Christmas (Pt.4) … Recently

A few reminiscences from the past week …

Christmas favorites blaring from AOL Radio on the Computer in the living room … 10 year old singing, 2 year old hopping & dancing (in that hop-dance combination that only two year olds can) … 6 year old boy doing something akin to break dancing and convulsing while belly flopping on the recliner.

Christmas.

Asked a coworker at the recovery center to portray St Nicholas at our church on Sunday, the eve of St Nicholas Day. We’ve always had presents available for the kids, but never a visit from “the Saint.”

Zeek’s not a churchgoer. He grew up Roman Catholic and used to serve in the altar … till one day he tripped on his robes and fell. And then there was the time he was supposed to pour water over the priest’s fingers and he, well, used the wine. He’s always very animated when he tells that story … about getting fired as an altar boy. I’ve heard it at least five times.

He was a portrait of humility on Sunday as he handed out presents, in costume, to our gathered young folks. They were in awe. Even the adults were … different. It was a touching scene. He later said it made his day. Others at work have said that he can’t stop talking about it.

Christmas.

Listening to the “John Boy & Billy Christmas Album” CD … at least one selection from Lipless … “All I Want For Christmas is my Lips to Touch.” My son can’t remember half the things we tell him. He remembered that though. He’s also been singing “Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg!” — much to his parents’ chagrin — for months now.

Christmas.

As we’re leaving church the 10 year old asks, “Dad, who was that?”

“Who?”

“The guy you had playing St Nicholas.”

“I guess it was St Nicholas.”

“Dad! Come on. Who was it? Mom said she didn’t know him.”

“I don’t know, Mary Catherine, I just assumed it was St Nicholas.”

“Dad!”

“No … it couldn’t have been St Nicholas,” the six year old interjects, “because St Nicholas has two pieces of hair on the side and one on top. Right, Daddy?”

[He’s referring to the Saint’s balding pate as portrayed in some icons.]

“Well …”

Christmas.

By the time we got home, it’s only a five minute drive, Basil had convinced himself that it really was St Nicholas. He said that he was watching him leave the church and then he just vanished into thin air … and went back to heaven. [My wife’s version is that while Basil was watching him leave the church parking lot, she closed the door cutting off his view.]

Whatever.

Zeek loved that story.

Christmas.