Skip to main content

SERMON FROM THE DECK (The Christmas Story Version)

 Santa answered my call last night.


It took a while to get past his tough receptionist, but eventually the big guy came on the line, I believe to placate and get rid of me.

 We talked about memories of Christmas past. He reminded me that I asked for the Coleco Electric Football and that it wasn't his fault that it sucked.

"You were supposed to be able to program the players by adjusting the fins on the bottom, but they just ran around in circles. And the kickers, the kickers, they both were broken by the second day." 

He told me that he hoped my greed begat a lesson that was taught with crappy, broken things.

 

I reminded him that there has been no action on my later requests. World peace. Eliminated famine. Brotherhood and sisterhood. The age of Aquarius fulfilled.

 He drew a deep breath, sighed a huge sigh, and then admitted that the power to have these oh so precious gifts does not come from a magical, imaginary elf in red, but is inside every one of us, just screaming to be let out.

"To activate the power we must resist those who beat us down and spit us out and only a few have the strength."

"So never?"

"Not up to me."


He then told me that I was a much better old boy than I was as a youngster, and he asked me what I would want this year for Christmas.

 I thought for a minute and then answered.

"I would like dogs to never get sick and old.  I would like dogs to never die.  If you want to make an old, but good, boy happy, you will grant me this."


I thought I heard the big fella choke, sniff, and then a muffled snob came over the line. A long pause, and then.

"Like I told you before, some things are out of my power, and to tell you the truth, life, sickness and death are all under the control of Mother nature. But know this. Your dog is never lost, and despite you not being able to see your buddy in the flesh, he or she will always be with you, and not just in your memories. And this I promise. When you are old and sick, drawing your last breath, the final vision in life that you have before your soul leaves your body will be lost dogs, licking your face, grabbing your sleeve, dragging you, welcoming you home."

"Are you sure? It sounds too good to be true."

"I'm Santa. You can trust me with this. I got you the dammed Coleco Football, didn't I?"


I realized I was paying for the call, and long distance to North Pole Tel is very expensive, so I thanked him and bid my farewell with a final question. He answered.

"The cookies? Your brother ate all of the cookies. That's why he got all of that coal in his stocking."

 Another of life's mysteries solved.


And if you have read this far and even if you bailed...

Merry Christmas and all the best in 2024

(Pet your puppies.)


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Heartbreak Comes At Us From All Sizes

 I'm going to blame it on the smoke, but in reality the smoke lifted early last evening, around the same time the rain that was supposed to fall didn't. I was choked up as I removed the nest this morning. I won't admit to having tears in my eyes, and if you had caught me I would have admitted to no more than smoke and allergies. Men don't cry over the most crushing of events. We certainly don't cry over the death of a baby bird.  Allergies, you know. This spring a pair of barn swallows began spending time around the house, perching on the rope light above the deck, outside the kitchen window.  My wife first, and then me, would chatter at them, try to imitate their language, through the window. When we sat on the deck we would talk our version of swallow as they flew by, and pretty soon they became comfortable, and would join us while we were sipping wine or having morning coffee. Them, perched on the rope lights, just out of the reach of the weird apes, and us down ...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Art Worlds Last Stand?

 I was pissed off that the wait for a lumbering freight at a highway 7 level crossing, west of Saskatoon, was over 15 minutes, but I was entertained by the slide show that rolled past.  I would have taken photos of the show but I wasn't prepared to enjoy an on my phone ticket from the officer in the RCMP cruiser that was waiting in the lane to my right. This blog is a fun mess, but there is no possible way I can afford a ticket just to enhance the visuals.   Photos would have been nice. There are very talented people tagging the train cars. You will see the most colourful, most graphically precise work on a car. That is the Journeyperson tagger.  And then maybe two or ten cars down, past varying levels of work and prose, you will see it in sprayed black scrawl. "Fuck" The apprentice speaks. Well, we all had to start somewhere. I give these people credit. It must take a considerable amount of hutzpah to hang out in rail yards, trying to find enough light to do your be...
Post a Comment
Read more

New Grey Hairs And Funeral Clothes

 "The last time I saw you you didn't have grey hair." As much as that statement kicked my ass, only fools argue with the blatant truth. I dressed nice. The minute I walked into the venue I regretted it. "I hope it's a quick service. I'm going to melt." I didn't melt, but my deodorant failed. It was 95 degrees F. in the shade.  It was dead still and stifling hot in the packed auditorium.  My jacket came off before I was seated. I would have taken off my pants but for funeral decorum. I dress nice out of respect. I will not wear a tie, but in my suit, shirt and hat I do look mighty fine.  I have never embarrassed myself  because of the way I dress up.  Except perhaps I did yesterday. When did it become standard practice to slob it down for funerals? Shorts? T-shirts? "Do you own a razor, there Chumley?" As I walked into the 100 degree venue a random T-shirt commented with sarcasm,  "you look good." I wanted to tell him to piss off a...
Post a Comment
Read more