The Christmas Joy Ride

by Melody Carlson

Joy set the boom box on a counter. “Did you get the tree like we planned? A big one?” Joy had sent checks and instructions ahead of time to some of the winners so they could have trees ready to decorate.

  “I did. Thank you so much for sending the check for it. I gotta say, it was not cheap. It’s out back. I’ll ask the maintenance guy to bring it in.”

  Joy pointed to a large blank wall. “I think we’ll put the faux fireplace right there with the tree over to the left of it.”

  “Sounds great.” LaShanda beamed at her. “Just tell me what to do. My boss said I can help you for an hour or so. Fortunately this is the quiet time of day.”

  Joy spotted Miranda walking down the hallway with a couple of bins, waved her into the large room, and introduced her to LaShanda.

  “I’ll go get another load,” Miranda said as she set the bins on a coffee table. “Looks like there are seven bins with ‘MM’ on them.”

  “That’s right. And then one of those cookie baskets inside the RV—the biggest one.” Joy turned back to LaShanda. “Now let’s see what’s in these bins.”

  As Joy opened the first bin, she told LaShanda that the items she’d chosen for Mansfield Manor were the oldest Christmas decorations she had. “I thought that your residents might relate better to decorations from the 1940s and ’50s. It might bring back some memories.” She extracted a set of colorful bubble lights. “These aren’t really old,” she explained as she stretched them out on the table, “they just look like it.”

  “It feels just like Christmas,” LaShanda exclaimed as they removed more and more items from the bins.

  Joy laughed. “That’s the point.”

  With Joy directing, an old set of nearly life-sized Santa and reindeer went up on the wall behind the TV. LaShanda and several curious residents went to work on the tree that the maintenance man positioned next to the cardboard faux fireplace that Miranda was taping into place. Meanwhile, Joy, with the help of a resident named Thomas, arranged an old plaster of Paris nativity scene on top of a low bookshelf. As they carefully unwrapped the pieces from tissue paper, she told him how this nativity set was one of many that she’d collected over the years. “It was always important that we had the real meaning of Christmas displayed prominently in our home,” she said as she unfurled a shepherd.

  “My wife had a set similar to this one,” Thomas reminisced. “Don’t know what became of it.”

  “This set was always special because I used it when my boys were small,” she explained. “Some of the pieces are chipped now.” She paused to examine a lamb. “And a wise man is missing, but I think if we swirl some angel hair around, no one will notice.” She handed the bag of fluffy strands to Thomas, watching as he carefully arranged it.

  “That looks lovely,” she told him.

  “It sure does.” He nodded with a reverent smile.

  The two of them stood there, admiring their work. Joy hoped that the nativity would be a blessing to the other residents as well. She wanted to remind them that Christmas was more than just glitter and garlands—but that color and sparkle were a wonderful way to celebrate the real Joy of Christmas. And before she walked away, she lifted the baby Jesus and gave it a little kiss—just like she’d always done—and laid it in the manger.

  “That’s nice,” Thomas told her with misty eyes. “Real nice.”

  “Thank you for helping,” she said.

  By 3:30 the activity room and boring reception area were glowing with color and light. Lured by the music, more residents began to trickle in, curiously examining the decorations and commenting in wonder. Joy happily greeted each person, almost as she would have welcomed a guest into her own home in years past. She wished each one a merry Christmas, then directed them to where Miranda was handing out Christmas cookies and punch. Meanwhile the Dean Martin Christmas music continued to play merrily.

  “It feels like a party already,” LaShanda commented as she helped a wheelchair-bound woman get some treats.

  “As it should.” Joy beamed at the room. Such a transformation! She hadn’t expected to be this pleased, but she was. All their hard work was well worth it. She looked around the room that was slowly getting crowded. “Where is the woman you mentioned?” she asked LaShanda. “Madge, was it?”

  LaShanda peered around, then shook her head. “She’s not here.”

  “How about if I go get her?” Joy asked.

  “Good idea.” LaShanda gave her the room number and Joy went off in search of her.

  Joy knocked quietly on the partly open door. “Madge?” she called. “May I come in?”

  A white-haired woman sat slumped in an easy chair next to the window, gazing out with a blank expression.

  Joy pulled a straight-backed chair next to Madge and sat down. “I’m Joy,” she said quietly. “I know we haven’t met, but I suspect we have some things in common.”

  Madge turned to peer curiously at Joy. “Who are you? Do you work here?”

  Joy smiled and shook her head. “I’m just visiting.” Now Joy explained about her Christmas Joy website. “I suppose some people think I’m a bit silly, starting up something like that at my age. But after my George died, well, I just felt so lost . . . I needed something to occupy my time. And since I’d always loved Christmas and had been giving people suggestions for holiday activities and recipes and decorating tips, well, it just made sense to share it in a bigger way. My neighbor Miranda knows all about computers and she helped me set up a website.” Joy laughed. “Oh, listen to me—just rambling away. And I really came here to get to know you. I heard that you would’ve been celebrating seventy years of marriage this week.” Joy reached over and squeezed Madge’s hand. “Congratulations on your anniversary!”

  Madge frowned. “But Ralph’s not here. How can I celebrate?”

  “Oh, he’s not here physically,” Joy said, “but I suspect he’s right here.” Joy tapped her chest. “My George is still here for me.”

  Madge nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”

  “And the purpose of an anniversary is to honor the day you and Ralph were wed, right?”

  “Yes . . . that’s right.”

  “So why not celebrate? Just because Ralph isn’t physically with you now shouldn’t erase any of the magic you experienced seventy years ago, should it?”

  Madge’s lips curved into a smile. “That’s true.”

  “Now, tell me about that day,” Joy insisted.

  Joy listened intently as Madge described a small family wedding that took place just as World War II was winding down. Ralph had been on leave from the navy during the two weeks prior to Christmas. “I wore a dress of creamy white satin that my mother and aunt sewed up for me in just a couple of days.” She described how the bodice and sleeves were fitted and sleek. “And the skirt had such a nice swirl to it.” She sighed.

  After about thirty minutes of reminiscing, Joy invited Madge to come see the Christmas decorations and Madge gladly agreed. As they got closer, Madge could hear the music drifting down the hallway. “Is that Dean Martin?” she asked.

  “It is.” Joy linked her arm in Madge’s.

  Madge made a happy sigh. “Now that takes me back.”

  Joy led Madge around, showing her the various decorations and explaining some of the meanings behind them. “I wish I could stay longer,” she said wistfully. “But we need to get settled before it gets dark.” She pointed to the window. “So we’ll have to move on.”

  Madge reached out her arms, gathering Joy in a long, heartfelt hug. “God bless you, Joy. I think the angels must’ve sent you here today.”

  Joy touched Madge’s cheek. “Maybe Ralph asked them to do that.”

  Madge laughed. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. That would be just like him.”

  “Have a happy anniversary this week,” Joy told her. “And have a merry Christmas too!”

  Joy found Miranda taking photos with her phone. “I thought I could post them on your website,” she explained. “I’ve got my laptop, and I can do i
t this evening.”

  “Oh, that would be delightful!” Joy clapped her hands. “See why I needed you to come with me on this trip?” They told LaShanda and a few others goodbye, then quietly exited the now bustling Mansfield Manor. As they hurried out to the RV, Joy felt a tear slide down her cheek. But it wasn’t a sad tear. It was a tear of pure joy. Christmas joy.

  4

  Miranda offered to drive to the RV park, but Joy simply waved her hand. “Not this time,” she said. “Just navigate us there with your PGS device.”

  Miranda didn’t bother correcting Joy over the GPS. It was enough that the old woman could safely drive after such a long day. It was getting dusky when they pulled up to the RV park office. Like Joy’s motor home, the little office was lit up with strings of brightly colored lights. “I got you down for space 33,” the manager told Joy as he peered curiously at her in the driver’s seat. Maybe, like Miranda, he wasn’t sure about an elderly woman driving a big motor home. “Need any help getting set up?”

  “I’d love your help,” Joy told him. “This is our first day out and it’s been awhile since I’ve hooked up the water and electric by myself.”

  “I’ll meet you down there in a few minutes.” His eyes lit up. “By the way, I like how you got your rig decorated. Real festive and fun.”

  “We’re on a Christmas Joy Ride.” Joy chuckled.

  He laughed. “Sounds like fun.”

  “Your office looks festive too,” Joy called out the open window as the RV moved forward.

  “This park doesn’t look too busy,” Miranda observed as Joy drove around the loop.

  “December’s a slow time of year for RVers. A lot of parks close for the winter.”

  Miranda called out the space numbers, noticing that some of the trailers and motor homes had strings of lights too. But none were quite as merry looking as Joy’s. “There’s 33,” Miranda announced. “Do you have to back into it?”

  “No, it’s a pull-through. But if you don’t mind getting out, you could help me get it lined up.” Joy explained how they needed to be closer on the side with the hookups. “But not too close. We don’t want to run into them.”

  Miranda hopped out and, positioning herself so that Joy could see her in the side mirror, did her best to get the RV into place. Then she stood with Joy, watching as the congenial manager, armed with a flashlight and tool-belt, uncoiled a water hose and electrical cord from a storage hold and expertly connected them to the hookups.

  “That looks pretty easy,” Miranda said as he turned on the water. “I think I can do that myself next time.”

  “You don’t want to hook up your water if the temps go below freezing,” the man told them. “But the forecast for the next couple days is unseasonably warm.” He pointed his flashlight into another part of the RV. “This is where it can get tricky though. Emptying the waste tanks. Ever done that before?”

  Joy laughed nervously. “Only once. My late husband always saw to it after that experience.”

  “Well, being this is your first day out and you’re leaving in the morning, you shouldn’t need to empty your tanks. But when the time comes—say, in a couple, three days—you might want to ask for assistance. Now you ladies have a good evening.” He tipped his head to leave.

  “Wait,” Joy called out before he could go. She turned to Miranda. “Go get him one of those cookie plates—you know the ones in the cardboard box in the dinette.”

  Miranda hurried in to retrieve one of the cookie plates that Joy had placed in the motor home that morning. Each tin Christmas plate was filled with yummy looking homemade cookies and chocolates, then wrapped in cellophane and tied with a bright red and green plaid bow. “Here you go.” Miranda gave Joy the plate.

  “Merry Christmas.” Joy handed it to the manager. “Thank you for your kind help.”

  “Well, I’ll be!” He looked down at the goodies, then shook his head. “I haven’t seen a good-looking cookie plate in ages.” He smiled at Joy. “Reminds me of the ones my wife used to make for neighbors . . . back before she passed. Thanks.”

  “Thank you!” Joy called out as he turned to leave.

  Once they got situated inside the RV, turning on lights, rearranging some things, Miranda realized that she was getting hungry. But now that the RV was all “hooked up” it wouldn’t be easy to run out to get some dinner without undoing everything. And she hadn’t noticed any restaurants within easy walking distance.

  “I could trek out to fetch us something to eat,” she offered. “I think I saw some fast-food joints about a mile or so away and I could be back by—”

  “Not necessary,” Joy said quickly. “I’ve got a casserole all ready to heat up.”

  “Seriously?” Miranda could hardly believe it when Joy pulled out an aluminum pan topped with foil. “When did you have time to do all of this? Sending your personal things to Phoenix. Packing your Christmas decorations. Making cookies. Preparing dinner too? If I looked up superwoman in the dictionary, I’m sure I’d find your picture.”

  “It’s just a matter of organization and planning. And a good freezer.” Joy winked. “I made the cookies a couple of weeks ago and froze them. Same with the meals I brought along for us.”

  “Us?” Miranda frowned. “How did you know anyone else would be with you?”

  Joy made a sheepish smile. “Wishful thinking?”

  “So how many meals did you bring?”

  “Enough for all our dinners.” She tapped the freezer section. “Some are up here, and some are already thawing.” She held out the pan. “This is easy breezy lasagna.”

  “Easy breezy lasagna?”

  “A simple recipe I concocted when my boys were young and time was precious. I don’t cook the pasta and I use tomato soup . . . and a few other easy tricks.” She held out a lighter. “Want to fire up the oven while I put my feet up?”

  After a quick explanation of how to light the gas stove, Miranda managed to get it started without setting her hair on fire. “I feel almost like a pioneer,” Miranda said proudly. “The truth is, I’ve never actually been camping.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t exactly call this camping.” Joy chuckled from her post in the nearby easy chair. Then as Miranda set the compact table and made a small salad from the veggies Joy had packed, Joy shared some of the wild camping stories from trips the Jorgenson family had taken back in the 1960s. Miranda was laughing so hard over the one about Ricky and Robbie getting sprayed by a skunk that she had to sit down.

  “You’ve really led a charmed life,” she told Joy. “I hate to admit it, but sometimes I feel a bit envious of you. Especially considering what a train wreck my life has turned into lately.”

  Joy got a thoughtful expression. “Although I wish your circumstances were different, I do believe that the good Lord knows just what we need. And I don’t believe he wants anyone to have it too easy. As for a charmed life, well, you don’t know a thing about my childhood, do you?”

  Miranda considered this. She’d been good friends with Joy for about eight years now—ever since she purchased the house next door, back before she married Jerrod the Jerk. But come to think of it, she really didn’t know much about how Joy grew up. “I know you were born in Indiana.” Miranda straightened the silverware. “And you moved to Chicago when you were seventeen, a few years after World War II ended. And I know that you were a secretary for a furniture company, the same place where George was apprenticing while he was attending Northwestern on his GI bill—and that’s how you two met.”

  “My, but you really do listen to my stories, don’t you.” Joy smiled.

  “I love your stories.” Miranda didn’t add that she wished her own stories were half as nice.

  “Well, I probably shouldn’t have let you think my life was such a bowl of cherries,” Joy spoke slowly. “But I suppose it’s because I’ve put so much of that ancient past behind me. And I’m not so sure I care to go into it at this stage of the game. But suffice it to say, my parents had more than a fair share
of problems. Mine was not a happy childhood in a happy home. My father was an alcoholic and my mother . . . well, she was not a healthy person. Anyway, I was removed from my parents’ custody when I was five. I was placed in an orphan home and since it was the Great Depression and most people were struggling just to feed their own families, I remained in that sad place until I was fourteen.”

  “Oh, my goodness. I had no idea.” Miranda tried to imagine sweet, optimistic Joy languishing in an orphanage, but could only come up with images that harkened to the musical Annie that her high school drama department had produced about twenty years ago. Dark, dank, and depressing. “I’m so sorry. That sounds very sad.”

  Joy nodded grimly. “It was no kind of a place for a child to grow up.”

  “You said you were in the orphanage until you turned fourteen—what happened after that?”

  “Well, I’d been going to church for several years by then. And I took my faith seriously. It was my lifeline. There was an older couple at my church—the Andersons. They were childless and fairly well-off and offered to take me in. It seemed a great opportunity. The idea of living in a real home and going to high school with normal kids—well, it seemed a dream come true.” She scowled and shook her head.

  “But it wasn’t?”

  “My new parents were not as they seemed. Not in the least. I learned an important lesson though. Just because someone goes to church does not make them a good person.”

  “Yeah, I agree with you on that.” Miranda didn’t point out how Jerrod had been a churchgoing guy when they’d first met.

  “The Good Book says you will know the tree by the fruit they bear. Take it from me, these people bore nasty fruit. So naturally, I couldn’t get out of that house fast enough. As soon as I had my high school diploma in hand, I took off.” Joy shuddered as if the memory alone was distasteful.

  Miranda didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry, Joy. I had no idea.”

  “No, of course you didn’t.” Joy smiled sadly. “You had a happy childhood in a normal family. How would you guess that mine had been so miserable?”