Entry #625876, added on 12-24-08 @ 1:44 pm EST
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| A Tale of Christmas Past . . . | Entry #625876 |
I went to college as a young widow, working my way through the courses as fast as I could between the ages of twenty-seven and thirty. As a mass communications major, I worked as an intern at the university's news and information office, had a part time job with a local weekly tabloid magazine, clocked in time at a couple of other part-time jobs and was a full-time mom to boot.
I graduated my course of study at midterm, having completed my last exams just before Christmas, 1980. Excited to be entering the "real world," I took my last test and rushed over to the magazine office to attend the special meeting they had called for all the employees. I don't know about the others, but I thought it was all about a Christmas bonus and they would give us all token checks and a turkey, or something, at least. Instead, they had gathered us together to inform us they were bankrupt and we were all out of jobs; there would be no bonuses, no jobs to come in for after Christmas. Merry Christmas; goodbye!
Still, I was young and I wasn't easy to discourage; I thought I could always find another job. I had a Church singles party to attend that night, pies to bake to take to with me and lots of other things to occupy my mind; I pressed forward to the grocery store to pick up the items I would need to bake my pies. There was a certain young man I wanted to impress; his favorite pie was peach, so I bought peaches for one pie and cherries (my own favorite) for the other.
The shopping went well— looking back, it may be the only thing to go right that day, because when I left the store, my battery was dead and I had to call my dad to come jump-start my car. By now, my Christmas spirit was beginning to flag a little, but I proceeded to go home and bake the pies anyway. When everything was ready, I called my friend to ask if I could ride to the party with her, since I wasn’t sure what had caused the battery to fail and I didn’t want to get stranded somewhere between my house and the party before my dad had a chance to check everything out.
My friend and I had stayed up half the night before baking cookies for her to take, and she promptly informed me she was too tired to go; I would have to take her cookies to the party for her and find another ride. (Excuse me? After everything I have just been through, you're going to tell me you’re too tired? I don't think so!) I finally convinced her she had to accompany those several dozen cookies we had worked on so long and she came to get me. I deserved this party and nothing was going to stop me from going, not even if she was tired. I realize now my attitude may have been a tad on the selfish side, but by that time, I had a score to settle with the obstacles I was facing; I was determined.
This is where the story begins to take a significant nose-dive. One would think after jumping all the hurdles to get there in the first place, the craziness would begin to ease up, but this was not to be the case. When we got to the house where the party was, my friend walked straight into the glass storm door, face first. SMACK— it was humiliating and embarrassing for her, as well as much too amusing to me, but her pride was the only casualty. I left her talking to our host, continued to the kitchen with our sack of goodies and began to pull treats out of the bag. I had baked the pies in nice, large Pyrex(tm) pans because the crust always comes out so much flakier. It’s only fitting, given the day I had already experienced, I should drop the peach pie (not the cherry one; just the peach one!) in the ceramic tile floor so I couldn't possibly impress anyone with it.
The young man in question had been standing there and had seen the whole thing. He asked what kind it was and I said it was peach. He smiled and said he would eat it anyway, but since it was in pieces amongst the shattered glass, eating it was out of the question. It was my turn to be embarrassed and humiliated, but my angst wasn’t over yet, by any stretch of the imagination. After I helped clean up the pie wreckage, I proceeded to the livingroom to mingle with the others and another friend introduced me to her guest. My mind is a strange and wonderful jumble of mis-information, with unexpected turns and dead ends. This explanation is my only defense for what happened next. As Carrie introduced me to Scott, I thought about my cousins Paul and Scott and since one thought leads to another by the power of association, however irrational, I replied, "Hello, Scott; I'm Paul!"
By that point in the evening, there was little left for me to do besides dissolve into fits of laughter while everyone stood around waiting for some kind of explanation as to my raucous and strange behavior. Doubtless, a few must have thought both my friend and I had been celebrating with hard liquor before we arrived at the party, for what else could explain people who walk into doors or drop pies in the floor, then tell everyone in earshot their name is Paul? What, indeed? Scott and all the others were understanding (or maybe just curious) as I related the events of the day between snickering chortles and hysterical guffaws. Everyone there formed a wide circle around Scott and me and listened in silence while I recounted the events, blow-by-blow, of the misadventures of the day.
The incident established a precedent for my relationship with Scott. Forever afterward, whenever or wherever he saw me, he always walked up to me, huge smile on his face, and said, “Hello, Paul!” Suffice to say, I lived through the experience and I may have even learned something, though just now, I don't know what it was. I did impress my young man with my peach pie, but it wasn't exactly the impression I was aiming for. I think I also impressed everyone else at the party to be wary indeed of me if I’ve had a bizarre day. It just occurred to me, however, what I learned— if the cards appear to be stacked against you, GIVE UP and stay home, because if you're already having trouble, you shouldn’t press your luck. Ah, to be thirty again and know what I know now . . .
Merry Christmas, everyone, and a Happy Prosperous New Year! |
© Copyright 2008 Chalaedra (UN: chalaedra at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Chalaedra has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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