Recovery aa - A Silent Night

Author

A Silent Night

Chronocidal Charlie

2004-12-25, 7:06 pm

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I took a sneak peek last night. Yep, I was naughty. I crept out of my bed
bout midnight in my warm red fuzzy pajamas with the feet wove on the ends
of the legs and buttoned the tailgate up tight over my scrawny old butt
(actually, it's a pair of red flannel undies that I got for a costume
several years ago for an old timers rendition of "The Butt Whackers"
suite.) and stuck my tootsies down in an old pair of combat boots and
bundled up in and old parka and took along an old surplus army blanket and
sneaked down to watch. Not down stairs, down to the pasture by my Christmas
tree that I posted the picture of several weeks ago to see if there was
actually anything to all this hype. Bitter cold for Texas, but crystal
clear, the city off a mile or so away was strangely, eerily silent. Not the
sounds of the normal honking, grinding traffic on the loop, the sounds of
the sirens on the ambulances going and coming from the two major emergency
centers within a stones throw from me, one a major trauma center with a
busy heliport normally all hours of the day and night, not much light from
the usually bustiling mall or major shopping centers which seemed to have
doused all the glaring parking lot security lights that usually block out
nature's night lights. It was quiet. Crisp. An almost crystalline,
tinkling, twinkling quality to the air. I found a vantage point and settled
in with a gnarled old Mesquite tree for cover and the trunk as a back rest
and kind of just sat and waited and watched. And I'll be damned!

Quiet thoughts come floating down
And settled softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with
Sweet memories...

Of Quiet nights and gentle days...

And I remembered...

A quiet night back mid forties. Lil Sis and I were probably about three and
five. What I remember most about the era was the "Big People" back then
talking about Armistices somethings, Surrender somethings, Ends to
fightings, Boys coming home, Good Will, Peace on Earth finally and
hopefully forever and ever. And hopes of Never Again.

But most of all I remember that night, 'cause long about an hour after it
got real good and dark, my mother bundled up Lil Sis and I for our nightly
trip "Down behind the Barn" to the board with a hole in the middle, that
was nailed to two sapling trunk logs wedged 'tween the big logs on one of
the old log seed bins and corn cribs and tool and tack storage buildings
made of logs with adobe mud for chink in the walls, to do our nightly do
so's we wouldn't do it in bed.

What quiet thoughts most came floating down last night was the similarity of
the two nights. That night back then was cold, crystal, twinkling, millions
of stars blanketing the sky cause back the nearest neighbor we had was four
miles away and the nearest town almost fifteen, No electricity, so no
light. Mother carried the old coal oil lantern that hung on the porch to
light to make sure there weren't no stinging lizards on the butt hole on
the board and there was no light from the house cause Daddy had done gone
to bed. But me and Lil Sis weren't interested in all that pretty sky and
quiet stuff, cause it was Christmas Eve and I guess the first one either of
us were really aware of and we kept up a constant twitter and wondering and
wishing yearningly out loud about what Santa was gonna bring us and put
under the tree my Daddy had cut and set in the corner and decorated with a
few small glass balls, tinsel rope and a star on top cut from paste board
and covered with scrap tinfoil. Oh it was a marvelous tree set in the
palatial surroundings of a clap board three room shack that had a main room
with tow rocking chairs, couple of leather thong bound straight backs, one
bed room and a kitchen/dining room and small smoky fire place and hearth on
one side of the main room. Oh, it was a marvelous apparition. Me and Lil
Sis had got into the spirit ourselves by cutting our own little tree and
sneaking it into a corner of another little log building that was sometime
used to hold corn to feed the cows and pigs when there was cows and pigs on
the farm, but was empty that year. We stole some of Mother's finger nail
polish and painted little balls and stuff we had made and set to dry from
the red clay and mud we had in abundance and hung on our own little tree in
hopes that maybe even if Santa didn't want to come in the main house, maybe
he would stop by the barn. Maybe just to rest or feed his rein deer and
leave sumpin for us in return.

We went back up the lane to the house and on to the porch, Mother doused the
lantern and hung it on it's nail, lit the coal oil lamp she had left
sitting on the wash basin and water bucket stand and we went back into the
dark of the house and the tree came to life. Sparkling and twinkling with
what seemed a million little lights to our tiny eyes. I know today there
was only five or six of them and they were old dash light bulbs out of the
junk cars that were plentiful in them days and the were wired to a six volt
car battery. The hand cranked wind up Victrola came to life with Jingle
Bells and Daddy sitting in the rocker with a surprised look on his face
babbling about hearing a lot of noise and by the time he had got out of
bed, the door had slammed and he guessed what ever it had been was gone.

Butttttt. Oh WOW, a red Western Flyer Wagon with a wide eyed Baby Doll
nestled in ti was sitting on the quilting down that was spread under the
tree, along with candy canes, cookie and other goodies and a whole bushel
of all kinds of fresh fruits, that I now know my cousins Mott and Hub down
in South Texas in th Rio Grand Valley used to ship up to us every year for
Christmas.

It was beautiful and we didn't even have to strike a match and imagine like
that little girl I'd been told about.

http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_match.html

And I remember that year because Daddy didn't get drunk.

Yes, it was quiet and silent and quiet thoughts came floating down.

One thought of long ago when I was military in a far off land and memories
of a little girl and thoughts brought back by talk of Soldiers filling
their pockets with toys or candy for local kids.

Not too far from the old Green's Hotel in Pesawar where the bus from
Budhaber stopped there was always a band of street urchins hanging out to
attack prosperous looking travelers and the occasional American GI that
ventured into Peshawar in hopes of extorting some Baksheesh from them.
Ragged, dirty, unkempt, wild, they were. One didn't dare parcel out
anything to them on a something for each of them at the risk of losing a
watch, ring or wallet in the process, so the safe thing to do was just lay
a hand full of rupees or what ever on the ground, and get the hell out of
the way and let them handle the parceling out. They seemed to ahve some
kind of heirarchal structure from weakest to strongest worked out, but
there was on little girl. Beautiful little face and dark smoky burning eyes
much like the eyes like Steve McCurry captured in his photo that became so
world famous

http://www.nationalgeographic.com/t.../exp030903.html

Only she was much younger. Her legs were totally deformed bent and drawn
crab like and tiny under her and she moved by walking with her hands and
scooting on her little butt and thighs which looked as tough and hardened
as a big animals paws or hooves. Ragged, dirty, unkempt, hair tangled and
lice ridden, but those burning, smoking eyes most often riped through to
my heart and I was always so saddened to look back after the melee over my
change or candy had cleared and the dust had settled and the others had
disapered into the alleys and cubby holes of Peshawar she would be sitting
there empty handed and looking after me. One day I tried somethng. I put a
little bit of hard candy and couple of rupees in a little brown paper bag
and held on to it while I put down my usual baksheesh ransom and at about
the point where I would usually look back and see her eyes following me
down the street, I slipped the little bag in a hole in the lattice work
bricking of the wall. I looked back a few yards on down the street and seen
her quietly, stealth like looking around like he was making sure she wasn't
being watched and scooting down to where I'd stashed the bag. This beacme a
regular thing when I would go into town alone for most of the rest of my
time there. Did I make a difference? Is she alive today. Did she survive.

Would she remember me?

But last night her face and memory came silently from being pressed between
the pages of my mind.

The silence and beauty of the night was powerful and as I sat there misty
eyed focusing on a distant star and the tree in the pasture I recaptured
the shimmering majesty of my child hood memory of the tin foil star and
twinkling lights and that quiet wonderful night long about 1945.

And my burned out match flared again.

And again
And again.

And the tree still stands.

I never once imagined what beautiful things I could see underneath my
Christmas tree.

http://home.hot.rr.com/olgnuby/tree.jpg

CC

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Tim and Lisa

2004-12-25, 7:06 pm

Awwwww......Charlie!!!! That was awesome. I usually cannot take the time
to read such lengthy posts, but miraculously the baby fell asleep which
allowed me to soak it all in word by word. I used to get so confused when
reading your stuff, but now the beauty of your chosen words pokes me in the
eyes clear as day. Thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing those two
wondrous experiences with us. And now, right on cue, the baby is crying and
I must tend to her.

Much love,
Lisa
(Tim, Lily and Sadie too)

Ted H

2004-12-25, 7:06 pm

On Sat, 25 Dec 2004 18:22:32 GMT,
Chronocidal Charlie <clewis4@hot.rr.com> wrote:
>
> I took a sneak peek last night.

> Quiet thoughts come floating down
> And settled softly to the ground
> Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
> I touched them and they burst apart with
> Sweet memories...

Thank you Charlie. Merry Christmas to you, too.

--
Ted H

Chronocidal Charlie

2004-12-25, 7:06 pm

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Ted H wrote:

> On Sat, 25 Dec 2004 18:22:32 GMT,
> Chronocidal Charlie <clewis4@hot.rr.com> wrote:
>
>
> Thank you Charlie. Merry Christmas to you, too.
>

And thank you for reminding me, that I forgot to footnote and give credit to
Mac Davis, I believe for the lyrics snippet above that was part of the
inspiration.

I was just wrapping up the writing and ready to review it when my door got a
knock and I hit send and answered the door. I reckon I could blame my
neighbor Shirley who so rudely interrupted my reverie. ;-)

I could, but I ain't. I'd noticed her light still on late last night in my
coming and goings and was wondering what she was doing still up that time
of night since she lives alone and hadn't said anything of having guests or
big doings at her place.

But I found out when she came by.

I guess she had stayed up most all night cooking and this morning came round
making the excuse, I just cooked more than I can eat and thought maybe you
would enjoy some Christmas dinner and handed me a big plate of mashed
potatoes, turkey and dressing and warm fresh bread.

I noticed as I watched her go that she had bags with what seemed like a
whole bunch more plates under her arms as she hit the doors of five or six
old single bachelors and ladies in complex delivering all that accidently
"Cooked More Than I could Eat" stuff.

It's been a good day and I haven't even had to wash dishes.

Yet.

Good to see ya Ted.

Charlie

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Ted L.

2004-12-27, 2:06 am

In article <Idizd.5717$wD4.4503@fe1.texas.rr.com>, Chronocidal Charlie
<clewis4@hot.rr.com> wrote:

> I never once imagined what beautiful things I could see underneath my
> Christmas tree.

Thanks Charlie -- for the words, for the thoughts, for different
memories, and for the picture. And a belated personal Merry Christmas
to you.

--
Ted L.

Benedictus, qui venit in nomine Domini.

Ted H

2004-12-28, 4:06 am

Tim and Lisa

2004-12-30, 4:06 am