Hurray for Ali Baba Bernstein

by Johanna Hurwitz

  “Well, I don’t have to worry about that,” said Ali Baba. “And I want to see where he goes. Maybe he’s inspecting the toy shops around here or something.”

  He turned to follow the bearded man, but he did not have to go far at all.

  “Look,” said Natalie as Santa Claus entered a barbershop. “He’s going for a haircut.”

  Ali Baba and Natalie stood outside the shop and peeked through the window. They watched as the famous man got into one of the chairs. The barber put a towel around his neck and began snipping at his hair.

  “Wait till I tell the kids in my class about this,” Natalie exclaimed. “They won’t believe it!”

  They watched as the barber trimmed Santa Claus’s beard.

  “Do you think the barber knows who he is?” asked Natalie.

  “Nope,” said Ali Baba with certainty. “Grown-ups don’t even believe in Santa Claus.”

  “You believe in him, don’t you?” said Natalie. “Just because you’re two years older than me doesn’t mean you can’t believe in him.”

  “It’s different with me,” Ali Baba reminded Natalie. “Don’t forget that I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

  “You mean, you don’t get any presents at all?” asked Natalie, shocked.

  “Sure I get presents. I get birthday presents and Hanukkah presents and presents from my grandparents just because they love me, even if there isn’t a holiday. Sometimes my father brings something home for me because he saw it in a store and he thought I would like it and he didn’t want to wait until it was my birthday. Last week my mother bought me a new book that she saw on sale in a bookstore because she knew I’d read other books by the same writer. I get loads of presents.”

  “But no Christmas presents from Santa Claus, right?” asked Natalie. “Why don’t you ask him about it when he comes out?” she suggested.

  “You mean, you think I should ask Santa Claus why Jewish kids don’t get Christmas presents like you do?”

  Natalie nodded her head. “I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t get anything. You should ask him about it.”

  “That’s a good idea. I will,” said Ali Baba. “I bet the other Jewish kids at school will want to know about it, too.”

  He spoke with confidence. But as he watched the barber remove the towel from around Santa Claus’s neck and shake out all the little white hairs, he began to feel a bit nervous. If he made Santa Claus angry, then he certainly would never get any gifts from him in the future. Of course, he would be no worse off than he was now.

  Ali Baba and Natalie watched as Santa Claus put on his heavy coat and paid the barber. They stepped aside as the door opened and Santa Claus came back out into the street.

  It was unusual for Ali Baba to be at a loss for words. Luckily, as he stood trying to think of how to address him, Natalie spoke up.

  “Hi!” she said, grinning up at Santa Claus.

  “Hi,” the man responded.

  “We know who you are,” she said proudly. “We guessed it.”

  “You did?” said Santa Claus, pretending to be surprised. “How were you able to do that?”

  “It’s the way you look,” said Ali Baba, feeling more confident now that the ice was broken and conversation had begun. “No disguise can hide who you really are.”

  “Well, you won’t tell anyone, will you?” asked the man.

  “Can’t I tell my friends at school that I saw you?” begged Natalie.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Ali Baba told her. “No one will believe you anyhow. Don’t you think I’m right?” he asked Santa Claus.

  “Listen, kids,” said the man. “I hate to say this, but haven’t you been taught by your parents or by your teachers that you should never speak to strangers?”

  “Of course,” said Ali Baba. “But we wouldn’t exactly call you a stranger. Just about every kid in the world knows who you are.

  “Really? And who is that?” asked the man.

  “Do you want us to say your name out loud?” asked Ali Baba. “Someone might overhear us.”

  “That’s true,” the man agreed. He smiled at Ali Baba and Natalie. “Listen,” he said, “I was just about to have a cup of coffee. Do you want to join me?”

  “Do we have to have coffee?” asked Natalie. “I’m too little to drink coffee.”

  “Me too,” Ali Baba admitted reluctantly. “But we could get hot chocolate or something else.”

  “Good thinking,” said the man as they entered the luncheonette. He noticed the backpacks that both Ali Baba and Natalie were wearing. “Were you on your way home from school just now?” he asked them.

  “Yep. We noticed you the minute we got off the bus,” said Ali Baba. “I recognized you first,” he said, bragging.

  “Here,” said the man, reaching into his pocket and handing them each a quarter. “Go phone your parents and tell them where you are. I don’t want them to be worrying about you.”

  Ali Baba saw the wisdom in this suggestion. He went to the phone booth with Natalie and called his mother.

  “I’m going to be a little bit late today,” he said importantly. “I stopped to have hot chocolate with Natalie Gomez.”

  He didn’t mention the presence of Santa Claus. He knew his mother would not believe him anyhow. Then Ali Baba dialed the phone number that Natalie recited for him. She was too short to reach the phone. He handed her the telephone receiver. Like Ali Baba before her, she reported that she was having hot chocolate at the luncheonette, but she did not mention Santa Claus.

  “Okay. I’ll come right home when I’m done,” she promised her mother.

  Then they went back to the counter where Santa Claus was waiting for them. A cup of coffee and two hot chocolates were waiting on the red Formica countertop.

  The man removed a pen from his pocket. He handed it to Ali Baba and slid a paper napkin over to him, too. “Here,” he said, “write down who you think I am.”

  Ali Baba nodded. “Smart,” he said admiringly. “That way nobody can hear us.” It was a trick he had seen on television. It wasn’t easy to write on the napkin without tearing the soft paper, but Ali Baba managed to write out “Santa Claus.”

  The man began to laugh. The sound wasn’t exactly the jolly “ho ho ho” that Ali Baba and Natalie had heard on TV and in the movies, but they realized that he had to disguise his true manner when he was out in public this way.

  “So you guessed that was who I am?” the man said.

  “Sure. It was easy. You’re a dead giveaway. If you want my advice, you should shave your beard when you’re going traveling. I’m surprised that hundreds of people haven’t already stopped you,” said Ali Baba.

  “If I shaved off my beard, it wouldn’t grow back in time for Christmas,” argued Santa Claus.

  “You could wear a fake one, like all the fake Santa Clauses do. No one would know the difference,” Ali Baba suggested.

  “He has an important question to ask you,” Natalie said, looking up from her hot chocolate. There was a mustache of dark brown chocolate across the top of her lip.

  “What is it?” Santa Claus asked Ali Baba.

  Ali Baba blushed a deep red. He wanted to ask his question, but he didn’t want to seem rude.

  “Go on,” said Natalie, giving Ali Baba a nudge. “This may be your only chance.”

  “Well, it’s like this,” said Ali Baba. “You see, I’m Jewish. And I wondered if you ever thought about bringing presents to Jewish kids on Christmas.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair otherwise,” said Natalie.

  “Have you asked your parents about this?” asked Santa Claus.

  “Sure. They explained that Christmas is a Christian holiday. And I can understand that part. But still, I thought that I should ask you now that I’ve met you in person. Don’t you ever have any leftover things?”

  “Tell me,” said Santa Claus, “do you ever get any other kinds of presents instead of Christmas ones?”

  “Oh sure,” said Ali Baba. And then he listed
for Santa Claus, just as he had earlier for Natalie, all the types of gifts that he received over the year.

  “Well, young man, it certainly doesn’t sound as if you’re deprived. So I think you’ll understand when I say that after all the Christmas presents are distributed each year, it always seems important to give those left over to children who wouldn’t get anything from anyone else.”

  “You mean, like orphans?” asked Ali Baba.

  “That’s right. Orphans or children in hospitals. Children who need presents because they don’t have the things you already have. I don’t mean things like games and toys, but things like loving parents and good health and a promising future ahead of you. Those are the most important things in the world,” Santa Claus explained. “And they aren’t the kind of things that I’m able to give away.” He paused for a moment. “I wish I could,” he said.

  “But you bring presents to Natalie,” said Ali Baba. “She has loving parents and good health.” He didn’t want to seem greedy, but he did want to clarify the situation once and for all.

  “It’s like this,” said Santa Claus, looking a little uncomfortable. “My assignment is to distribute presents to the children who celebrate Christmas. I was assured that you would get other gifts from other sources. And from what you tell me, that’s exactly how it is. So, in the end, you both have a happy holiday season.” He swallowed the last of his coffee. “You understand, don’t you?”

  Ali Baba nodded his head. “Do you have any message for other kids that you want us to pass along?” he asked.

  “We’re not supposed to say we met him,” Natalie reminded Ali Baba.

  “Right,” the man agreed. “But you can just set a good example.” He thought for a moment. “By being friends, by being nice to others, by caring.”

  “Sam Cooperman!” a voice called out. “What a surprise to see you here!”

  A woman entering the luncheonette came over to them and began talking to Santa Claus. “I was going to phone you,” she said. “Paul and I wanted to invite you over for dinner.” She looked at Ali Baba and Natalie. “My goodness, are these your grandchildren?” she asked.

  “These are some young friends of mine,” Santa Claus explained.

  “We have to go now,” said Ali Baba, getting off his stool. He pulled at Natalie, who was busy tearing her paper napkin into strips. Ali Baba watched as Santa Claus held out his hand and took Natalie’s small hand in his. “In case I don’t get a chance to see you again,” he said, “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” said Natalie. She stood still for a second, then impulsively put her arms around Santa Claus and gave him a kiss.

  Ali Baba didn’t plan to kiss Santa Claus. But he held out his hand to shake with him, man to man. “It was very nice meeting you,” he said politely.

  “It was my pleasure,” said Santa Claus.

  “And thank you very much for the hot chocolate,” Ali Baba remembered to add at the last minute.

  Santa Claus gestured to Ali Baba to come closer. He leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Ali Baba nodded his head and grinned.

  The woman sat down on the stool that Natalie had vacated. “So tell me, what are you doing now?”

  Ali Baba stood for a minute listening.

  “When I finish my coffee, I’m going to the barbershop,” Santa Claus told his friend.

  Ali Baba was just about to protest that he had just come from the barbershop when Santa Claus made another statement. “I’ve decided that it’s time to shave off my beard,” he said.

  “For goodness sake. After all these years, why are you going to do that?” asked the woman.

  “Too many people seem to recognize me these days,” he said. And at that moment both Ali Baba and Natalie Gomez noticed the famous twinkle in Santa Claus’s eyes.

  “Did you hear that woman call him Sam Cooperman?” said Natalie all of a sudden as they walked along the street. “Maybe he wasn’t Santa Claus after all.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Ali Baba. “He has to have an alias, doesn’t he? And he even kept the right initials, S. C. Believe me, we just had hot chocolate with Santa Claus.”

  “Too bad we can’t tell anyone about it.” Natalie sighed, convinced again.

  “At least we were there together,” said Ali Baba. “You can always talk about it with me. Or I can talk about it with you.”

  “What did he whisper to you?” Natalie asked. “Is it a secret?”

  “I can tell you,” said Ali Baba. “He said, ‘Happy Hanukkah.’ ”

  5. ALI BABA ON HIS OWN

  When Ali Baba Bernstein was nine years, seven months, and twenty-four days old, he had a runny nose and a tickle in his throat. It was not a serious illness, but since it was a cold, damp day outside, Mrs. Bernstein felt strongly that her son should not go to school.

  “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” she reminded him.

  “I’d like a pound of salami and an ounce of mustard,” said Ali Baba. He was not very sick at all. He rather thought it would be fun to stay home on this ordinary Thursday. His teacher, Ms. Melrose, had been absent for the past two days herself, and Ali Baba didn’t like the teacher who had been called in to substitute.

  “I don’t have any salami, but you can have a frankfurter for lunch,” offered his mother.

  “It’s too early to be talking about lunch,” said Mr. Bernstein as he finished his breakfast before leaving for work. “Drink a lot of liquids,” he instructed his son. “Tea with lemon and honey is good when you have a cold.”

  After Mr. Bernstein left for his office, Ali Baba’s mother went to the phone. “I’m going to ask Grandma to come and stay with you for a couple of hours,” she explained to her son. “Today is the day I’m scheduled to meet with the District Supervisor of the Board of Education. The Parent Teacher Association has been trying to set up this meeting for weeks, and I don’t want to miss it.”

  Ali Baba nodded. His mother was on the Executive Board of the PTA, and next year she was going to be the group’s president. Unfortunately it turned out that Ali Baba and Ms. Melrose were not the only people who were ill that day. Both of Ali Baba’s grandparents seemed to have colds, too.

  Whenever his parents went out at night, Elliot, a high-school student who lived in their building, stayed with Ali Baba. But on a Thursday morning Elliot was off at school. “There must be someone who can stay with you,” said Mrs. Bernstein as she turned the pages in her address book.

  “I can stay by myself. I’m not a baby anymore,” protested Ali Baba between sneezes. He liked the idea of being in charge of himself like a grown-up.

  Mrs. Bernstein was not convinced. But she couldn’t find a substitute baby-sitter, and she didn’t want to miss her meeting.

  “All right,” she agreed at last, reluctantly. “I won’t really be gone very long — two hours at the most.”

  “Hey,” protested Ali Baba, “I’m almost ten years old. I can be on my own without any problem. I’m not a baby.”

  Mrs. Bernstein showed Ali Baba where the package of frankfurters was in the refrigerator. “Just put one in a pot and cover it with water,” she instructed him. “When the water boils, you’ll know the frankfurter is ready.”

  “Sure,” said Ali Baba. He was lucky that they had an electric stove. His friend Roger could never do any cooking unless his parents were around to watch, because they had a gas stove, and so there was a real flame under the cooking pots. They thought a real flame was dangerous. Ali Baba knew his parents would think so, too.

  “I’ll phone Mr. Salmon and tell him that you’re here on your own,” said Mrs. Bernstein. “You can call him if you need anything.” Ali Baba had gone running in the park quite regularly with Mr. Salmon, and the two had become good friends. He was almost as proud as his neighbor at all the weight the man had lost recently. But still, he knew he wouldn’t phone him today. He liked the idea of taking care of himself.

  After his mother left, Ali Baba went to his bedroom an
d sat down on his bed. He was going to read his library book, but as he sat there looking around, he got an idea. His bedroom was a boring place. His bed had been against the same wall for as long as he could remember. It was across from his bookcase and a chest of drawers. Ali Baba thought he would like to rearrange the furniture. Wouldn’t his mother be surprised when she came home and found he had shifted all the furniture!

  Ali Baba got off the bed and began to move it across the room. It wasn’t too heavy, so he was able to push it. But when he got it partway across the room, he realized that the bookcase and the chest of drawers were in the way. He saw at once that he couldn’t move the bookcase with all the books on it. So he began taking books off the shelves. The bottom shelf had several big, flat picture books from when he was little. He sat on the floor and looked at them. Then he removed the other books and put them on the floor, too.

  When all the books were off the bookcase, Ali Baba moved it across the room. He sneezed several times as he was carrying the case across the room, but at last he succeeded in placing it where the bed had been before. The bed was still in the middle of the room because the chest of drawers was blocking it from the new location that Ali Baba planned for it.

  He had to remove all the drawers from the chest before he could attempt to move it. All these efforts were making him very hot and thirsty. He remembered that his father had told him to drink a lot of liquids. So he went into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. There was a container of orange juice, but as he reached for it, Ali Baba noticed the bottle of chocolate syrup. Chocolate milk would taste really great just now.

  Ali Baba removed both the bottle of chocolate syrup and the container of milk from the refrigerator. He took a glass from the cupboard and poured about an inch of syrup into the glass. The thick, dark brown syrup looked yummy. He decided to pour just a little more syrup into the glass to make the milk extra chocolaty. It occurred to Ali Baba that a whole glass of chocolate syrup would be liquid and would be good for him. So Ali Baba kept filling the glass with syrup and then lifted it to his lips. He knew his mother would never approve, but she didn’t know what was really good.