A Christmas Tail

by Robert C. Waggoner

A Christmas Tail

  by Robert C. Waggoner

  Copyright 2013 Robert C. Waggoner

  Short Story

  A Christmas Tail

  Robert C. Waggoner

  2013

  For a ten year old boy, words such as, naive, lacking, unemployment, without, were just some of the vocabulary adults used to inform me of my families position at that point in time. I had no idea what they were talking about. However, I soon learned the effects that particular vocabulary had upon, what used to be, a very special time of year.

  My name is Joe Smith. I know you think I'm giving you a line, but really and truly my full name is Joe Leroy Smith. I'm one of three siblings complete with mother and father. I realize that's rare these days to have a family that's not known as a broken or single parent family. My ranking is at the bottom. Which means: nobody in my family has any patience to answer my questions or teach me the ways I need to make my way in the world of today. My oldest of the three of us is my sister at sixteen years old going on twenty-four if you were to believe her.

  Her name, by the way, if you really do care, is Josephine. She used to be, in the past, a very happy girl. She was always yakking on her cell phone, chatting on the puter and every chance she had, it was off to the mall to check the boys out. Nowadays, after school she comes home and goes directly to her bedroom and locks the door. No sound comes through the ill-fitting door. Her cell phone lacks a service contract and her computer is missing completely. It disappeared one day without her knowing what happened. She threw a fit, of course, but mother told her it was part of the, and yet here was another of those words I didn’t know, 'economizing' we all had to do at this terrible time of unemployment. Every time I asked what was going on, mother or big sister, or older brother would say: ''You're too young to understand."

  I finally understood when I didn't have two dimes to rub together in my pants pockets. Mother would always give me a buck or two for spending money. I learned the other day in English class what 'past tense' truly meant. My teacher told me I was a quick learner, but like most boys my age, lazy.

  My older brother is meaner than a junk yard dog. Jeremy is fourteen and presently has a bad case of acne coming on. I learned that word acne from our old TV advertising some miracle cure for pimples. I never understood why English had so many words that mean the same thing. I'd just learn one and then someone would use another word that meant the same thing.

  Anyway, Jeremy trashed his room when the word, 'unemployment' was used to describe my father's job. Like our sister, Jeremy lost his cell phone ability to call friends. His cell found the wall and after that, found the trashcan. He and my sister would fight over computer time, but now they never speak to each other.

  My father was and is a quiet man. His name is Josh Smith. I think he's around forty or so. For the last month or more, he leaves for his job at the unemployment office. He told me quietly, that his job was to sort through the list of companies looking for job seekers. There we go again. 'Seekers'. For Christmas I'll ask for a used pocket dictionary.

  My dad would come home around lunch time. He never cooked before, but now he stumbles around the kitchen as if he was born to be a cook. His specialty is opening cans from the food bank. I never knew they kept food in a bank before; I thought that is where money was stored in a big safe. There's one thing I did learn from watching and listening to my dad cook and that is new vocabulary that mother said if I spoke those words, soap would be used to wash my dirty mouth out with.

  My mother is a good person. Her name is Janice. Her work hours are not set like my school time is. She works at a fast food place not so far from our large two stories house that, according to mother, could use a coat of paint.

  Now that you've been introduced to my family, let's get to the nuts and bolts of this story. We begin a few days before Thanksgiving. I'm not real hot about turkey, but the rest of the stuff is very good. We're on a four day holiday from school and the Saturday before Turkey Day, father comes home from the employment office smiling and happy for a change. He's got a frozen turkey in a box; complete with cranberry sauce and other cans, such as pumpkin pie filling.

  When mother comes home smelling like hamburgers, she starts crying. Seems strange that father is happy, but mother is crying because he brought home a turkey. Well, there you go again: I'm too young to understand.

  At dinner, the turkey cooked, mashed potatoes and gravy, along with cranberry sauce, some hard rolls that everyone complained about, the talk was about 'Black Friday'. While I made a volcano of my mashed spuds, then spooned some gravy into the crater, I understood that Christmas shopping would begin the next day. The idea was to be at Walmart not later than two am.

  Get real here readers. I remember when I was just a little guy, somebody died in the rush to get into the store at six am for a hot deal on a TV. I guess that is why they call it Black Friday. Black, as you know, is the color for dead people parties.

  In the past, we'd drive over to 6th Ave and buy a Christmas tree from the Boy Scouts. This usually happened about two weeks before Christmas. 6th Ave is not very far from our house on 12th Street. After school I'd walk over there and watch the finely dressed Boy Scouts standing around while the adults did the work. If I was a scout, I'd be helping with the trees.

  One day, late in the evening, with only a light hand-me-down jacket on, the scouts had a barrel fire burning. It wasn't dark yet and the fire sure looked inviting. One old man I'd seen there every day, wore a Santa Claus hat. I'd seen him looking at me every once in awhile. I was just about to return home when he waved at me to come over. I looked behind me to make sure he wasn't waving at someone else. I waved back. I went to the corner light, crossed the street and walked into a heavenly smell of fresh cut evergreen trees. Wood chips were spread on the ground. They too smelled good. "Stand by the fire and warm your hands young feller," said the toothless man with a twinkle in his eyes.

  "Thanks Mr. It was getting cold and I was about to go home when you waved at me," said Joe.

  "I've seen you almost every day after school come watch us sell trees. Do you have a tree up yet," said Tyler. [He told me to call him Tyler and no Mr. stuff]

  "Not yet Tyler. I remember coming here the last two years and my father buying a tree from the scouts. This year I'm not sure when that will happen. Mom says we're economizing. I'm not sure if that has anything to do with a Christmas tree or not."

  "Times are not what they used to be, young feller. Are sales are down and we've lowered our prices too. With two weeks to go, I hope we don't have to waste these fine trees," said Tyler.

  "I'd best go home sir. It's almost dinner time. Thanks for the fire warm up. Is it okay if I come back another time," asked Joe.

  "Sure you can. I'm here every day until eight pm."

  Joe walks into the house, throws his coat into the hall closet and walks into the kitchen wondering what that smell was assaulting his nose. Dad was cooking and some left over smoke was slowly exiting the back door. "I over cooked the beans Joe," he said.

  "I'm not so hungry anyway dad. I'll just have a mustard sandwich like last night when you burned the clam chowder. Hey dad, I was wondering when will we get our Christmas tree?"

  "Joe, I'm not sure a tree is in our budget this year. I'll check with your mother on that score. There's some bologna in the fridge to go with that mustard you're talking about. Also, there's some fresh day old bread in the sack by the back door."

  I wonder what a budget is, he thought as he fetched a loaf of bread, dug out the bologna, layered on a thick coat of mustard, put it on a plate. He sat down at the table watching his father scrape off the non-burnt beans into another pot. "Dad, how come you're cooking and not mom," Joe asked.

  "S
he's busy working and I'm in-between jobs. We all must pitch in and do our share during times of need. Also, we must stick together as a family to make sure we all stays strong," he said.

  "I met a nice old man at the Christmas tree place. He told me times were tough and that not a lot of sales this year. Are times tough dad?"

  "I'll say they are. We lost 20% of our workers at my factory that we're given layoff notice. I hope we can find a cheap tree Joe. Christmas is not Christmas without a tree."

  "Mom usually takes us shopping dad. With her working, is that job for you to do," asked Joe.

  "I guess so Joe. Near where your mother works, you probably know it too, there's a dollar store where we can go find some nice gifts. Do you want some beans son," asked dad?

  "No thanks dad, I'm going to my room and do my homework. Without cable, there's nothing much on TV," said Joe placing his plate in the sink. Joe went upstairs and all was quiet passing both his brothers and sisters rooms. He flipped the light switch and nothing happened. He tried a half dozen times and still no light. He had a small lamp next to his single bed. From a dim light coming from the street, he found his lamp and like the ceiling light, nothing. He went downstairs to report the finding to his father.

  Father, brother