit. One story was the one about little Evie getting jokingly arrested on the night before Christmas. The other was about the time seven-year-old David Weller had to play Linus in a High School Christmas play. I won’t give much away, but I will say that both kids were great.

All of the ladies seemed to like the stories. Either that or they didn’t want to break the author’s heart. They were obviously a state-of-the-heart audience. It was a fun time. Even as sick as I am, I enjoyed it

One last thing. A few minutes ago, I got a call from a nurse telling me that my arrival time had changed from 8:00 a.m. to 5:30 a.m. I don’t know if I can trust my doctor to sound-blast my kidney that early in the morning.

(BTW: If in need of a Christmas gift, you can find my book of stories by keying in Christmas Storybook Stories Mark Hayter – Also, my novel can be found by keying in Summer of ’76 Mark Hayter. – I’m only advertising my books this way because I’m heavily medicated. 

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com