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My Story
My Story
I have finally been given permission by my superior to tell you an unusual story through the eyes of a lost angel. My mission was simple at first, to watch over you every night and to make sure you minded your ma & pa, but I found you much more than a simple mission. I found you to be a life time of dreams, hopes, fears, and passion on those cold winter nights.
As I sit here dusting off my old log, I open by book to a time where the memories are so clear. I was standing there clearing the bitter frost from the window pane and as my eyes focused in, I found a room full of joy, for it was the Christmas of ’69. There you were Johnny sitting Indian style at your mother’s feet opening a little red box, but it was not the content of the box that I remember, it was the overwhelming excitement on your face.
No Johnny, Santa Claus didn’t forget you.
My eyes shifted back and forth trying to capture it all, I stopped for a moment to focus in on Charlie. He was holding a hockey stick in total amazement. Thinking to himself that this was the best Christmas he had ever had. You were right Charlie, it was your best Christmas, but not because of what you received from Santa but because of that card you made in school and gave to your mother. I wish you could have known what that card meant to her.
As I looked away, I saw Tommy opening a box. For the life of me I can’t remember what was in that box, but I do remember what you did Tommy.
You hopped & jumped over papers and boxes to kiss your father’s face.
His eyes opened so wide, then started to shutter very quickly. He turned away only to meet your mother’s eyes. For that split moment, a lifetime of love was exchanged. I remember that even very well for your father had the strength to hold back the tears, but I did not. However; my tears quickly turned into laughter because your father had put too much paper in the fireplace and a flame flared up and scared both of you half to death.
I turn the pages back to unforgettable times. It was a cold clear arctic night when I met Santa Claus. There he was in a crowded smoke-filled café. I noticed Santa staring out the window shaking his head as he read a letter from the little blonde one; Danny. Danny’s request was a tough one, for he asked for a sled that would almost be impossible to make - a sled that would go down in history as the greatest sled of all. Santa had
told me that when he presented the drawings for the sled to his elves they scuffed and laughed and said it was impossible to make a sled as large as this one. So Santa took it upon himself. It had been over 60 years since Santa ha last made a toy only because the making of toys was something the elves took pride in and cherished, but, the elves knew deep down inside that it was Santa who was the greatest toy maker of all. When this might project was completed the sled stood ten feet tall and two and a half feet wide. It would carry up to six passengers. That Christmas morning when you kids work up, I never saw so many wide eyes. You were so loud that you work up your Dad. As your Dad entered the room he was met by two screaming little boys tugging at his arm, yelling “Look Daddy, look at the huge sled Santa brought us.” Your father replied, “Judas jumped a ball headed. How in the hell did he get that down the chimney.”
At that moment I saw little Danny whispering over and over to himself, “Dreams do come true.” Yes Danny, dreams do come true if you wish hard enough. Later as the life of that sled began to unfold, other sleds would yield to this monstrous freighter as it would roar down the hill. For if there was ever a king of the mountain, this sled surely wore the crown.
As I flip the pages in my log, I stop to read what I had written many years before. Can you remember Bobby that Christmas you got those brand new hockey skates? If you could have stopped right before you opened that box and looked over your shoulder into Linda’s eyes, you would have seen that she was as excited as you were. For what was yours was hers, and what was hers was yours. This love you shared was unique between a brother and sister. As time has passed that love is still evident even though the miles have come between you. It is only the outward signs that have changed, but the inner feelings still remain.
I recall each Christmas with lots of kids reaching for toys and presents under the tree. The tree would sway with the movement of the kids. One Christmas Jimmy bumped a Christmas bulb and it fell from the tree and broke. It happened to be a new bulb. “Be careful” was all that was said.
The new bulbs always had a hard time holding on to the tree, but the older bulbs seem to hold on so tight for they knew what was in store. You see they had been there so many times before.
Turning my pages to another chapter, I recall very well one Christmas Eve all of you kids were in the living room sitting around in a circle telling Christmas stories. The fire in the fireplace was dying down and the only other lights shining were the lights on the Christmas tree. Your mother was in the kitchen making candles and singing “Silent Night, Holy Night,” so very softly. I was so captivated by her gentle voice that I started to harmonize with her. I stopped immediately when I realized what I had done. She looked around to see no one – so she brushed it off. Boy did I catch a little “heaven” for that.
I returned later that night to make sure all of the children were in bed. As the last light went out, I started to make my way back to the woods. I thought I would make one more security check in the living room. As I peered in, Ira had pulled the couch in front of the fireplace. All of the light were, even the Christmas tree lights. Ira was sitting there with his arm around Margaret Ann. She had her head on his shoulder. They were glazing into the fire. As Margaret Ann fell asleep, I heard Ira whisper to her how much he loved her and how proud and honored he was to be a part of this family. He then kissed her on the forehead and put his head on hers and fell asleep in front of that old fireplace.
When I think of it, that old fireplace sure did its part. It kept you all warm and diminished the dark. I wish so much that everyone could see that that old fireplace was much more than what could be seen. It was the cornerstone of the family, a pillar of strength and oh how I remember that awful fire of ’62, everyone was devastated but that old fireplace just brushed off the soot and with a grin looked into the wind and said we will simple begin again. For it was at that point that I knew that fireplace and I had something in common. To always be strong. The days have grown old and the years have gone by but if you should ever want to understand that old fireplace and are sincere, look deep into its fire, for it is only there they he will begin to disclose his most inner secrets to you. And don’t be surprised if he says, II love you.”
Many seasons have come and gone since I was sent to watch over you and through the years I have followed this child as he entered my home.
He walks with a song and his axe. His goal is to build the most noble of wreaths. As he walks among the trees they all stand tall and proud, hoping to give a part of themselves. As to be a part of this wreath is the greatest honor of all. Patrick, I was always the whistling wind and the snapping twigs behind you. I will always welcome you into my home, please come and visit me soon.
My mind is wandering and a smile comes to my face. I am remembering one of my favorite Christmas seasons. It was the first Christmas season I heard that poem written especially for me. How proud I was and honored that you took the time out of your busy lives to give me a gift – a gift that was made from love. And I thought I did such a good job at keeping myself a secret. How did you know it was I that told Ol’ Santa Claus?
I come upon another chapter in my log. I remember seeing the sparkle in your Grandmother’s eyes and I realized how many Christmases had gone by. But it was you Mary Jo who kept the Christmas spirit alive in her heart. The special times you two shred, were as precious to her as they were to you. I know you worried every time Mamie got up at night for fear she would stumble or fall and I, Mary Jo, wondered too how she knew when to step over the dog.
My smile quickly fades as I remember that year when it rained most of December. There was an element of sadness in the air. It was the fire time that Margaret Ann and Ira were not there. I remember walking back from the house wondering if Christmas would ever be the same. My emotions overcame me as I fell to the base of that oak tree. For the first time I began to doubt if getting my wings was really worth it all. At that moment I sensed my eyes turning into a reservoir of broken dreams as the light yielded itself to the dark. I felt like I was wrapped in chains unable to tell you that all would be well. As I sat there in my sorrow I suddenly smelled the burning birch in the air. That was my cue to continue my mission.
Seven, I turn the pages of my log, seven pages back, seven years. I’ve been watching this mouse for a half hour now. He’s been eating the crumbs off the living room floor. Every few seconds he stops, raises his little ears and listens. His eye shift back and forth a few times, then his ears drop and he continues to eat. This mouse has lived through more winters than his cousins because he knows how to survive. The wood pile is controlled by the rats and he knows that the kitchen is filled with traps. I suddenly close my eyes and listen to two whispering voices coming from the basement. “Come on Paul.” “I’m coming Peter.” As they start to make their way up the stairwell the stairs give the warning sound for the mouse. I then open my eyes to see that little mouse with his ears erected high. He turned and made a quick dash toward the piano. His feet stop running two feet from the piano, sliding under it was ease. So that’s how he has survived all these years. He has the best hiding place of all. I then turn my attention to Peter & Paul coming up the stairs. Peter was so quiet, every footstep was neatly planned. But no matter how hard Paul tried, he could not be as quiet as Peter. As they made their way through the kitchen and dining room, I saw four little eyes peeking around the corner. Their eyes opened so wide as they both whispered simultaneously, “Santa Claus has been here.” I then leaned back away from the window, thinking to myself why am I the only one standing here?
This precious time, I wanted to share with someone. But loneliness is tough, the toughest role I’ve ever played. I knew it was all part of the plan.
I must get my wings.
As I scan through the pages of my log, I come to a crease at the top of the page. It is a chapter that I have read many times to myself - a chapter that has not yet failed to make me laugh and cry. I notice the edge of the pages slightly beginning to yellow, for it was a Christmas many years gone by. As I begin to read, the pages seem to come to life. The children were running through the house with excitement for Santa had answered their prayers. I noticed two little freckled face girls crawling beneath the towering tree. They come upon a special gift that they would remember for many years to come. My vision is blocked for a moment but as I get a
clearer view, little Georgie and Susan were holding two large dolls – one wearing pink, the other wearing blue. How delicate this moment was – when a dream comes true for a child. I recall those two little girls holding their dolls close to their hearts. The dolls are gone now and the two little girls have grown to be women, but I know that they learned a valuable lesson. That dolls are for children but dreams are for everyone and if you want something to come true, it must first start with a prayer.
Leafing through my notes, I read what I have written years before. December has awakened and having been so well received before, I look forward to visiting you once more. I follow the meandering smoke through what is now a black forest. It is early Christmas morning. As I make my way around the wood pile, lights begin to turn on one by one. I feel a nudge – I turn and look. It is one of the dogs wishing me a Merry Christmas! I was always well received by my four legged friends for we both shared the duty of watchman. I slip him a treat and he falls asleep once more. I make my way to a frosted window. I scratch the frost to get a better view. To my surprise I notice that your mom is well enough to come home from the hospital. She is on the couch, surrounded by her children. As I look deep into here, something tells me this woman has earned her wings. Suddenly a young boy has the attention of all. Wayne begins to speak from the cellar of his soul. His statement is brief but he speaks for all. I turn and look at the ground as I hear Wayne say, “The greatest gift of all is having mom home for Christmas.” A moment of silence engulfs the room. Some can hold the tears, others are not so lucky. Wayne, it was the greatest gift of all because before the new year finished, it was your mother’s last Christmas.
Two hour before daybreak, Santa Claus has made his debut. I am piercing through the window looking around the silent living room. Year after year I’ve studied every piece of furniture in that room. This year’s attention goes to that big red tree stand. I know there are tree stands and there are tree stands, but I have never known a beast like this – one that can contain the mightiest timber there is. Those two hours flew by and before I knew it, I was in the midst of another Christmas celebration. This Christmas was quite different than the ones in the past. For this was the year that gifts were to be handmade. This brought back simplicity as well as the true meaning of Christmas. This was demonstrated by the love and time Katie put into that blouse she made for Peggy. This may well have been the turning point in a love-hate relationship into complete love. As you Peggy opened that box and pulled out that blouse, the look on Katie’s face was the look of uncertainty. For it was fear that Katie possessed that it would not hold a candle to your standards. But when you smiled and ranted and raved about it and then gave Katie a kiss that was the final seal into an endless friendship of love. Christmas has a way of bringing people closer together. Please take advantage of that magic.
As I close my log, my mind races back and forth through the years. I realize that I have not even scratched the surface of this unique family.
So many of my peers have wondered how a family that is separated by so many miles can stay so close to each other. I am sure by now you realize that you may travel a million miles but the thought of one another is never more than an inch form your hearts.
Well, I guess by now you have asked yourself, “Who am I really?” You must know who I am and why I came is not important but as your guardian I am indestructible. The name you gave me, I resented at first. I was ridiculed by my peers but soon that ridicule turned into envy for this name has changed my character dramatically for I am no longer known as the lost angle, but I am the proud LOOKOUT MAN. And if there is any wisdom that I could bestow to you is that you pass this on to your children and your children’s children...
The Lookout Man is looking through the windows every night To see if little boys and girls are always acting right,
And if you act up naughty, don’t mind your ma’s & pa’s,
The Lookout Man will see you, and tell Ol’ Santa Claus.
And in the twilight of your years, if you should see an unexplained shadow, fear not, for it is only me. For my once quick step has diminished.
P.S. I have finally earned my wings – Merry Christmas!
Originally written by Bobby, Jill, Jimmy & Lisa – Christmas 1985
