December 15th

 Who’s Got the Button? 

In Memory of Becky Carlson 

 

It’s interesting what makes me cry while pregnant. This time it’s a box of buttons. 

Instead of letting Mom’s box of buttons collect dust, I’ve been finding ways to use them. This Christmas I’m attempting to be creative by making homemade Christmas cards. It’s a slow process of gluing her buttons one by one on each card trying to get the random sizes to make the shape of a Christmas tree.  I don’t want this project to look like a child’s school art project. 

As I’m finishing this project, I looked in the box to find that I could see the bottom of it. Maybe 20 or so remain. Realizing that I neared the end of my mom’s buttons brought tears to my eyes. I had to do my best not to outright bawl at the dining room table where anyone in the family could walk in on me.  

My logical side was calling my emotional side a fool, but that didn’t stop the tears from welling up. It felt like my mom was gone again. A series of thoughts began to swirl in my head. 

My goal was to use up the buttons.  Did I want the buttons gone? They’re just buttons. Who did I give the buttons to? Does it matter? Would they treasure them? If they didn’t what was I going to do? Take them back? 

I shake my head to pull myself from circling further down that thought process. 

As I wiped the tears away, I looked at the cards I was making and saw how pretty they are. The golden buttons on top looked like a star tree topper. The colorful buttons were like the ornaments on my own tree that stood in my view in the living room. While I sat surrounded by my project at the dining room table can see that I’m surrounded by Christmas at this moment.  

I can see the kids’ Christmas art projects, garland around the doorways, poinsettias, and a wreath over the fireplace. I can hear holiday music playing. I breathe in the smell of the pine-scented candles. My eyes stop on the nativity set I inherited from my mom after she… 

I wasn’t just surrounded by Christmas. I see my mom everywhere. I see her ornaments hanging on the tree. I can see her in the smiles of my kids in their pictures. I can see some of my mom’s buttons on a picture frame my kids made, and on a decorative pillow she made. 

Then a line in the Bible came to me; “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” 

This scripture wasn’t talking about my mom, but it was Mom who first taught me about Him. I can feel His love for me more easily because I knew my mom’s love for me. 

A smile then came across my face and a warmth filled my heart. 

Just because Jesus died never meant he was gone either. Just because he left the world after his resurrection didn’t mean he left us without comfort or left us alone. 

He put so much love out into the world that it echoes about even today. Even though Mom and I put out all those buttons into the world, she lovingly gathered, doesn’t mean they are gone. It doesn’t mean she’s gone. 

In the midst of gathering decorations, she is here. In the midst of making these cards to reach out to people, she is here. In the midst of gathering for this holiday, He is here just as much as she is.  And it doesn’t matter how many buttons go, or how much love I give I’ll never be alone or without comfort. 

 

THE END 

December 13th

 Christmas Stars 

For Jon Young 

 

Who wants their birthday on Christmas? Last time I checked… No one. Who wants to celebrate my birthday with me? Last time that happened was right after I won an Oscar. Right before my stroke. And who wants to be around a washed-up Hollywood leading man on Christmas or on his birthday? No one. The world has a short memory. This fact used to hurt more than it does now. Today, on my 78th birthday, it’s more like a dull ache that blends in with my arthritis. It was this that brought me to this lonely café on a Christmas afternoon. “Your usual table Mr. Yeoman?” Casey, the owner of the café, was barely in her thirties and full of life. I spend every holiday here and any other day I don’t want to feel the pain of my loneliness and my ruined fame.

“Yes…” I sighed, “By the window.” “Your usual dessert?” Casey has never been in front of a camera, but her café is more famous than either one of us. Her Great Grandfather started it when Hollywood was known as Hollywoodland. I nodded and not long later Casey brought me a sweet bun topped with a towering pile of cream. “The best semlor outside of Sweden,” I said, a small smile escaping me. I was about to ask Casey to join me, but another customer came in. The only other one besides me. He was a tall young man, if I was standing, I’d look small next to him. He looked as miserable as I felt. “He’s early,” Casey muttered. “Another usual?” Casey nodded, “Every Christmas, but he never speaks beyond ordering.” Casey goes to attend to the young man, and I stare out the window, looking at the best Christmas scene Southern California has to offer: palm trees covered in lights, fake snow on windows and special holiday deals advertised all over the place. The few people not celebrating were walking about alone or with a few other people as if unaware that today was a holiday. “Excuse me…” The voice surprised me. I had forgotten there was anyone else here. I turned to see that the tall young man who had just come in was sitting at a table across from me. He was looking right at me. He had a hot drink in his hand. I thought maybe he needed me to pass him some sugar or something. “Are the semlor any good?” He asked in a thick Swedish accent. I only knew it was Swedish because he sounded like my uncle. “The best outside of Sweden,” I said, “A lot like the way my mother made them.” “You Swedish too?” the man asked. “Part,” I explain, “My mother is from Sweden and my father is Scottish.” The man nodded approvingly. Just then Casey came over and asked the man, “What will it be Emil?” “I will be daring today and finally try a semla,” Emil declared. “About time!” Casey gave him her warm smile that made people forget they were lonely. “I’ve been telling you for ages to try it.” “Not that I don’t trust you I needed a second…” “You didn’t trust me,” Casey said playfully. She gave him a wink and returned not long later with an identical semla for Emil. We sat in silence as we enjoyed our semlor. It was an awkward silence, at least for me. I used to enjoy the silence here. Here I could forget everything. Now, I feel obligated to have a conversation. Was I obligated? He seemed to be just as lonely as I was. Why else would he be here on Christmas? What do I say? It’s been years since I’ve had a genuine conversation with someone. Back then I usually talked about myself. That’s all people wanted me to do- talk about me and the movies I was making. I finally was daring as said, “God Jul!” Emil looked up from his phone and smiled, “God Jul, min vän!” My Swedish was rusty but I think he called me friend. When I didn’t respond Emil said in English, ”You don’t know much Swedish?” I let out an embarrassed laugh and admit, ”I’m rusty. I haven’t used it since I did that movie about Alfred Noble... That was...” I stopped to calculate, ”Over twenty years ago.” ”You an actor?” ”Was,” I corrected, ”No one wants to see this face on screen anymore.” Emil was staring at me as if trying to place my face, ”...Hal Yeoman?” ”I’m surprised anyone under forty would know me,” I muttered. ”I thought you looked familiar!” Emil sounded excited now, ”You said you were in Noble my brain put it together.” ”You saw it? I thought everyone wanted to forget that movie... I know I do...” ”It was not your best work, but your Swedish was flawless!” I couldn’t help but smile. ”Why are you here alone?” Emil asked. ”Don’t movie stars have endless parties?” I let out a laugh, ”I told you I was a movie star. No one has time for a washed-up actor.” ”Because of your stroke?” ”Why are you here?” I asked quickly, ”A young man with a lot of future ahead of him. Where are you family or friends? Shouldn’t you be playing the part of Tomten for your kids or nieces and nephews?” Emil’s face darkened and he went back to his Semlor. ”I’m really busy... I don’t have time for that.” We didn’t say anything for a time but just picked at our desserts. ”Busy doing what?” I asked suddenly. ”Huh?” ”You said you were too busy to do the Christmas thing...” ”I didn’t say I was too busy to do... I don’t have... Forget.. I should go.” Emil started to stand when I said quickly. ”And do what?” He paused in mid-stand. ”Humor an old man.” Emil sat down. ”What don’t you have time for?” I repeated. I watched Emil stab his semlor a few times as if his dessert had offended him. ”Why don’t you have time for all that stuff right now?” Emil glared at his dessert and said to it, ”Because no one had time for me.” I sat there and waited for him to explain. I knew it wasn’t easy to spill years of resentment to a stranger. “You know the worst day to have a birthday?” I still didn’t speak, but let him go, ”It’s Christmas. Every year my birthday got rolled into Christmas... and you know how big Christmas is in Sweden.” I nodded understandingly. ”I was unimportant to my family... just one of the kids... another mouth to feed. So, I left Sweden to unburden them of my presence as soon as I could.” I debated over my words. I took a bite of my dessert to buy myself some time. Emil wasn’t going to like what I needed to say. When I finished my bite I said, ”I get it... families aren’t always easy to deal with.... but the thing is... you aren’t important.” ”What?” ”You need to learn this now before you learn the hard way like I did,” I could feel my stomach tighten. I needed to hear this as much as I needed to give it, “When I was at my prime as an actor... on the wish list of many women... the envy of men... the winner of awards... I thought I was really someone... I had it all...” I paused, the memories laying heavy me me, “But I lost it all as soon as I had those strokes. My health? Gone. My good looks? Gone. My fame? Gone. All those movies I made are now in thrift stores or discount bins. Barely anyone remembers me. If I’m lucky Lifetime will do a cautionary tale about my life after I die.” ”Are you trying to cheer me up or make me more depressed?” I let out a short laugh, “Life isn’t a Hallmark or Disney movie. There isn’t a magical fix that erases problems. It’s messy and people are imperfect. You need to know that now... you have more time than I do. I learned this too late in life.” “The world will tell you how amazing you are, then drop you like a giant New York rat as whenever they want. When I had my strokes... I learned real quick how unimportant I am. ” ”What about your friends and family?” Emil inquired. ”I left them all in the dust in my climb to stardom,” I said with a heavy sigh, ”With ex-wives and friends as shallow as I was. There wasn’t a person sorry to see me go... and fans... they went off to the next name in lights.” “Sounds depressing...” I nodded and said, “It was for a long time... especially on Christmas with no one around to celebrate or to wish me a happy birthday.” Emil’s eyebrows furrowed, he looked shocked and a bit confused. But I didn’t let him say anything. “Then one Christmas and birthday I came to my favorite cafe to celebrate alone only to find out that someone had sent another just as lonely as I am and just as bitter as I used to be about sharing the limelight of my birthday.” “Today is your birthday too?” Emil asked in shock. I nodded, “For the past seventy-eight years.” “That’s a crazy coincidence!” “I don’t believe in coincidences.” Emil leaned back, folding his arms, frowning, ”What are talking about Mr. Yeoman?” ”I’ve lived through too many decades to know that things rarely happen without work or Someone planning them... My luck isn’t that good... too many trips to Vegas to prove that!” Emil continued to frown at me. “And today just confirmed that,” I continued. When Emil continued to look doubtful I recited, ”Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father…” I paused to remember, “…The Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who… Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that… we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble…” “I didn’t take you to be a Bible reading, church… person,” Emil said coldly. I shrugged and said, “I’ve had a lot of time on my hands.” “Hm!” was all I got out of Emil. The longer I looked at Emil the more I saw myself at his age. He wasn’t aiming to be in front of a camera, but he certainly wanted to shine just as much as I did. “Not many people share our birthday,” I began, “I’ve learned it’s our job to be as much of a star as He was because it’s a yearly reminder that He too was born to be a star. Stars give light, guide, bring in the wanderers and give them a path.” “Why are you telling me this?” Emil asked, “What’s your point?” “I didn’t do my job as a Christmas Star… I pushed everyone away. But you…” I pointed at him with my wrinkled, withered hand, “You still have some shine left in you.” I could see the doubt beginning to melt in him. The hardness in his eyes lessened. He unfolded his arms. Emil leaned forward and said, “You’re wrong.” It was my turn to raise my eyebrows questioningly at him. “You still have plenty more to give.”   

 

THE END 

December 11th

 A Man Called Santa 

In Memory of Ben Heaps 

 

I’m not the easiest person to get along with. Joanna can attest to how difficult it is to be married to me. It’s because I was raised by God-fearing parents whose sole purpose was my homeschooling and gave me that same fear in God and going to Hell. Jokes and nonreligious songs were forbidden. Holidays
were solemn. Magic was evil. 

For years, I went willingly along with my parents’ ways until I went to college. There I began to wonder if they might be wrong. My parents got angry that my trust in them was slipping. My response to their

anger was taking a job, right after graduation, far away.  

But I couldn’t get rid of my upbringing. I cringe at every popular fantasy book and movie. My stomach churns with mentions of the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus.  

Joanna and I met at work and became friends. To everyone’s surprise, we fell in love and got married. We’re each other’s opposites and still making it work after eleven years. We’ve rubbed off on each other some. But recently we’ve been rubbing each other the wrong way.  Christmas is when things are at their worst with us.  

Joanna kind of respects my wishes. Our kids have always known the truth of where their presents come from. But she brings home stories and movies about the magic of Christmas and shares them with the kids. This drives me crazy, but I still don’t want to lose her. To avoid another explosion like last year, I’ve agreed to spend Christmas with her parents.  

Joanna’s mom, Yolanda, greets us with all the excitement and warmth my mom never had. 

While relaxing with some hot chocolate, Yolanda tells us the news of the town. After minutes of rambling, I hear her say, “Oh and Robbie Collins had a heart attack last month. He’s in Evergreen Village- that new retirement care place.”  

Joanna looked distraught and declared, “We’re going to see him!” 

“Wait what? Why?” I stammered. “Who?” 

Yolanda sighed and said, “I know you don’t like magic… stuff, Austin… But Robbie Collins means a lot to this town.” 

“Was he a mayor or something?” I asked. 

Joanna drops her smile and says hesitantly, “For almost forty years Mr. Robbie has been Santa Claus at every town, school and church function. Every kid who’s lived here has seen him, visited him.” 

My chest tightened and I felt cold as the winter weather. “Do what you want Joanna.” I turn to go back to the car, “I need to finish unloading.” 

She didn’t follow me, but soon Joanna’s dad, Roger, came out of the house. I was certain he was here to defend his wife and daughter. I was ready for a fight.  

Then Roger said, “Need some help?” 

All my anger ran away. 

“Uh… sure,” I muttered. 

When we got everything into the guest room Roger said, “Austin… You’re a decent man… I could’ve gotten a worse son-in-law.” Not sure if he was complimenting me or not, I kept silent, “But I think you need to hear this… You can be right or you can be happy.” 

Roger left me to think. 

Against my better judgement I went with Joanna and the kids to see this fake Santa guy. 

Walking us to his room a nurse told us, “You aren’t the first visitors! Everyone is coming to see their Santa.”  

The nurse left us at his room. The door was open I saw his room was overloaded with child-like decorations. Mr. Robbie hadn’t seen us yet, he was watching T.V. in a wheelchair. I felt disappointed that besides his white hair he didn’t look like Santa. He didn’t have a beard! 

I waited for Joanna to greet him. When she didn’t, I looked at her. She was clutching the wrapped gift she bought him like a scared child.  

“He’s old and worn out,” Joanna whispered, grasping my hand. 

I felt my heart soften a bit. I turned to the man and said in a business tone, “Mr. Robbie Collins.” 

He turned at the sound of his name and squinted at us. then his wrinkled face folded into a smile, “Jo-Jo Roberts! Is that you? Yolanda’s little girl all grown up?” 

“I go by Joanna now…” she stammered, “Joanna Harper.” 

“And those be the little Harpers. And you?” he said turning his smile to me, “Must be Mr. Harper!” His smile made me feel like he was excited to see me too.  

Mr. Robbie reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t place who.  

 “Come in! Come in!” He waved us into his room. We found seats. He offered us cookies and candy for the kids. Joanna gave him the gift. 

The conversation wasn’t profound- nothing memorable was said. But I remember there was laughter from all of us. Mr. Robbie listened intently as Joanna told him about college and how we met. When the kids spoke, he listened as if they were giving him important information. 

As the visit continued, I kept trying figure out who Robbie reminded me of. 

When a nurse came to get Robbie for dinner, he grabbed my hand and said in a friendly tone, “You’d be handsome if you smiled more.” Everyone laughed. I let out a chuckle. Then he gestured for me to come closer. I knelt down and Robbie whispered, “He’s waiting for you to give Him that weight you’re hanging onto, Brother.” 

Robbie nods, claps me on the shoulder and says to the nurse, “Dinner awaits me! My stomach is getting impatient!” 

Walking to the car, I took Joanna’s hand and said, “I like him.” 

“Really?” she said in relief. 

“He reminds me of someone.” 

“Who?” 

I pointed to the Nativity scene the nursing home had out front and say, “Him, the one they’re gathered around.” 

THE END