A Tale of Two Christmases

A Tale of Two Christmases: Being an Ironic and Satiric Tale of Christian Life

Or No Room in the Inn: Being an Ironic and Satiric Tale of Christian Life



Number of words: 5244



Aunt walked around her dining room. She ran her eyes lovingly over the china and the sterling silver. Each place was perfectly uniform. The napkins were folded into the shape of blossoming flours. The candles were perfectly straight. The new wicks had been lit and immediately blown out so the newness was gone. The centerpiece was suitably elegant without crude overstatement. Each setting was identified by a carefully written place card in Spenserian hand. Here was the state senator. There was the mayor. Further down was the senior vestryman from the church. Last of all, next to her husband, was the wealthiest man in the county.

"I shall set the standard for fine and elegant dining in the church and the town for a dozen years," she said to herself. "The other women will be green with envy."

She smiled a superior smile.

Uncle walked in and looked around the room.

"It is beautiful, wife. I know that you will make the other wives despair. It was a good investment to get the sterling. The Rich Man is used to such luxury. If we make a good impression I will ask him to join the vestry. He will be a great asset since he does like to give large gifts."

She smiled and nodded.

"It does no harm that he will partner with me in the new restaurant," he continued. "Yes, he will be a powerful friend and will contribute to both my church and my business."

"His mistress will cause no problem?" she asked.

"Not really. They are both discreet. I am sure that no one knows of the love nest in the next town. She understands her place and how lucky she is to have him. He has enough to keep her happy and pay her off well when he is through. His wife might suspect, but she will say nothing. She likes her houses too much."

"Then we are ready," she said.

The phone rang.

~~~

The road through the desert stretched out before their rented car through the late December gloom like a great, gray snake.

"We'll never make it to your folks' house," said the Wife.

The Marine grunted and grit his teeth.

"You know I'm right," she continued.

He looked at his watch and sighed.

"Yes, you're right. I should have paid more attention to the miles when we planned the trip. And you don't have to say it. I shouldn't have spent so much time at the gamming table in Las Vegas."

The Wife smiled.

"There is a town a few miles ahead. There must be a land line there and we can call my Uncle and Aunt. They'll put us up for the night."

"I hate calling at the last minute," he said. "It's rude."

"Yes it is, but we're living on an E-5's pay and you aren't deployed so we don't have a lot of money."

He sighed again.

Ten minutes later they entered a small desert town where all was closed. The gas station, the Chick Filet, the Seven-Eleven. Outside the gas station was an old pay phone booth. He pulled in.

"I'll call. He's my uncle, after all."

~~~

"Hello?" said Uncle cautiously. Who in the world would be calling Christmas Eve?" he thought.  "Only someone looking for money, and he only gave when he could get credit for it," he repeated his lifelong rule to himself.

"Hi Uncle, it's me! Your niece." She tried to sound cheerful.

"Oh, hello. Merry Christmas. I guess you're glad to be back at the Marine's house."

"Well, Uncle, we have a little problem."

He listened to her.

"Just a moment. I have to speak to Aunt."

"So what does SHE want? Has she messed something up again?"

Uncle covered the mouthpiece of the fashionable phone.

"Of course. They got themselves confused and they're fairly close. They want to crash here as they put it." He snorted, laughed and made a sour face . "We really should let them. They are relations after all."

"NO! I have set a perfect tablescape. I have no room for them. I would have to call the calligrapher and get two more name cards! But who would I put them next to? The mayor? The Senator? Should I move my daughter away from the Senator's son? It is ridiculous. They made their own beds, let them lie in them."

"But dear," Uncle began.

She gave him her iciest look.

"Under no circumstances will I permit them in my house. How could they even ask at this late date? I wouldn't want them at all, but I would take them in if I had warning. Give them money and send them somewhere. Somewhere out of town, because they might decide to drop in on us if they were close. Wouldn't that be great? Her with her homemade presents!"

Uncle looked at her. He knew that look. It promised the silent treatment, no dinner, and no bedding for a long time.

"I'll send them to the Sagebrush Inn. It's only a couple of hours from here, but it's on their way east."

~~~

She hung up.

"Well?" asked the Marine.

"They're having important company and they don't want us disturbing their tablescape."

He stared at her.

"They said that to you?"

"No, I heard though Uncle tried to cover the mouthpiece. It's just as well."

She stifled a sob. He put his arms around her and she dissolved in tears. He held her until she settled down.

"They offered to pay for a room in a motel a couple of hours further on. I said no. I knew you wouldn't accept that kind of charity."

"You got that right!" he snarled.

They sat in silence. He struggled with rage.

"I had no idea they thought that of me." She said quietly and desperately.

He didn't ask for details. His knuckles whitened on the wheel.

"Well, we'll go on and find someplace we can afford. It's late Christmas Eve, but some place will be open. We'll just stick to the map and go. We've got a full tank of gas and some food bars and a couple of MRE's in the back. We won't starve," he said as cheerfully as he could.

He started the car.

She got out the map and found their location.

"It looks like we take the right fork out of town. The road leads through the desert and the mountains for some twenty miles before another town. That's not too bad."

She wiped a tear away and smiled at her husband. His face was set and his eyes were hard. "I had better keep him away from Uncle and Aunt for a while. I expect that's the face a terrorist sees before. . ."

She smiled through her tears. "I do love you so much."

His face softened. "I love you too." He pulled out onto the highway.

~~~

They had driven about an hour and the road was a black tunnel through everlasting darkness when they saw a light. He slowed. An old man in ragged clothes was walking slowly along the side of the road. He held a hiking staff and had a small light attached to its head. The Marine slowed and stopped next to him. She rolled down her window.

"Hello!" He said.

The Old Man looked at him. He was clearly ancient. His face was thin and deeply wrinkled. He wore an old parka that was held together by many patches. His white hair was covered by a battered cowboy hat tied in place with a blue bandana. His boots were sturdy and he moved slowly, but with grace.

"Hello, yourselves, youngins," he said and smiled. He was missing a couple of teeth on the right side of his mouth.

"It's a cold night for a walk," said the Marine.

"The hawk is out for sure," he answered.

"We seem to be going in the same direction. Could I offer you a lift?"

"Yes, please. Ride with us. It is so cold. You must be freezing," said Wife.

"Well, kind of you to offer," he said. He cocked his head and examined them carefully. His eyes were a deep, luminous blue. "I believe I'll accept." He smiled again.

"I'm just over the next ridge," he said pointing into the darkness as if it were clear as day.

The Marine smiled and drove on.

~~~

"You headed somewhere?" he asked in a few minutes.

"Just to a motel somewhere ahead. Near, Dry Springs. The Sagebrush Inn. My Uncle sent us there," she said trying to keep her voice level.

"That so. Hmmm. I guess you got turned around some. You're a good way from Dry Springs. And maybe your Uncle didn't mention that the Sagebrush is closed for Christmas and New Year's Day."

She gasped.

"Guess he didn't, said the Old Man.

"We'll do OK," said the Marine fiercely. "We have some MRE's and lots of gas."

"I'm sure you do," said the Old Man with a smile. "Never yet met a Marine or any infantryman who didn't have a stash of supplies. C-rations in my day. Canned mostly, but not bad when you dumped the salt, pepper and sugar packets in them. Though the peanut butter was really good when you lucked out and got it." He chuckled to himself as he remembered.

"You a vet?"

"I am. Airborne infantry. 82nd, to be exact." He paused and they felt his bright blue eyes evaluating.

"You know, you could do worse than share Christmas with us. We're simple folk, so it won't be like your Aunt's great tablescape, but it will be right good food, if I do say so myself. And it's not just because the Old Woman prides herself on her holiday meals."

They looked at each other.

"Yes, lets," she said.

"Sir, thank you so much. We accept, if you're sure it will be no hardship. We'll bring in our food to share."

"It will be no hardship. Old Woman makes enough for an army. You know Chaucer?"

They shook their heads.

"Well, we're like the Franklin 'it sneweth in his huse bothe mete and drinke.' There will be plenty, and we could use the company."

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

"There, on the right. Take that dirt road. We're a mile and a half from the highway. It's a good road, dirt though it is. You'll not get stuck."

The Marine turned right.

~~~



Ten minutes later they drove through a weathered gate in an ancient barbed wire fence toward a huddle of buildings. When they got closer they saw the lights in the windows and at the doors. The "house" if it could be called a house, began with a barn at the right end that was connected by a covered breezeway to a one story shed, which in turn connected to a wide, two story log cabin which had a second two story store on its left.

"This is home," said Old Man. "Come in and welcome."

They followed him up to the main door in the cabin. It was lit by an oil lamp that had been nailed to the door frame. He threw the unlocked door open, and strode through like the paterfamilias returning home.

"Hello the house!" he shouted.

He was greeted by a chorus of cries of welcome and two large dogs who looked for all the world like they were more than half wolf or coyote. People came running from all directions to greet him.

His wife was as old as he and just as gray and wrinkled, though she had all her teeth and no beard. Her hair was pulled back into a long pony tail at the nape of her neck. She was chubby as he was lean, but though she was small, she conveyed an aura of strength and competence.

"Well, husband, whom have you brought?" she asked in a very cultured voice.

"This is Marine and Wife. They offered me a lift and since they went out of their way to drop me off, I invited them, if the gruel can be thinned out enough," he said with a smile.

"Welcome! Welcome! We are delighted to have you join our simple Christmas supper. It is a great thing to have guests, and stranger guests at that. Though you will have to work for your supper. No one lives here who doesn't do their best to help."

Marine stepped forward. "What can I do?"

"I'll leave you to Old Man and Wounded Warrior. Old Man will teach you how to skirt work, but I know his tricks." She wagged her finger at him. "Gruel indeed! Come Wife, we will get you settled and useful."

~~~

As she walked through the dining room, Wife saw a long ranch-house table made by setting three mismatched tables together. They were covered with a plain, unbleached cloth. Each table had lit candles of different heights and sized supported by brass, wooden, silver and pottery candle sticks. No place setting was the same.

A younger woman was making space for two more. She smiled shyly at Wife. She was thin to the point of malnutrition. Her long dark hair was lifeless and uncut, though it looked freshly washed. She had a number of violent tattoos on neck and her forearms which were also scarred with old needle marks. She wore a peasant blouse and skirt in muted yellows and reds.

"We're glad for the company," she said and actually dipped in a curtsey like a serving maid of a hundred years ago.

Wife's mouth gapped open. The woman's eyes were dark gray and filled with old and continuing pain. Wife felt her heart open. "I'm so glad to be here. Show me what to do." She smiled from the depths of her soul.

"I am Damaged Woman. I have been in trouble. You might want to know, you ought to know that," she said in a rush of confession.

"No need to tell me about your past life. I have one too. Show me how I can help."

"The dishes are there in the sideboard. Pick any that are more or less like the others. Silver is in the right door. Cups are in the cupboard." She giggled at her joke.

The kitchen door swung open and in walked a young girl about twelve or so. She wore a smock like a Russian peasant and matching boots and trousers. Her brown hair was cut very short and she wore thick glasses. She had a round face. The left side of her face was pretty, but the right side looked like a sculpture had run his hand down the face and pushed all the features down. She limped as she walked and twitched almost like she had Parkinson's disease. She carried two bowls of fruit and carefully placed them on the first and second tables. She looked at Wife with questions in her eyes.

"This is my daughter, we call her Special," said Damaged Woman.

"Hello Special. I'm Wife. Marine and I are guests in your home tonight. Thank you for having us."

Special giggled and scampered back into the kitchen.

"She was hurt by my drugs. She has brain damage and she's had a stroke. She can barely talk." Damaged Woman looked at Wife waiting for the condemnation. Her brown eyes filled with grief and regret.

"I'm so sorry. Sorry for you both. I don't know how I would live with such pain." Tears filled her eyes.

"You get used to it. And you do all you can to make it up to her, or fix it, even though you know you can never give her what any baby, any child deserves. And you mourn, and you ask God to forgive you."

"I'm sure he has," said Wife. "Isn't that the reason we celebrate? God sent his son into the world to save sinners. All of us qualify and all we have to do is ask."

Damaged Woman looked at her strangely. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. We all need the Christ."

"We we'd better get to work before Old Wife comes out and finds us talking. I'm not sure even God could help us then," she laughed.

Old Wife smiled from the doorway into the kitchen and returned to her domain.

~~~

Old Man looked at Marine. "Lad we'd better get your gear from your car. I think you'll enjoy the little house between the cabin and the barn."

They got their luggage and walked across the cold desert to the little house, and Old Man called it. The door was not locked. They went in to find a small, cozy sitting room all in calico and blue. A Franklin stove warmed the place.

"That door leads to the barn. You can lock it for privacy when you and Wife go to bed. There are only beasts in the barn, but no one needs to disturb you to care for them. This door is the bedroom. There's a bath attached. Why don't you leave your bags in there?"

The bedroom was twice as big as the sitting room. It was very romantic, lots of flowers and feminine things about. There was a low bench just the right size to hold their suit cases. The bathroom had a two person tub and a shower. Lavender scented towels hung around old fashioned rods.

"Wow! Wife will love this!" Said Marine. "We had our honeymoon in a place like this. A B and B near Annapolis. Lavender too. Wow! I can't believe it. She'll love this."

He looked Old Man in the eyes.

"I cannot thank you enough, but may I pay you something?"

"Ha!" Old Man snorted. "Do you have any idea what Old Woman would do to me if I even suggested we make you youngins pay? Any day of the year she'd have a fit. On Christmas? To charge travelers?" He snorted again. "Besides, you really can't afford it. You haven't told her, but you have barely enough to make it to your folks' home. We'll keep you overnight, and send you on your way with lots of leftovers and a full tank of gas."

Marine was speechless.

Old Man pulled out an old-fashioned cowboy's bandana that used to be blue but was now a dull gray, and blew his nose.

"Let's get some wood in before she notices the boxes are low."

~~~

They brought in a load of wood in an old wagon and stacked it in a huge box by the back door of the cabin. A man in a wheelchair rolled up and filled his lap. He was a tall man, broad shouldered, young and very fit, but he was missing his left leg.

"Marine, this is Wounded Warrior. He's a guest too," said Old Man introducing them.

"Hoorah, Marine. I was a soldier once. Got myself blown up in Iraq. Ever been there?" he asked.

"Not Iraq but I did a six-month tour Nahr-e Saraj. It's a bad place."

"So I've heard. What did you do?"

"I'm a grunt. A squad leader. Pretty straightforward stuff."

Wounded Warrior nodded. "War sucks."

"It sure does. But somebody's got to fight them," said Marine.

"I wish to hell that we didn't," was Wounded Warrior's answer. He stared into the distance.

"Amen to that," added Old Man. "But we will have war until the Christ returns and all is set right. Until then the light and truth must be protected by those willing to put their lives on the line. And some of them will die and more will be wounded. The wounds, physical and emotional, are honorable sacrifices."

"Easy for you to say," said Wounded Warrior crossly. "I'm in . . . Well, never mind."

"I understand war service and wounds," said Old Man seriously. "Believe me I do." His eyes stared off into some dark and painful memory. "And I understand pain. Those who run toward the gun fire or into the burning building pay a price. Recognition and gratitude, when it is given, helps. But it is often not given. In fact, the cowardly and the ignorant too frequently 'jest at scars, having never known the wounds' as Shakespeare wrote. Yet," he paused, "yet we are better for our service and sacrifice and our world is better for our service and sacrifice though war is a great evil. We celebrate the Christ's birth who will, one day, set all to right. He will return with justice in one hand and mercy in another. On that thought, I believe a spirituous beverage is in order." He laughed, patted them both on the shoulder, and went to a hutch.

He took down three bottles. "I fear I only have single malt whiskeys, will they do?"

Wounded Warrior smiled. "Yes, Old Man, they will do famously."

Marine shook his head. "I've never had such a thing," he said.

"Oh my, now you've done it," said Wounded Warrior. "Old Man loves a newbie. Get him to pour before he starts the discourse. Otherwise we'll die of thirst."

Old Man snorted. "Then it will be Glenlivet 18 for Marine, while you and I will share the Lagavulin 16."

He set out three glasses and poured about an inch into each. He added a splash of water and swirled them around. He handed them to his fellow warriors.

"To our fallen comrades, those we know and those don't. May their memories be always honored and may God have mercy on their souls," toasted Old Man.

They lifted their glasses, clinked them together, and sipped.

Marine's eyes widened. "This is marvelous!"

"Supper's ready!" came Old Woman's voice into their conversation.

"Let's eat," said Old Man.

~~~

Marine and Wife remembered later that the food was simple, frontier food. It would have been recognized by Americans two hundred years ago. There was plenty. Old Man gave thanks and prayed for mercy and blessing and love on all their lives. They ate, shared stories and jokes and joyously celebrated the greatest birth. After dinner they pitched in to stack the dishes in the kitchen. Old Woman would not hear of washing up until the morning.

Old Man brought out a guitar and they sang Christmas hymns. Old Woman had a breathtakingly lovely voice as did Special. Wounded Warrior played a wooden recorder. The fires burned low and they grew quiet and sleepy.

"I think it's time for bed," said Old Man. "Off you go."

Everyone called "Good night," and "God bless," and headed toward their rooms. Old Man took a lantern and led Marine and Wife to the lavender scented bedroom. Old Woman walked with Wife.

At the door he leaned close to Marine. "Show her how much you love her," he said quietly with a wink. "You have all night. No need to rush."

Old Woman walked arm in arm with Wife.

"Show him how much you love him," she whispered. "You have all night. No need to rush."

The young couple went into the room and closed the door.

"Well done," My Lady," said Old Man and put his arm around his wife's shoulder. It was a timeless gesture made personal by years of life and love.

"Thank you, Sir," she answered with a smile. "Do you think they will make the baby they are yearning for?"

"You know such things better than I, woman. But if your smug look is any indication I expect you have done all you can to encourage that outcome. Now if you could just encourage us a wee bit."

She poked him in the ribs. "You old fool. I had better get you to bed before you embarrass me."

They walked upstairs hand in hand like young lovers.

~~~

Aunt surveyed her table for the last time. The first guest was arriving. She nodded in satisfaction. "This will make quite a splash in the town," she said to herself. "Powerful and wealthy folk are coming. My children will know their children. My husband will make good connections. I have finally made up for marrying beneath my status. It is good to be the mistress of all this."

A movement caught her eye. A serving girl was bringing the hors d'oeuvres when the first guest came in the foyer. Aunt's eyes snapped.

"You! Girl! What do you mean by coming in now? This should have been done. You lazy slut. To the kitchen with you. I'll be there in a minute," she hissed.

In the kitchen the girl stood miserably in a corner out of the bustle. She twisted her apron around her hands. Her eyes were red with tears.

"Caterer, get over here," snapped Aunt. "I want this trash out of my house! Now! She almost spoiled my first guest's view of my tablescape! Fire her!"

"Please, Mistress, please. I'm so, so sorry. I really need the work. I'm all alone," she begged and started sobbing.

"Ha! Save your tears for the men who are moved by them. You are a low-class slut. You are lucky to see a house like this. So you take your opportunity and waste it by being slow. Get out!"

The girl left.

"See to it," Aunt said to Caterer.

Caterer nodded.

Aunt swept out of the kitchen to greet her next guest.

At the back door Caterer found the girl shivering. "Go get in the van. Make yourself useful there. You aren't fired. She's a bitch. A spoiled, selfish, self-centered, narcissistic bitch! You did nothing wrong. Help the van crew. It'll be OK. You have another party to serve tomorrow, so don't cry so much that your eyes will be red then."

The girl smiled and scampered to the van.

Caterer walked slowly back into the kitchen. The words of the morning lesson echoed in her mind. "What you have done to the least of these, you have done to me."



Author's Note:

The characters are, of course, fictional, almost allegorical figures. The plot is old and out of date and unneeded by today's Christians. No one in the enlightened evangelical world of the US in the twenty something century would do such a thing.

Or would they?

I know that I risk making the allegory stupidly obvious, yet I find that the mad rush of technology with the accompanying deluge of raucous images which devastate critical thinking and lengthy, discursive thought and reflection require it. It is a shame and an embarrassment that the culture of men like Edwards and Adams should fall so low.







 



Plot Notes-Where the notion started

Scene 1 – Open with Aunt going on to Uncle re her Christmas dinner, how beautiful the tablescape, how much she will shine over the other women, how she will set the standard of entertaining for the church for the next five years.

He goes on about how helpful it will be to his business, esp. if he can make an impression on the wealthy person (mayor?), and get him coming to church and on the church board so that he will contribute to both business and church.



Scene 2 – The Marine and his wife lost track of time and were supposed to be further east to meet his parents on Christmas. They won't make it. They have nowhere to go, he's to be deployed to a dangerous post, and they're short on money.

They call Uncle. He is not welcoming. Talks to Aunt. She won't have them. They're messy, and the house if fixed for Christmas, and the extra people will destroy the table scape. Try to work in that the Wife is the scapegoat of the family. They have no room for them.

Uncle tells them. They apologize and ask just to crash for the night. Aunt has a fit. Uncle tells them they can't, too many important people coming. He offers to make a call.

They say no thinks and drive on.



Scene 3 – They are driving through rough, mountainous desert and overtake an old man walking along looking cold and tired. They offer him a lift. He accepts and invites them to stay in his cabin. It's a rambling collection of a couple of houses and a barn joined together.

They accept.

Inside they find his wife bustling around assisted by a motley crew. The youngins are welcomed. The Damaged Woman asks the wife to help in the kitchen. They hit it off. Damaged Woman wishes she could find a good man for a husband, like the Wife.

Retarded daughter is setting the table. Miss matched dishes but plates and silverware for everyone. Wife notices the tenderness between Old Wife, Damaged Woman and Special.

Old Man helps Marine unload their bags into the little house. It's very like a romantic B and B. Marine offers to pay. He's turned down. They go to bring in wood. They stack it in a large box near the back door of the cabin's dining room.

Wounded Warrior, who has lost a leg, distributes it. The Old Man and the Marine help him when they get enough from the woodpile. The Wounded Warrior is somewhat dark and curt, but he's in constant pain from the missing leg. Wounded Warrior was a transporter who lost his leg in Iraq. Marine fought there too. Old Man gets them drinks, single malt scotch. They toast the fallen and the Coming of Christ. 



Scene – 4 They are called to table. The meal is simple, frontier food, food that would have been recognized by Americans two hundred years ago. There is plenty. Before they eat Old Man prays for mercy and blessing and love. They eat, share stories and jokes and joyously celebrate the greatest birth. After dinner they all pitch it to stack the dishes in the kitchen. Old Woman will not hear of washing up until the morning.

They sit together and Old Man plays a guitar, and begins some Christmas hymns. He is joined by Old Woman who has a breathtakingly lovely voice, as does Special. Wounded Warrior plays a wooden flute (recorder).

They are shown a small, cozy room on the side of the house apart from the family, the guest wing, Old Man calls it. A fire has been lit and the room made fragrant with lavender. "Show him you love him," whispers Old Woman to Wife. "Show her how much you love her," said Old Man to Marine with a wink. "You have all night. No need to rush."



Scene – 5 Aunt surveys her table and congratulates herself on having a wealthy and powerful people in her house. She has made up for marrying beneath her status. She snarls at a serving girl and gets her sent home because she did not move fast enough. The girl begs, but to no avail.

The caterer tells the girl that she will pay her for the night, and that she should stay in the van and make herself useful.

The caterer remembers the reading of the day in her church "You will know that they love me, if they love one another."

Postscript – "What you have done to the least of these, you have done to me."