by John Mooy
The other day I received an email from my editor. The greatest editor in the country managing a small town newspaper. At any rate in her email, she indicated if we had a Christmas story, we should have it submitted before the 19th of December. So, I’ve been thinking about what I might write and have now arrived at my Christmas story. So here we go.
Years and years and years ago in the small village of Marcellus it was the Christmas season. All throughout the village if you walked down any of the streets in the evening you would see colored lights and decorations everywhere. The only sound you would hear on these quiet snow-covered evenings was the sound of the snow squeaking under your boots as you walked along. Always you were bundled up to fend off the cold, cold evenings.
As a child of Marcellus waiting for Christmas to arrive was a test of your patience and a joy of anticipation. You had already spent time going through the Sears and Roebuck catalog looking at all the toys and “dog earring” the pages indicating where your parents could find what it was you were hoping to find gift wrapped under the tree on Christmas morning.
The days surrounding Christmas were short on daylight. The sun came up later in the morning and went down earlier in the afternoon. But the days still seemed to pass by so slowly when you keep looking at gifts under the Christmas tree and wondering what they might be. Around town many of the ladies were baking all kinds of sweet treats from cookies to fudge to fruitcake and popcorn balls.
The stockings were hung and the lights and tinsel on the trees were absolutely beautiful. Main Street had the light poles decorated and many of the storefronts were decorated as well.
And the green wooden box and the red wooden box were each attached to a pole on the north and south side of the street. White block lettering spelled out on each box, SANTA CLAUS, NORTH POLE. Children in town who wrote letters to Santa could drop them in the boxes.
Santa Claus. That jolly old man with the ability to work all three shifts the day and night before Christmas. He traveled through the sky in his sleigh pulled by reindeer delivering presents all across the world. Just knowing that Santa was coming made it difficult for any youngster to get to sleep on Christmas Eve. Before turning in, most children would leave a note for Santa and a plate of cookies, carrots and sugar for his reindeer and, because Santa would be so cold, something to warm him up a bit. A glass of scotch or bourbon.
Usually, the children were up before the sun and wanting to leave their bedrooms to see if Santa had been to their house. And lo and behold, he had been there. There were more presents, and the plate for Santa and the reindeer was now empty. The glass was empty as well.
Santa is such a quiet worker no one in the house even heard him.
Once again Christmas in Marcellus was a success. It must be the children had all been good throughout the year and found something under the tree that brought a smile to their face.
And as we grow older from childhood into adulthood, when December 25 rolls around each year we can’t help but have a smile cross our face when recalling those early days of Christmastime in Marcellus.
Have a great Christmas, Marcellus.
You’re the best.
HO HO HO!
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