The following are two stories that I would like to share with you in an attempt to spread some holiday cheer. At the time, these two experiences did pretty much the opposite of putting me in a good holiday mood, but looking back, they're both kind of funny...
A Christmas Carol
I was in sixth grade, and I was in the starring role in the stage play version of A Christmas Carol. I memorized those lines and I practiced them and I was pretty good for a 12-year-old. The make-up was pretty good, and I guess that I looked and sounded about as close to Ebenezer Scrooge as a 12-year-old could.
On opening night, the auditorium was packed—all the dads with their camcorders out, and everyone was so excited to see the show. I remember this all very well, because there was a girl in the audience, for whom I’d had a crush on since the fourth grade. She was front and center, and I remember seeing her as I peeked through curtains before the play started, a thousand butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
On opening night, the auditorium was packed—all the dads with their camcorders out, and everyone was so excited to see the show. I remember this all very well, because there was a girl in the audience, for whom I’d had a crush on since the fourth grade. She was front and center, and I remember seeing her as I peeked through curtains before the play started, a thousand butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
All in all, I was excited to be in the spotlight, and I couldn't wait to be on stage in front of so many people. My dream was unfolding right before my eyes, and thoughts of auditioning for Spielberg were right there in the back of my mind.
During one particular scene, I was supposed to take off my pants and I had a nightshirt on underneath. The top part looked like a normal dress shirt, and when I took off my pants, the shirt was supposed to flow out and drop to the knees, effectively covering my white and tight brief underwear. I guess that they had those types of clothes back in Scrooge's day, like a nightgown for guys. During the scene, I pulled off my pants, like I’d rehearsed a hundred times. The front dropped down without any problems, but the back had been tucked into my whitie-tighties and when I turned to hang up my pants, every person and camcorder saw my undies. I couldn't understand why everyone was laughing, and I didn't get why the scene was so funny until Marley's ghost came prancing into the scene and whispered the fateful message.
Spielberg, Hollywood
Mister?
This one happened a little more recently--two years ago, to be exact. I was at the grocery store on Christmas Eve, minding my own business and getting some last minute stocking stuffers and food for the following day. This little kid comes up to me and tugs on my shirt. I looked down, and the kid is super cute, maybe 5 or 6, with big brown eyes filled with wonder. He reminded me of little Ralphie on A Christmas Story, on Christmas morning, seeing the big beautiful Christmas tree, with all those shiny presents underneath.
"Mister?" the kid asked, his voice filled with plucky innocence.
"Yes?"
"Are you Santa?" he asked.
A good 20 seconds passed in one of those very awkward silences. I looked down at the kid, and I'm not saying that I didn't want to smack him, but he sincerely wanted to know if I was Santa Claus. Now, I admit that I wasn't in the greatest shape in my life, but I certainly did not have a belly large enough to fill Santa's coat. I do have a jolly disposition, and I hadn't shaved for a day or two, but seriously, I don't know what this kid was thinking.
"No." I patted him on the head and smiled as sincerely as I could. "No, Santa doesn't look anything like me."
I pointed to a Coke bottle and said, "That's what Santa looks like."
The kid looked at the Santa so cheerily portrayed on the bottle of Coca-Cola, and then back at me. The look in his eyes indicated that he didn't see a real difference there, and with that, I said good bye and left the store. Needless to say, my New Years resolutions that year included a strict diet and an intense exercise program to lose whatever resemblance I had with jolly ol' St. Nick.
***
So, hopefully my stories were a short respite from the stress that accompanies the season. By the way, My novels are all on sale during this holiday season for .99 cents--and they've just been enrolled with Amazon's new lending program--so you don't even have to drop a buck to read them.
Merry Christmas everyone, or Happy Holidays, if that's your cup of eggnog. Either way, have a good end of the year.
