by Everett Reid
Well, here it is Christmas Eve. I sat out in the lounge listening to the D.O.L's (dear old ladies) talking about Christmases past and feeling sleepy. I wheeled my way back to my apartment. It was snug and warm and still smelled of the vegetable soup I'd had for supper. A dismal little plastic tree twinkled in the window. How I miss the smell of fresh pine. It seems that Christmas doesn't smell like Christmas any more.
I stretched out on the sofa and promptly fell asleep. After a while I slowly opened my eyes and thought to myself, "I wonder if Santa Claus has been here yet," and smiled at the memory. Then I heard a soft laugh that seemed to come from my hall closet. I sat up quickly and wondered, 'what the heck was that?'
Sitting in the middle of the floor was a machine like one I had once seem in a newspaper office. It looked like a typewriter with a TV screen mounted where the paper should be.
One key was lighted up and on it was printed "Push me first," which I did. On the screen appeared a man whom I recognized as the weather man I see on nationwide TV every morning.
"Congratulations," he said. "You are the receiver of a Lemon computer. It is a time machine and while it doesn't take you anywhere bodily, you just have to push the proper buttons and it will show you pictures of whatever time you want to see. It works like your microwave. Merry Christmas."
I didn't feel in awe of the machine for it seemed natural to me that it should be there. I studied the keys that had figures on them instead of letters. Operates like a microwave I remembered being instructed, so on instinct, I pushed the numbers 1-9-0-8 and the machine clinked and buzzed and on the screen appeared a picture.
"Heh," I said, "That's papa and there's mama, and that little tow-haired boy in the floor-length flannel night gown looks just like I used to look."
In the background, a tea kettle was boiling on a wood burning stove. In the corner stood a great sweet smelling Christmas tree with a few candles lighted here and there and decorated with strings of popcorn and colored popcorn balls, with horse chesnuts tied to the limbs. On a sturdy bottom branch hung a pair of bright red hand knitted stockings, one of which had bulges in it.
"Looks like Santa's been here and brought you presents," said papa, handing me the bulging stocking. "Let's see what you got."
Quivering with excitement, I pulled out a bright red rubber ball. "Oh," I cried, staring at it in fascination. "Pretty, pretty," and I ran to mama and threw my arms around her.
"Well, there's more," said papa and I investigated another lump in the stocking, a little larger than the ball and brought it out. Wonder of wonders, it was a little cast iron elephant piggy bank. Papa shook it and something rattled. "Now I wonder what's in it," he cried. "Go get me my screwdriver and we'll find out."
I ran out into the cold frosty back boom and took a screwdriver from papa's tool box and hurried back to hand it to papa.
"Hey, you open it," he said, handing me back the tool. Trembling with excitement, I turned the bolt that held the elephant together.
"Oh," I cried in delight for there was a 10-cent piece and two large Canadian pennies all brightly polished. "It's real money," I grasped.
"And it's all yours," said mama, "and you can buy anything you want with it."
Into my mind flashed all the wonderful things I could buy at Uncle Dan's Country Corner store. A fish line on a bright red spool was something I had been wanting although I reasoned long afterwards, where would I use it since there were no lakes or rivers nearby.
"There's still something more in your stocking," said mama and I pulled out another great treasure, a large juicy orange which was a rare gift indeed for they were considered very expensive.
Then on the screen I saw myself running upstairs to my freezing bedroom, grabbing my clothes and then back down again to dress by the warmth of the wood stove.
In the background came the sound of sleigh bells and I ran to the front window, breathed on it to melt the frost and looked out. A bright red cutter drawn by a great big horse was coming up the driveway. Grandma Zilpha and her husband, whom we called Uncle Charlie, were in it.
I ran out the front door, leaving it open and yelled "grandma" and threw my arms around her. Grandma didn't respond with enthusiasm for she didn't like kids. But Uncle Charlie grabbed me and tossed me in the air, in which act he knocked his derby off.
"Just wait till you see what Santa brought you," he said in a conspiritual voice.
"Come on, come on, hurry," I urged, pulling on him.
Mama was standing in the doorway. "Boy, was you born in a barn? You never shut the door."
The visitors took a long time taking their wraps off and putting them on mama's bed. When they were ready to sit Uncle Charlie said, "Well, I guess I'll go out and talk to George."
"No, no," I cried. "The presents. Let's open the presents."
Uncle Charlie sat down, crossed his legs, slowly took out his pipe and filled it while I danced impatiently before him. He scratched a match on the seat of his pants and after lighting his pipe held it out for me to blow out. With maddeming slowness he took a couple of puffs and said, "Present, oh yes, your present. Umm, I wonder what's in that bundle on the table. I grabbed the package wrapped in butcher paper and tied with grocer string and made short work of tearing them off. It was a doll clown, clothed in cloth from grandma's dressmaking cutting table with lots of hair, some of which kept coming out.
"That's real hair," explained Uncle Charlie, who was a barber. It came from Mr. Handy's head the last time I cut his hair."
"Here's my present," said grandma as she handed me a package wrapped in candy striped paper and tied with a red ribbon. Mama said, "Let's save the ribbon and be careful of the paper," as I tore open my gift. It was another doll, dressed like a bride.
"How beautiful," breathed mama.
"Yes," said grandma, "that lace is some that I had left over from a night gown that I made for Mrs. Handy. You should have seen it for it was beautiful.
"I'd like to," chimed in Uncle Charlie and grandma gave him a dirty look.
I was terribly disappointed for I had wanted a cork gun.
A terrible squawking came from outside and Charlie went out the back door and I followed him. Papa had old Nero, our big red rooster by his feet with his wings held under his arm. He took the chicken over to the chopping block and chopped his head off with the blood spurting everywhere. Papa then threw the bird down in the snow where it fluttered around the yard. I followed it around, observing him very closely.
"How'd you like to have your head cut off like that," said Uncle Charlie. It made me shutter to think about it. We had Nero stewed with dumplings for Christmas dinner.
At this point the figures on the screen blurred and a voice said "this is the end of HBC Ten...to continue...
I opened my eyes slowly and looked at the computer but it was gone and the TV was blaring "Silent Night, Holy Night."
Huh...just a dream. But oh, for those good old days.
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