It’s been tickling in the back of my mind for a long time. Ever since the Christmas ads began popping up sometime after July 4^th: What happened to the Holidays?

It was one of those eclectic stream-of-consciousness musings that just seem to stick with you. Holidays used to be cool! Fun and friends and family and toys and food and seeing people you don’t get to during the year. Now it’s what do you Have, are you the Coolest, and “Every kiss begins with Kay Jewelers.” Now it’s just something to slug through.

I had my share of slugging to do this year. The company party was a special treat. There’s the Secret Santa thing buying something nobody wants for someone you don’t like, and given with a little smile thinking that everybody wants a wheel of brie cheese!

I got a paperclip dispenser. Now really? How many people get in the holiday spirit at Office Depot? How much brainpower does it take to get some printer ink, a few Sharpies, and oh yes, a lovely little Christmas item to be cherished for years?

And the office party was the place to be this year! What a rocking good time! Just what you want to do, hang around the same people you duke it out with daily for a little holiday cheer. And the cheer does flow. Some really bad decisions get made after a few dances with Jack Daniels. With camera phones and video phones, this year’s crop of blackmail photos should be a record-setter.

Misha, our dowdy little office gnome, found that boxed red wine and that mystery brie cheese weren’t the best mix. The carpet cleaners will get a bonus in their stocking for trying to get that out of the entryway rug. My two buddies’ at the office couldn’t help but snap away.

And Jenny, in accounting, well, the numbers didn’t quite add up. She tried to coax Matthew, the IT guy, into a dance in a dark corner. With furtive looks over his shoulder, he gave in to the ‘got something to show you’ line. Five minutes later the rest of the ladies burned carpet to the bathroom to soothe her rejected in-box. Matt is all-thumbs emotionally, and while he could’ve been nice about, it his server was definitely down. Surely this was an early night, with a huge sigh of relief that we had a paid week off to recoup and hopefully forget.

Man, I miss the holidays. It just rings over and over in my noggin.

Family gatherings have changed too. Now it’s a scheduling double-axle triple-loop to try to be everywhere at once. Dad: “Wadda mean you can’t make it on Christmas day, we always do ours on Christmas day…” and the pouting begins.

Being married blows the whole process. My choices: The In-laws, who want a blow-by-blow career update while constantly pointing out my advancement mistakes, or Dad getting mildly sloshed and trying to stick goopy kisses on everyone. Wait, he may shave this year, I tell my one-and-only. No luck. So it’s time to download my profile from CareerBuilder and brush up for the grilling I’m to receive come Happy Day. But my Dad can cook, I protest! Not a chance, I’m fat enough she jabs, poking at my growing six-pack cover and paring me down to inaudible mumblings. But Sis has her in-laws, brother has his…and…

I remember a friend whose family has their celebrations on December 30^th. The dad is a notorious cheapskate, and the mom loves the after-Christmas sales. They do all their shopping after the rush, and save forty percent. Now I like that idea! A family that saves together, gets together to brag about it! Hey honey, why don’t we… But no, I’ve been pounded by all quarters on that one, too. I thought it was pretty fresh, and a cool way to get around the Day-Timer disasters.

I miss the holidays. They used to be easy.

Every year I try to do something different. Everybody says they want to help the needy, want to ladle soup at the homeless shelter and whatnot. Ever try to do that? There’s so many of the guilt-ridden who want to reach out, you can’t even get assigned a spoon if you volunteer after Labor Day. They book that far in advance for volunteers! The last minute charity givers are out of luck.

This year I tried to do this, and not only found I was too late, but that the background checks they do now take six weeks! Homeland Security and liability and all that, they said. They have to check you out. They don’t want some idiot putting Exlax in some old bums’ mashed potatoes. As if! Geez, talk about taking the wind out of my ‘just want to help’ sails.

We’ve ruined the holidays.

Leaving the food bank downtown, I headed home totally dispirited. I just wanted to help, to feel good helping someone in need. And I got lawsuit-liability chucked in my face. I felt like a retread tire. I had to make a quick stop at the gas station/deli/superstore/mall to overpay for some gas. Get ready for higher prices, the radio blared as I pulled up to the store after filling up.

Some guy was sitting against the garbage can next to the door. He had a little cup in front of him and a beat up cardboard panhandling sign. He looked like he was taking a break, or defeated after a day of rejection. He looked up at me as I passed, starting to raise the sign, and I guess I had the look that said Don’t Even Try. His face dropped into a sadness that surprised even me as I blew past ignoring him.

Some depressingly-cheery Rudolph song assaulted me inside as I went in to grab a Coke and some chips for the drive home. I noticed they even had convenience-store holiday gift certificates. Maybe for next year’s Secret Santa, I thought miserably. Fumbling with the three five’s I got as change, I moved out of there fast. Brushing out the door trying to juggle the stuff and put the cash back in my wallet, the guy by the door speaks.

“I know you look like you don’t want to, but could you help out, even just a little?” His bullshit sign said something about being a vet and having a kid in Iraq. I thought What balls! Like we’d believe that? But the look on his face riveted me.

He was sad. A dejected sadness I couldn’t even touch, like his world had just gone wrong and he couldn’t find the handle. He didn’t look like a real drunk, and I’ve known a few. Not bad clothes, just some tatters, and old tennis shoes. But his eyes, my god. They grabbed me, clear blue with a watery liquid sheen, reddened from relentless hours of car exhaust, or maybe tears, stretching up to me in a silent plea like he had reached his limit. Like his next move may be to step in front of a bus going by. Desperation diluted with the knowing people just don’t give a ****, but he’d try just one more time.

Without even realizing it, one of the five’s I was fumbling with just fell. It floated down fluttering toward him as if someone had pushed my hand and it just dropped. His eye caught it falling, in slow motion, and realizing the gift a-coming, a moment of true thanks began to break on his lips, dried and cracked though they were.

“Oh man, thanks. Now I can call my son! Thank you, mister.” He said sitting up a little straighter. His jacket parted a little, and a medal briefly glowed at his neck in the mercury-vapor glare. Damn, that was a purple heart. Quickly he stood up, as I started to step back, kind of shocked as I hadn’t planned to give that much, or maybe even any.

What the hell, I thought, it’s Christmas. “Yeah, no problem. Happy Holidays.” I said glancing back to him just as he was reaching out to shake my hand, not seeing it. “Enjoy,” I added over my shoulder with a rise in my voice to make up for missing the social cue to shake his hand and I had already moved away.

“No really, thanks,” he called after me with a handshake now turned into a wave.

I waved back, and was already plotting what route home would be the least messed up for the fifty minute commute. Jumping in and heading out, I checked traffic as there’s a right-turn lane in front of me as I cross the road to make my left onto the two-lane road. Someone deciding late to make that right-turn cuts toward me out of the line of cars going by as I was inching out. I wrench the steering wheel right, trying to give him enough room to make it, too late.

He smacks my left front fender, bouncing off and continuing to the right turn, burning rubber around it. A hit-and-run. Great, Happy Holidays! I thought. And I’m already late to get home and get ready and go to the in-laws. This is really not good.

The sun had finished going down about twenty minutes ago, and the dusk was nearly gone. I pull off to the side of the turn lane and get out to check the damage. It was bad enough. The sheet metal was pressed into the tire, slicing open the sidewall. It hissed a dying sigh and was getting all flat on the bottom. The headlight wasn’t broken, just cocked upward a little. The bumper was bent but not busted off. Could be worse.

I knew triple-A would take at least an hour to get here. I could fix the tire myself, but the metal fender jammed into the wheel-well made it so I couldn’t even get it off. I was screwed on Christmas Eve. Man, the holidays suck.

A shadow passes across the back window as I’m looking at the damage. My veteran-in-need was walking up the side of the car, checking it out.

“Did you get a license plate? I saw him hit you, but he was too far away to catch the plate,” he offered looking down at the bent fender.

I hadn’t even thought of the ******* who hit me until then, my adrenaline pumping and now slowing down some. “No, I missed it trying to get out of the way,” I answered. “And I can’t even change the tire with the fender bent in like that,” I moaned, cringing at the flogging my next cell call home would bring. Late! She HATES being late! Especially to her parents.

He was kneeling down next to the tire, saying, “Hey, no problem. I used to work in a body shop,” he said and grabbing the fender with his bare hands, throwing his body weight backward. The fender screeched and bent back some, not a lot. “Hang on, just a sec,” as he put a foot against the wheel and lunged again. This time he got it back almost six inches, more than enough room now to change the tire.

“Hey, go easy with your hands!” I cautioned, as this was all happening so fast. I didn’t want this guy tearing his fingers off.

“Oh, no problem!” holding up his hands, and for the first time I could see they were as cracked and scaled as his lips were. “I’m tough!”

We had the tire changed and ready in no time. Just when I really needed it too. I found out that the sign wasn’t bullshit either. He really was a vet, and his son lived with his ex-wife in Charleston, South Carolina, and was now deployed for a second time to Bagdad. He said never sees him anymore, but tries to call when he can. He had set it up with USO to make the Christmas Day call, then was busted for vagrancy and used every dime he had to get out. Now he had to panhandle so he could make that call tomorrow. He was headed to Fresno by New Years as he had a job with his brother, but there was no time for the brother to send the him some cash to make the call to his boy.

“Hey, man, I really appreciate it,” I said as we put the tools back in the trunk. It hit me that he’d just said the same thing to me a few minutes ago. Real appreciation for someone helping when I really needed it. I understood his gratitude for the fiver now a little better. Unexpectedly finding someone who cared and helped me. My jaded outlook changed, and for the first time I saw him clearly.

“Hey no problem,” he said smiling. “You don’t know how much that call tomorrow means to me. And you made it possible. My boy may die in Iraq, and,” he choked up some, “you made my holiday.”

Driving away I realized where the holidays have gone.

They were gobbled up with my stupid attitudes, bitching about obligations, parties, and not realizing that some people had it a lot worse than I did. And some people really mean it when they try to help. My thinking was screwed up, thinking the holidays would always be there as I remembered them, being all about me.

We all have needs. And sometimes we need help changing a tire. But more than my tire had changed on the side of the road that Christmas Eve. What my veteran friend really changed was my reality. My heart.

I love the Holidays.

Copyright 2007 Rick Robinson

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Comments (5)

Posted by Daniel Jones 2007-11-21 16:26:33 Excellent! Very nice story, perfect to read during this time of the year. I'm going to give these holiday's a fighting chance. + Report this comment    + Delete this comment
Posted by David Neve 2007-11-21 16:26:37 hello rick the story spent a long time depressing me before it flopped... I am a true short story reader so this ran a little long for me. to be honest I scanned the middle hungry for the end. I stck with it because the style was good and I did not want to miss a good ending! + Report this comment
Posted by Ken Zahl MD 2007-11-22 09:38:18 Afternoon Dream Rick excellent handling of normal involuntary events, with a comic twist 8) + Report this comment    + Delete this comment
Posted by Unexceptable 2007-11-30 09:44:14 Awsome In my opinion the best story in the contest. + Report this comment    + Delete this comment
Posted by Wesley Freeman 2007-12-05 18:49:55 .... I enjoyed the way the story ended, but I did find it a little slow in the middle. It does have a good message. Good job. + Report this comment

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