White Christmas
DISCLAIMER: I apologize if any of the words used here offend my readers. I use them only to illustrate the point of my story.
What would Christmas time be without a festively decorated tree? And what would that symbol of the holiday season be without all those treasured ornaments that had been collected over the years? Or without the treetop, a cherished family heirloom that had been passed down from parent to child through several generations?
It wouldn't be Christmas, the old man decided, as he strung a set of miniature blinking lights around the bare branches of a seven-foot-high Douglas fir that was positioned in front of the large picture window in his living room.
"Maybe next year we ought to get one of those pre-lit trees," he suggested.
"You say that every year," his wife laughed.
"That's because every year I get aggravated when I put up the lights."
As her husband waged his annual war with the sets of Christmas lights, the old woman turned on the radio and tuned into the local easy-listening station, one which promised uninterrupted holiday music throughout the day. She then placed the red and white hand-quilted tree skirt around the base of the Douglas fir to hide the unsightly tree stand. While she worked, she sang along with the carols being played on the radio.
Silent night, holy night.
All is calm. All is bright ...
Her husband, who seemed to be losing the battle of the multicolored twinkling lights, cried in exasperation, "Damn it! I checked this set before I put it on the tree, and it worked then. Why the hell isn't it working now?"
Reluctantly, the cantankerous old man took out a replacement bulb and began the dreaded, time-consuming task of testing each of the two hundred and fifty light sockets on the strand, complaining the whole time.
"Made in Taiwan," he read on the empty box. "It figures, doesn't it? Those damned Chinks can't make anything right. This is going to take me all night!"
"Relax, dear, you've got plenty of time," the old woman declared, remaining cheerful despite her husband's ranting.
"Silent Night" came to an end, and a livelier, nonreligious song began to play.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Everywhere you go ...
As Perry Como was singing about candy canes and holly, the old woman took the opportunity to look out the window at the decorations on the front lawn. Unlike the neighbors who covered their property with huge inflatables, she and her husband preferred the old-fashioned plastic blow molds. Over the course of their forty-eight-year marriage, the elderly couple had accumulated quite a few of them. There was a Santa Claus with a sleigh and eight reindeer, a red-nosed Rudolph, three snowmen, four angels, Victorian carolers and an entire nativity set consisting of Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus and the three Wisemen.
"Yes, we have plenty of time to finish the tree," she continued. "Our guests won't start arriving until seven o'clock."
Luck was on the old man's side. He quickly found the right bulb—an event akin to picking the winning numbers in the lottery—and the lights came on, all two hundred and fifty reds, blues, yellows and greens twinkling merrily. His spirit having improved greatly once the lights were on the tree, the old man accompanied his wife as she sang along with Robert Goulet.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Make the Yuletide gay ...
"Hey, that reminds me," he said, turning toward his wife, eager to share a juicy tidbit of gossip. "Guess who I saw the other day."
"Who?"
"Rob Meyers, the guy that used to live in that big house over on Montgomery Street. You remember him, don't you?"
"Of course, I remember Rob. He used to go to our church before he moved across town."
"He had a son as queer as a three-dollar bill, a real pansy. He always walked and dressed like a sissy. Well, the son finally came out of the closet—as if no one had ever suspected him of being a fruit. Get this, after being married for more than ten years, he left his wife and moved in with his boyfriend."
"Poor Rob."
"You can say that again! Some family that guy's got, huh? His only son's a fag, and his two daughters aren't much better. The older one married that Commie Jew lawyer, and her kid sister is one of them women's libbers. It figures, doesn't it? Most of them are dykes, anyway. I guess sexual deviance runs in the family."
On the radio, Perry Como was replaced by Andy Williams.
It's the most wonderful time of the year ...
Now that the tree was lit, the old man's wife opened a large cardboard carton of assorted glass ornaments, and the two seniors started hanging them on the tree with green wire hooks, remembering where and when they had gotten each ornament. For the two of them, it was a pleasant time reminiscing about Christmases long gone.
"Remember this one?" the wife asked her husband, holding up a delicate glass Santa sitting in a sleigh. "We bought this in Asbury Park the year we were married."
"How could I forget? Those were the good old days, back when it was still safe to go to Asbury Park," the husband pointed out. "Now, you take your life in your hands. No one goes there except Niggers and Spics. It's a damn shame, you know. You can't go anywhere these days without running into drug addicts who try to rob you for the change you've got in your pockets."
As her husband ranted about the changing face of Asbury Park, the old woman took out a hand-crafted clothespin reindeer ornament that held special meaning for her.
"I can still remember when Mary Anne gave this to us. She was so proud that she'd made it all by herself."
"Yeah," the husband said, smiling sentimentally, "she came running home from kindergarten with it and couldn't even wait for Christmas to give it to us." His smile suddenly faded as he continued, "You know, nowadays they don't even allow kids to celebrate Christmas in the public schools. Thanks to the Jews, the atheists and the damned Jehovah's Witnesses! First, the Commie bastards stopped school prayer and then the atheists objected to the wording of the Pledge of Allegiance, and now they're trying to take away Christmas. I just don't know what the world is coming to. It's as though this country is going to hell in a handbasket!"
"Don't go getting yourself all upset, dear. You know what the doctors at the medical center said about the dangers of stress."
"Doctors? What doctors? They're nothing but a bunch of gooks, towel heads and sand niggers. Where did they get their medical degrees? No doubt, in some two-cow town in India or Pakistan! There's not one honest-to-goodness Christian American in the whole bunch of them!"
After the husband and wife finished hanging their ornaments on the Christmas tree, the old man opened several packs of silver foil icicles. Handling only two or three strands at a time, he and his wife started draping the shiny metallic strands over the branches. As they worked, both of them were singing along with Bing Crosby on the radio.
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know ...
"Just like the ones I used to know," the old man echoed the Irving Berlin lyrics with bitter resentment. "The whole world's different since you and I were kids. Back then, America was a great place. That was before the goddamned Guineas started bringing dope into our cities. Those Mafia bastards put dope into our schools, and the Commie atheists took prayers out. It was also before the Niggers had their hands out for welfare, and our taxes skyrocketed. And before American highways were filled with cars made by the Japs and the Krauts—the same people that killed American boys in the Second World War."
The old woman nodded her head but said nothing as she placed the last threads of tinsel on the Christmas tree.
"It's getting late, dear," she announced as she looked at the grandfather's clock in the corner of the room. "Our friends are going to start arriving soon with their children. You'd better get ready."
Humming "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," the old man walked into the bedroom where his suit had been set out on the bed.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" he laughed as he got dressed. "At least we'll have a white Christmas."
Then the Grand Wizard checked his reflection in the full-length mirror, admiring the long white robe and pointed conical hood. Finally, he grabbed a sack of toys and went to greet his fellow members of the Ku Klux Klan.
Meanwhile, the old woman added the final touch to the Christmas tree. Using a step stool to reach the top of the Douglas fir, she placed atop the tree a delicate porcelain angel that held a banner proclaiming "Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men."
According to History Revealed Magazine (Christmas 2014 issue), on Christmas Eve, December 24, 1865, six Civil War veterans formed a secret society to thwart the government's progressive efforts to improve conditions for African-Americans. The society they formed was the Ku Klux Klan.
"Silent Night" written by Franz Gruber
"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" written and © by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane
"White Christmas" written by Irving Berlin © the Estate of Irving Berlin
Let us all learn a lesson from our cat friends: regardless of our differences, we're all part of one family.
