I, like a lot of us here, have had a pretty hard year. I was laid off twice, have struggled to pay my mortgage, and last week, almost to top it all off, I was robbed at gun point.
But despite the ugliness of 2008, the spirit of love & giving is alive and well. It was proven to me last night. I wanted to share this to prove it to you as well. It's the story of my Christmas Eve.
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, or a general "Merry Whatever You Celebrate" to Everyone.
Inspired by Criminal’s.
It was 5:43pm on Christmas Eve and I was leaving late. My two-day freelance gig was now three (maybe four) as my client and I couldn’t finish everything in time. I was grateful for the work, mind you – having collected unemployment for the last 2 months – but working on product demos over Christmas wasn’t exactly in my plan. Now I had 17 minutes to make it to the bank and 1 hour beyond that to buy whatever Christmas presents I could. So much for planning.
I hit the highway and weaved my way through holiday traffic. It started to rain, hard. Awesome. I made my way to the bank with a-fortunate 5 minutes to spare only to find they’d closed an un-fortunate 2 hours earlier. I guessed I’d be working with whatever cash I had in my pocket. I checked. $15. Not much. I wondered if I should brave my checkbook and see if anyone would accept that. I knew, however, that businesses that accepted checks were as rare as people who still used them. I guessed it wouldn’t hurt to try.
I hurried around the corner and into my driveway. I grabbed what I needed in the house (checkbook included) and walked down to the shopping district. I decided to get my nephew a wallet from the skate shop down the street. Certainly they’d be open, right? It was raining lightly, the air was warm, and the black pavement glistened with moisture as I walked over it. I was reminded of the last time I was out in the rain.
I arrived at the skate shop and caught the owner walking in. He begrudgingly opened the door for me. They were still open, but barely. His look was my first clue. The almost-gated doorway was my second. The third was the waft of marijuana smoke that hit me as he opened it. It was obviously closin’ time.
The cashier dude recognized me. "Hey man what’s up."
"I’m looking for a wallet for my nephew. He’s a budding skater kid so it needs to be cool."
"Okay." He piled 7 selections from the showcase onto the counter. He recommended the Volcom tri-fold or the Skater Hate Velcro. I went for the first. It was $19.99. My $15 wouldn’t cover it so I made my appeal.
"Hey, will you guys take a check? I got held up last week and they got away with everything, my credit card included. I didn’t make it to the bank in time so I don’t have anything else."
He paused to comprehend. "Naw, man. I can’t do that." Shit, I thought. He was still taking it all in. "Dang, you got robbed?"
"Yeah man, held up by gunpoint. They got away with everything. Except for shooting me." I smiled.
He chuckled and nodded. "That sucks dude. Sorry I can’t help ya out."
"That’s cool. I have a little bit of cash. Let me see what I can cover."
I reached into my pocket and he turned to the register. Apparently, in his mind, I’d said "Never mind about the check. I seem to have enough cash to cover it." So he proceeded to ring me up. I started to stop him when he says, "that’ll be $15.12."
I looked at him, a little stunned. "What?"
"$15.12 man."
My hand understood before I did. It extended my cash to him. Then my mouth said something. "I’ve only got fifteen dollars." His smile broke my spell.
"That’s cool man. We got your twelve cents."
I took the wallet off the counter, noticing the price tag again: $19.99. I’m confused. He offered a smile. Apparently he’s confused too. "You need a bag?"
"No thanks," I said, as I backed away towards the door. "You have a good night." I tried to think of something else to say. "And have a happy whatever-you-celebrate."
"Right on man, later."
I stepped outside and looked at the wallet in my hand. How weird. Under normal circumstances I would have told him he rang me up wrong. But, as I put it in my pocket and walked back out onto the damp street, I was just happy to know I’d have something for my nephew in the morning. Excitement trumped guilt, but just by a hair.
***
I crossed the street. Mom was next on my list. Officially, I didn’t have to get her anything because we all drew names this year. We were only giving – and getting – one gift each this Christmas. Times had hit us all quite hard so this was our solution. I’d drawn my aunt – who only wanted coffee – so I felt I had a little room to buy something for mom, above and beyond. Moms deserve more than we can ever give them, so I wanted to give it a try.
As I entered Criminal Records, there were two younger guys at the register and another staff member walked towards me. She was a friendly, low key black woman who I’d seen around town a handful of times. She was always quite nice. I touched her forearm and asked, "hey, do you guys take checks?" She stopped and squinted in thought.
"Ya know, I don’t think so but I’ll ask." She asked one of the guys at the front desk. He said he’d go back and check. She turned to me, "what are you looking for?"
"Midlake. The Trials of Van Occupanther. My mom heard me playing it earlier this year so I thought I’d get it for her. She loved it." She gave a faint smile and turned to look it up in the computer.
"And you want to pay with a check," she questioned, sort of surprised.
"Yeah. I was robbed last week and they took everything."
She concentrated on the computer. "Ah, that sucks."
"Yeah."
She looked up at me and did a mini double-take. "Wait, you’re the guy who was on the news last night." I gave a few nods with a twinge of embarrassment. "Held up by gunpoint over there by Pizza Hut. Five dudes. Rainy night."
"Yep. That was me." There was a pause.
"Damn man, you were lucky. I’m so sorry you had to go through that."
"Yeah, it’s cool." I smiled. "At least I’m standing here, right?"
"Quite true."
The cashier returned from the back. "Sorry man, no checks."
I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at the girl. "Ah well."
"It’s not in stock anyways. What can ya do?"
"Well, thanks for looking at least." I pulled my hoodie onto my head and thrust my hands deep into my pockets. I prepared to leave and went to thank the girl for her help.
"Are you sure there isn’t something else she’d want? Something small? Just one thing?"
I stopped, sort of stunned. "Well, um, I don’t really know." Even so, how would I pay for it?
"What else do you think she would like? Something chill, something local?"
"Barry Manilow’s latest maybe?"
"Ha." She cringed, smiling. "No... sorry, don’t carry that one either." We both glanced up at the new releases, displayed behind the counter. "What about the new Gringo Star," she asked. "They’re poppy, kinda fun. She might like that one."
"Yeah," I joked, "and it sounds like one of The Beatles so she’s sure to appreciate that." She grinned and grabbed it off the shelf. "At the very least, if she doesn’t like it, you’re sure to."
She approached her co-worker with the CD. She handed it to him and asked that he ring it up. He did, confused, and said "that’ll be $11.88." He didn’t know whether to look at me or her.
"I got it." She handed him her card.
Cashier Boy and I shared a glance. He took her card, ran it, and then handed her the receipt. She handed me the CD and said, "Merry Christmas."
I pulled my sweaty hand out of my pocket and took the gift. "Wow, thank you." I didn’t quite know what else to say.
"You’re welcome," she said, "here’s to small Christmas miracles."
***
Later that evening, I arrived at my sister’s house and met up with my family. Her house was alive and well with activity. Mom and my oldest nephew were in the kitchen, stealing bites of uncooked dough as they made cookies, dad lounged in the chair with the youngest, my sister and her husband snuggled watching television, and I grabbed the last plate of the Popeye’s chicken. I took a seat at the table and watched. I was happy to be there.
As the evening wore down and Santa, via internet, appeared to be in South America, I told mom that I wanted to give her something. I told her it couldn’t wait until tomorrow because I wanted to tell her the story of how I got it tonight. Sort of reluctant and curious, she said okay and approached me. That got everyone’s attention so they looked up to find out what was going on.
I told the story.
When I arrived at the end of it – holding back the "CD store" part to retain some element of surprise – I pulled the disc out and handed it to mom. I told her it wasn’t exactly the one I wanted to get because the one I wanted wasn’t in stock. But, I said, me and the store clerk thought maybe you’d enjoy this one instead. She took the CD, read the cover, and smiled as if anything I could have given her in that moment would have been the best gift ever.
"Oh my god. Ringo Star! He has a solo CD! I love it!"
And indeed it was.
Cross-posted at www.kyle.tv.