The morning of the day before Christmas found the usual breakfast crowd gathering at the diner. Sarah met the regular members of the Circular Congregation with a smile, an aromatic cup of hot coffee, and a cheery “Merry Christmas,” as each entered and joined the conversation at the big round table occupying center stage at the eatery.

“Got your Christmas shopping finished?” she asked of no one in particular, as she filled each cup to the brim.

“Gonna start right after breakfast,” Big John Hudson said between mouthfuls of pancakes dripping in butter and syrup. “I have no idea what to get mom.”

“It’s Christmas Eve and you haven’t finished your shopping, yet?” she chided dubious disbelief.

“Haven’t even STARTED,” Arnold Tobin laughed as he raised his cup and pleaded with his eyes for a refill. “I can go into one store, spend less than an hour, and come out with presents for fifteen people.”

“I can be in and out of the store in a half hour and have a gift for everyone on my list, including that idiot nephew of mine,” chimed in Harrison Winkle as he tried to one-up Arnold in their yearly version of ‘Name That Tune – Christmas Edition.’ “It takes me longer to wrap the presents than it does to shop for them.”

“I’ve seen how you wrap presents,” smirked Mort. “I’ve seen pastrami wrapped in butcher paper that looked better.”

“I’ve been finished for weeks,” Jimmy responded with a big grin.

All year long, Jimmy is the kind of guy that likes to bellyache about unimportant and unchangeable things, such as where the dividing line between the Eastern and Central Time Zones should be. However, at Christmas time, he considers himself to one of Santa’s most important helpers. He starts gift shopping in July, and pays close attention all year long to any hint of a meaningful gift for each of his friends. This evening, being Christmas Eve, he will fill his trunk, back seat, and any available room left over in his front seat, with carefully wrapped presents for all of his friends. From the moment the sun sets, he will drive from friend’s house to friend’s house, delivering the most thoughtful of gifts.

Tonight, Jimmy doesn’t care which time zone he is in.

“You should be shopping for Saturnalia gifts, not Christmas presents,” groused Tommy Jones, the elder member of the group. “Jesus was born in the spring, not in the winter. Celebrating in December was just a way to get the Pagans to convert.”

Every year, Tommy made a point of reminding everyone about the historical verses spiritual aspects of the season. At eighty-two, Tommy has been a widower for six years. He and his wife never had any children, and this time of year turns the usually warm and fuzzy Tommy into a cold and crusty curmudgeon.

“I don’t care when we celebrate it, just as long as we do,” Sarah said softly, as she placed a reassuring hand on Tommy’s shoulder and topped off his coffee cup. “It’s a great time to be with the people that mean the most to you.”

“It’s a great time to eat cookies, and fudge, and kieflies,” laughed Hannibal King as he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the colorful red paper Christmas napkin. “I just can’t get enough kieflies. Someone should start a tradition of making them for the Fourth of July.”

Tommy pushed his empty plate away and slid his chair back from the table. “I’ve had about as much of this ‘Happy Face’ stuff as I can handle for one day.” He gave Sarah a hug and pressed enough cash in her palm to pay for everyone’s breakfast and leave her a generous tip. “Merry Christmas, everybody,” he mumbled as he grabbed his hat and coat. “Happy Hanukah, Mort.”

“Shalohm.”

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.