This was Tony's first Christmas on his own for, well, ever, really. He'd been with his parents for the first 25 or so, then with Meg. Last year Shane had been here, then off to Meg's for New Year's.
So this was his first real bachelor Christmas and he was determined that it wouldn't suck.
He was going to decorate, and play some tunes, and eat Nanaimo bars and gingerbread.
He was going to decorate, and play some tunes, and eat Nanaimo bars and gingerbread.
Christmas Eve was taken care of. He'd found a sign-up sheet on the bulletin board at work for a charity hockey game. One of those 24 hour things to raise money for the hospital. A few guys had already signed on, and Tony thought it sounded fun. He hadn't played in a few years but he'd been pretty good in his day.
Then, he'd been having coffee with Walt and telling him about the game and Walt asked, "What are you doing Christmas Day?"
"Don't know yet."
"Neither do I. We should do something together!"
"Sounds great! I didn't know you could cook."
"I can't. I was hoping you could."
Having determined that neither of them knew one end of a turkey from another, Walt did some research and found out about a church downtown that was having a turkey dinner on Christmas day that was open to anybody.
Tony wondered what to wear. Seemed like you should dress up for Christmas dinner, but it was in the basement of a downtown church and he figured most of the people coming would be homeless or slightly better off.
Walt would wear the same thing he always wore. Shiny black shoes, neatly pressed trousers with a matching suit jacket, a snappy matching fedora and, of couse, a tie. Walt had the most amazing tie collection. Dozens of them. Some spectacularly vintage. He told Tony once that he'd accumulated them over his years of wearing the priestly black with dog collar. He'd just kept buying ties, telling Esther that someday, he'd wear them. Every single one. She'd just laugh.
Aside from the occasional hideous tie, Walt was sharp, neat, respectable. Not a wrinkle, not a speck of lint. Tony had never known such a tidy person. He was kind of looking forward to seeing Walt surrounded by rumpled street dwellers.
A couple of weeks into December, Tony made his foray into the crawlspace under the basement stairs. It was amazing how much stuff you could cram in there and even more amazing how all the stuff you wanted was behind and under all the stuff you didn't want.
He plowed through the foothills of albums and old clothes only to get lost in the forest of yearbooks and hockey equipment (he'd been looking for that.). He waded knee deep through Shane's toys, ages 1 through 9 - no mean feat, bent over at the waist - to get to the Christmas decorations in the far back corner. Sitting in the dust, looking back across the great landscape he'd just traversed, imagining the return journey with each of 4 boxes, his enthusiasm faded a bit. But, he thought, I've come this far...
Once it was all out and he'd had a few minutes to make his spine the right shape again, he decided it would be tree first, lights second, and finally the creche. Start with the worst, end with the easiest. He hated putting up the tree.
It was the one he and Meg had bought when they got married and it was ugly as dirt. Kind of green, but not exactly. An army tank kind of colour. There were some nice ones now that almost looked real. This one had no such pretentions. It was wire and plastic, both of which got bent in strange directions sitting in the box for 11 ½ months. All assorted length bits that had to be laid out on the floor for comparison so you knew which ones went on the bottom and which on the top.
But it was his and he loved it. Either that, or there was no way he was going to shell out for a new one. Or a bit of both. Sentiment is not a pure thing.
He put on a few really good Christmas albums - Cockburn, Guaraldi, Motown, Cash – and a couple of hours, half a pound of shortbread cookies and most of one beer later he had an honest to goodness Christmas tree.
By then it was dark, no time to be putting up lights, so he dug out the creche. A little stable kind of thing, a ceramic donkey, a couple of sheep. Three wisemen, two shepherds, an angel. A little manger and a baby that fit in it. Mary, dressed in light blue. Joseph. A carpenter. Like Tony. He held Joseph in his hand for a minute. Picked up his drink. Took a sip. Sat down.
He'd never noticed the look on Joseph's face before. He looked a little stunned. Tony smiled. Yeah, well, you probably were, mate. Stunned. Thought you were going to marry a pretty girl, settle down, build things, have a family. Probably had a nice workshop at home, full of tools, a few unfinished projects waiting until you got back. Back from a trip to someplace you didn't want to be. A trip that wasn't nearly over yet.
Doing the right thing. What you were told to do. Being faithful. Being brave. Protecting and providing. Looking after a kid that wasn't even yours. Because it was the right thing.
Such an ordinary man doing an ordinary thing. But it was what God had told him to do. God had gone to a lot of trouble to tell this ordinary man to just keep doing the ordinary right thing. Don't be afraid, be true, look after your family. God had told him to do that.
Such a small thing, but it mattered. A lot. Just a little family. That changed the world.
Such a small thing, but it mattered. A lot. Just a little family. That changed the world.
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Christmas Eve.
The game was about half over. They'd started at 8 that morning. They'd finish at 8 tomorrow. The stands were surprisingly full. Tony had old skates, and new sticks, and he was having fun. This was a good day.
He was sitting in the box when he heard a voice behind him. "Hey, dad! Dad!"
Tony looked over his shoulder. It was Shane, about halfway up the stands. He was standng between Walt and Meg.
Shane and Walt were wearing big foam hats with 'TONY' painted on them. They both had big foam fingers that they waggled at him, and red rubber noses, smiling like idiots, each wearing three of the ugliest ties ever to see daylight, two straight and one bowtie. Meg looked bored.
He grinned and waved. Shane and Walt waved back. Meg made a gesture that was half wave, half checking her watch. Tony thought she must have practiced that in front of a mirror.
Shane shouted, "Score a goal?" Tony nodded, took off a glove and held up 3 fingers. He'd got lucky.
Then he was back on the ice.
While they waited for the puck to drop, one of the guys asked him, "That your family?"
Tony glanced back at his son, the old man he was just getting to know, and his ex-wife. He silently thanked God for them and said, "Yeah, that's my family." And he laughed and wondered whether he looked stunned.
He'd take time to ask for help later, help to do the right, ordinary thing. He was kind of busy right now.
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