The Gubmuhhab Spirits of Christmas

A Christmas Story

The Gubmuhhab Spirits of Christmas

By Stan Morris

Copyright 2014, 2016

 

It was Christmas Eve, and I was catching an early flight out of Reagan International, planning to join my family in Watertown, Wisconsin.  I was feeling a little sleepy from the eggnog served at the previous night’s Christmas party.  I hadn’t wanted to attend, but my fat boss, Senator Allen, was there dressed in a silly Santa suit, so I had to make an appearance.  I had just purchased a ticket on Virgin America’s inaugural flight to Chicago, when I heard a young couple, toting a baby, arguing with the agent at the ticket counter next to me.

“I’m sorry, but there’s only one seat left on that flight,” the agent said.

“We’ve got to get to Chicago,” the mother insisted, almost in tears.

I thought, I can always take a later flight.

“You can bump me,” I said, “if you can get me to Chicago this afternoon.”

“We have a flight leaving in an hour,” the agent replied, “but the only ticket is in business class.”

I winced, but it had been a good year, so charitably I replied, “That’s fine.”

“I really appreciate this,” the young father said, holding out his hand. “I’m Joe, and this is my wife, Maria, and our son, Christopher.”

“I’m Stan.”

The agent made their tickets, and they turned to leave.

“I hope there’s room at the inn for you,” I joked, grinning at them.

They exchanged glances and rolled their eyes, like they had heard that a million times.  My grin faded.

I watched from the terminal window as their flight took off.  Mine was delayed due to winter weather coming in to O’Hare.  Luckily, I only had a carry-on containing gifts for my kids.  My plane was an old one, the kind with movie screens.  The latest version of Scrooge was playing.  The old man next to me chortled with delight every time Tiny Tim stumbled.

“Headed to Chicago?” I asked, trying for a little conversation.

“Yep,” he replied.  “The name’s Allister.

“I’m Stan.” 

“I’m a banker with lots of cachet,” he bragged.  Got a big foreclosure to finish today.  Did you catch it on the news? Marley’s Department Store. You probably heard about it.”

No, sorry, I’m not familiar with it.  I shop at Macy’s.”

He harrumphed and dismissed me.

We made it to Chicago, but Spirit Airlines had canceled their flights to Milwaukee and Madison, leaving me in a quandary.  When I checked my phone, I discovered Greyhound was still running, so I took a cab to their depot and caught the bus to Rockford, thinking I could take a cab from there to Watertown.  By that time, I was thoroughly annoyed, and it didn’t help when I found myself sitting next to a teenage girl who was sniffling and wiping her eyes.   I tried to scrunch close to the window, hoping to avoid catching whatever she had.  As we were nearing Rockford, she started crying.

Irritated, I said, “What the hell is wrong, kid?”

She looked startled as if she had just realized I was sitting by her.

“Come on, let’s have it,” I said impatiently.  “What’s your story, sister?”

“I’m sad, because I’m so close to home, and I haven’t seen my parents in a year.  I ran away with my boyfriend, Rudy, who turned out to be a lush.  He dumped me for a dancer in a Nutcracker play.  I’m on my way to Helena, Montana, no money, and all I have left to eat is this candy cane.”  She pulled the broken treat from her pocket.”

“Your parents live in Rockford?”

“Yes.”

“Give them a call.  Tell them the prodigal daughter is coming home.”

“I can’t do that,” she exclaimed. “I’m sure they won’t have anything to do with me, and I don’t blame them.”

“I’ll call them and let them know you’re all right.”

Her brow furrowed as she thought about it, and then she replied, “I guess that would be okay.”

“What’s your name?”

“Seraphia.”

“What’s your dad’s name?”

“Michael.”

She gave me their number, so I tapped it in.  I heard a man’s voice say, “Hello?”

“Mike, I’m Stan.  Your daughter is sitting next to me on a Greyhound bus.  Seems like it’s been tough sledding for her.”  I glanced at Seraphia.  Her panicked eyes were wide.  “Want to talk to her?”

“Seraphia?  She’s there?  Holy Jesus, put her on.”

“It’s your dad,” I said, holding out the phone while she frantically waved me away.

After a moment she gave up and took the phone.  “Daddy?”

As I sat there and listen to a tearful family reunion, I reminded myself to always travel with noise canceling headphones.  They met us at the station, so after enduring some more boo-hooing, I got to see the backs of them.  Good riddance.

I started looking for a cab, carefully passing a bag lady, sitting on the sidewalk, dressed in gaudy red and white clothing, looking like the Ghost of Christmas Passed Out.

“Ain’t cha gonna put somethin’ in my cap?” she snarled.

An elf cap lay next to her, so I tossed in an old Walmart gift card.  It probably had a dollar or two on it.  A Santa, standing by a Salvation Army bucket, ignored her.

I saw a cab and hailed it.  It stopped a block away, but before I could reach it, three wise guys sporting long sideburns opened the door and piled in.  I yelled, but the cab drove away.  Turned out, there was a dearth of cabs due to a Christmas convention for Elvis impersonators.  After tramping through the snow, I found a taxi parked next to an empty Christmas tree lot.  The driver had helped load a scraggly tree in the trunk of an old Chrysler Aspen.

“Drive carefully, Mr. and Mrs. Brown,” the driver yelled.  “See ya, Charlie.”

The parents said something unintelligible, the kid waved, and they drove away.

“Hey buddy,” I said. “Can you take me to Watertown, Wisconsin?”

“That’ll cost you a lot of ornaments, pal.”

“Better than standing here, frozen.”

“Okay.”

I opened the passenger door and got in.  The heater was running, so the cab was warm.  He was an older guy with a sweet smile.  He hadn’t eaten, and I was hungry too, so we stopped at Wendy’s.  I grabbed a burger.  He had a turkey sandwich and a Frostie.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m Stan.”

“I’m Clarence.”

The drive was slow but steady, without any of the weirdness I had experienced, starting at the airport in DC, but as we were passing through Janesville, I heard the distinct sound of small bells ringing.

Clarence turned his beauteous smile to me and said, “I got my wings.”

Now all these Christmas references had made me a little nervous, but this was a Tinkertoy bridge too far.  Was this guy a fruitcake?  I shrank away from him.  The bells jingled again, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cellphone.  

“Hi, Gabriella,” he said.  “Yeah, I thought so.  On my way to Watertown.  Yeah, this will pay for Jimmy’s nose job.”

He hung up and said, “I’ve been taking flying lessons.  That was my wife calling to tell me I got my pilot’s certificate.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and sat up.

The roads had been fairly clear, but as we neared Watertown the size of the drifts increased and he pulled over.

“I can’t go any farther,” Clarence said, his voice filled with worry.  “If I have an accident, my wife will make me wish I’d never been born.”

“It’s only about two miles more,” I said. “I can walk it from here.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

I paid him and started trudging north, but I had only slogged a hundred feet when a strange vehicle overtook me.  It was a motorized sleigh, complete with cutouts of reindeers pasted to the sides.  Santa Claus was driving.

“Hey, Santa,” I yelled. “Can I get a lift?”

The sleigh stopped, and the driver yelled, “Hop on.”

Once I was on board I said, “Thanks, pal.  Appreciate the ride.  I’m Stan.”

“I’m Nick.  Appropriate, right?”

“No kidding.”

“I’m taking a load of presents to the Good Shepherd Lutheran School.  It’s Christmas pageant night.”

“Is that on the east side of Rock River?”

“Sure is.”

“Can you drop me off at Riverlawn Avenue?”

“No problem.”

“You dress up as Santa every year?”

“No, this is the first year.  I moved here from Lubbock, Texas.”

I smiled, remembering.  “Really?  I lived in Lubbock.  By the West Loop on thirty-sixth street.

“I lived on thirty-fourth street.  Been out of work for a year.  Finding this job was a miracle.”  I winced.

I told Nick I could get off at the corner, but he insisted on taking me to my brother’s house.  As he waited, I knocked.  My sister-in-law, Angela, opened the door, and then the whole family came out to greet me.  I opened my bag, handed the toy drum to my oldest boy, the Italian donkey to my youngest, and then got a big hug from Rene.  She’s a wonderful wife.  We all turned to wave at Nick who had spun his sleigh around.

“Merry Christmas, ya’ll,” he yelled as he drove off.  “And ya’ll have a good night.”

I could have choked him.