The Christmas Tale

Story 11/21/2002

Copyright vcwriter17b

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OK, I don't look at weather forecasts. Yes, it's December in New England. So sue me.

I was working on the FX portion for a model of US balance of payments. That's Foreign Exchange for non-economists. I may not really have slept last night. I went to be thinking about the model. When I woke at the ungodly hour of 6AM, I had several ideas I wanted to try. In the zone, you know. Coffee? Breakfast? Meh. That can wait. I did a quick rinse with Listerine, then pulled on jeans, sneakers, T-shirt and windbreaker, then slung the backpack over my shoulder. The bike was sitting on the front porch. I'd been too tired to even remember to lock it last night. I hefted it down to the sidewalk, mounted and headed back to the computer center.

I don't care how cold it is. I'd rather be on a bike or motorcycle than enclosed in anything, and the bike is about the only consistent exercise I get these days. I don't think about it, I just do.

Not thinking, now there's a key phrase.

Running the model from a directly attached workstation is a heck of a lot easier and faster than trying to use the wireless connection. Especially when you're competing for bandwidth with all of the gamers. You would think people would have more important things to do on Christmas Eve. Yeah, right, who am I to talk?

So I got to the center, this time remembering to lock the bike. Went in through the sliding glass door and then down the stairs to the users' room. All of the tables were empty for a change, a concession to the holiday, I suppose. I found my usual nook, unpacked and set to playing with the model.

The basic inspiration was a good one, but there were a lot of little adjustments. A model is after all a model - a simulation and simplification of a much more complex reality. The ultimate test of a model is smell - does it smell right? Does it produce results that are plausible without any impossible surprises. If you run a model and 2 + 2 doesn't add to 4 in every situation, it's junk, no matter how much you like the output. When the model has 2,000 variables and 60 years of data, there's a lot of checking and adjusting.

Time flies whether you're having fun or not. After a six pack of soda, junk food from vending and about 8 hours of work, I think I've got something that I want my clients to review. And my eyes are shot. I need some protein and some real sleep. Yes, I've slept on a table in the Comp Center before, but that's not something you want to volunteer to do, ever. Between the hard table and the hum of the lights, there is nothing to recommend it. Of course, if they ever put sofas and showers in this basement, some people would never leave. Marla probably would kill me if I pulled a stunt like that. I wouldn't blame her.

Opening the door to the outside world is one of those "oh, shit!" moments. Naturally at this afternoon hour in winter, the sun is setting but it's not dark yet. It's grey and misty with pellets of ice and snowflakes. Then I notice is a lot of white stuff on the ground. Then the white mound about where the bike rack was last seen, with a handlebar grip sticking out the side. Then that it's really cold. Finally I realize, as my sneakers sink into the snow, that my shoes and jeans are going to be filled with slush by the time I get home. Won-der-ful.

My sleeve collects slush as I search for the bike cable and lock. That takes a bit. Then I lift the bike out of the drift. I sling the backpack over my left shoulder and put the bike on the right, then start trudging out to the street. I'd like to say that this is the first time I've done this, and that I learn from my mistakes. Neither is true. Been there, done that, doing it again. Ah well, I could be paying for a gym membership.

The street's a little better than the parking area or driveway. The plows have done a first pass. I actually can set the bike on its wheels and ride for a couple of blocks. Slippery as heck but it beats carrying the darn thing for even that little distance.

Once I get up to Main Street, well that's when the trip gets interesting. The snow provides a beautiful backdrop for the faux colonial stores and homes - all of which are dark for as far as the eye can see. More unusual, people are standing in the doorways of these darkened structures, staring out into the street. Now, some stores do close early on Christmas Eve, but that's not what this is about.

I finally notice the car embedded in a utility pole on the next block. There's a cop I know talking to a couple on the street side of the car, and a few angry neighbors screaming at them from the sidewalk. Sound carries in the cold stillness, whether it's something you want to hear or not.

I know the cop, so I go over to see if I can help. Wet and cold as I am, a few frozen minutes more won't make a difference.

Or maybe they will.

As I get closer, I can see that Larry, my cop friend, is quite flustered. The couple are dressed simply. He's in sweatshirt and jeans, she in a long dress. He has a weather-roughened and lined face with a long black beard. She has a classically beautiful face, almost cherubic, coupled with that "beach ball" look of advanced pregnancy. Her image and poise in an obviously stressful situation make me think of Renaissance paintings I'd seen long ago at the National Gallery.

The car looks like a rust bucket from hell. If it had ever passed an inspection, it was probably before I was born. If cars even existed back in the Dark Ages.

I pick up on the conversation as I approach, before they notice me.

"Look folks, I don't know what to do here. Your car isn't going anywhere. Even if it could, the lake bridge between the town and the highway is blocked by an overturned car, and a highway overpass between there and the hospital has a jackknifed tractor trailer. Choppers are grounded and you can't walk there in this mess. You're just not getting there."

"Then what do we do? I don't know how long she can hang on." Mr. Beard is on the verge of panic, I'm guessing its his first rodeo. The woman is like, "calm down, I've got this" although I'm not sure she does. I take that as my cue.

"Hey Larry, sorry for intruding, but can I be of help here?"

"Hey Bill, this is Joe and his wife, I'm sorry, Maria is it?. They were trying to get to the hospital."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," as I offer my hand to the bearded one. She simply nods to me and smiles. "Hold on a sec. Let me deal with the Greek chorus on the sidewalk so we can talk without shouting." I step away from the trio and scan the 20 or 30 gawkers. I do see one person who might be helpful and seems embarrassed by the display.

Cupping my hands, I channel the drill sergeant I used to be. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!" I smile. The voice still rocks, loud enough to wake the dead and pull people out of their I'm-so-sorry-for-myself pitty parties.

They actually do get quiet and focus on me as I step toward them. Some even step back as I approach. "Listen people, the lights are off for several blocks in both directions from here, so this car is not responsible for your power outage. The outage started somewhere else." They start to look around, seeing the evidence for what I'm saying.

"Now listen carefully, I'm saying this once and for the sake of your family, you need to follow instructions. Get back inside your home and close it up, tight. We don't know how long the outage is going to last, so use tape, clothing, rags, whatever, to seal air leaks around windows and doors. Fill whatever containers you have with water and put them in the freezer to help preserve what you have there, and then keep that door closed! If you have a generator, conserve fuel. Again, you don't know what caused this or how long it's going to take to fix. Understand?"

I see some heads nodding. "OK, now move!"

With a shrug of shoulders, the crowd starts to disperse. I wave to Alice, a computer nerd friend from uni. On getting her attention, I signal her toward me. She nods and comes over after helping to calm the last couple of hotheads on the sidewalk and sending them on their way.

"Hi, Alice! Do you know if Dr. Flanagan is home?"

"I took some Christmas cookies over to him earlier. You know, he doesn't have much of a holiday since his wife died. I caught him as he was going out the door. The hospital asked him to come in because they were short-staffed. I haven't seen him come back, so I expect he's spending the night there."

"Any other medical types in the neighborhood?"

"Best bet is probably getting one of the EMTs. I think Shana is working tonight."

"We need to get this woman into shelter. Do you have space or should I take them over to my place?"

"If I have to, but I've got three families already staying with me tonight already. That's 14 adults and children." She knows I'm single and had a big house to myself. OK, I got this.

"Wow, bless you. Do you need anything?"

"No, we're good."

"OK, Merry Christmas, Alice."

"Same to you, Bill."

Turning back to the trio, "Larry, help me get this couple over to my place. Joe, do you have anything you need to bring from the car? If you do, get it now. And Larry, could you call up the rescue squad and see if them have an EMT they could spare. Shana if possible. She knows her way around deliveries."

"You and she did one together, if I remember correctly."

"That's why I'd prefer her."

"Will do."

We loaded up the squad car. The bike goes over the push bars on the nose, the couple and their duffle bag into the back seat and I ride shotgun up front. We crawl down the street at like 5 miles per hour, but it beats walking. The snow is starting to pick up again and it's not getting warmer, that's for sure.

Shana was out on a call, some idiot overdoing lifting heavy, wet snow. They didn't think it was a heart attack but wanted to make sure. Dispatch said they would send her over as soon as she cleared. Provided of course that no one else chose to get stupid tonight.

I called Marla, owner and chef extraordinaire at the best Greek diner in town. And a much neglected girlfriend. I knew, like me, she didn't have family. I didn't know how she was planning to spend the evening. I did say, neglected, right? What kind of boyfriend deserts his lady on Christmas Eve? I needed to man up and fix that.

Anyway, I had planning to call her. Of course, the conversation right now was going to be quite different than what I had anticipated. Certainly not my first choice for an evening with her. And of course the call defaulted to the speaker in the car so that Larry and the couple could hear.

"Hey beautiful, busy?"

"Never too busy for you, Bill. I'm hearing an echo from a speaker. Obviously not your bike. What's up?"

"Meh, you know me too well. Got an impromptu house party going. I'm riding in Larry's patrol car and we're bringing a couple who were trying to get to the hospital and didn't make it. The woman looks like she might give birth tonight. Shana's coming over as soon as she finishes a call, and, well, I really could use an extra pair of hands and maybe help with food."

"Well, that's not exactly why I hoped you were calling, but it beats staring at a yule log on the laptop. Let me grab some stuff and hike over. Be there in 10 to 15."

I smiled. "God, you are wonderful. Thank you. One of multitude of reasons I love you so much." The words flew faster than the brain could censor them.

The phone got quiet. "You said the L word, Bill. You never say the L word. I've even heard you talk about never saying the L word."

"I guess I did, didn't I?"

"Yessss."

"Well, been meaning to talk with you about that." I chuckled, "This just isn't the setting I had in mind."

Pause.

"For real?" Very quiet.

"Yes, my lovely lady, for real." Time to be honest with myself. I said it, let's own it, because it truly is how I feel about her. Saying it over the phone from the front seat of a cop car just isn't how I thought it might go down. "You are the love of my life, my one and only. For real."

"Oh shit, if I start crying it's going to slow me down."

"Then wait til you're here. I've got all the shoulder you could ask for and I'm already soaking wet. And holding you all night after I tell you the rest of what I'm thinking just sounds really nice."

"Oh shit, shit, shit. Oh my god."

"Get going, my lady. I really do need you here, please. Not just because I love you."

"Aye, my captain." I heard a kissing sound, a giggle and she clicked off.

Larry looked at me and smiled. "About damned time."

"True that."

The couple in the back seat were grinning ear to ear. Her first words of the evening, spoken softly but with conviction, "When love is real, it's a warm blanket that is bulletproof. It surrounds you and protects you in the best possible way."

"I'm discovering that, yes. It's taken awhile. I'm a guy. We can be kind of thick at times." She giggled, probably the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

Larry pulled the squad up to the bottom of the driveway. I grabbed a shovel out of the trunk and scooped a path to the front steps, and then cleared the steps and then the porch between steps and door so that Joe could get his wife safely into the house. Bill lugged their duffle while I gave them a quick tour of the first floor and lit the wall sconces. Always had this thing about brass and glass sconces, but now I put the candles inside to good use. Then I lit the fireplace in the living room to take the chill off the house. The old house has working fireplaces in two of the four bedrooms upstairs, so I lit those as well. Heating in the house is gas, but the electric thermostats default to off when the power is out.

Larry hadn't committed to staying, but I didn't think the weather would give him a choice. And I didn't want to push Marla into anything until I knew she was good with it. So I wanted to have all five bedrooms available and ready for sleeping. In the end, as usual, reality has its own ideas about what's required.

Cooking uses natural gas, not electric. Need to use matches instead of the electric ignition and use the cell phone app instead of the built-in timer. No big deal.

The house has a generator, but I want to conserve it. Like I told the sidewalk crowd, there's no way to know how long the power outage would go. Bringing a child into the world would count as a legit emergency warranting using the generator. Simply heating the house when there are other ways to do it, not so much.

I pulled a water bottle from the fridge for the mother-to-be, and boiled water for the French press for coffee for everyone else. We were already tired. Not sure how much sleep we were going to get this evening. That's up to the baby after all.

The old Victorian has one guest room off the living room, probably a parlor back in its glory days. Bill and I quickly stripped the bedding, I put a waterproof mattress protector down, and then remade the bed. We brought the couple into the room and then stepped out to give them privacy while Joe got Maria settled. I brought a chair for Joe to sit next to her and a TV tray for his coffee. The fire was visible through the door which they left ajar. They finally smiled at each other as they started to relax.

Larry looked in, and then went to enjoy his coffee by the fire.

Marla resembled a giant Santa goddess as she breezed through the front door with two women in tow a few minutes later. The towering red haired Amazon was wearing a fur cap trimmed with snow, a red car coat, white slacks and high black boots, with a great white bag slung over her shoulder. Her companions, each a lot shorter, looked like a pair of sexy elves with their own red caps. However, each also carried a backpack and what looked like a doctor's bag.

They stamped their feet in the entryway, dropping snow onto the mat by the door. Then they shed their boots and came into the living room, slipping across the hardwood in red Santa socks.

Larry and I broke up laughing at the sight. Happily, the women took our laughter as intended.

"Anne, this is my what-ever-we are, Bill. Bill, this is my neighbor, Anne and her roommate, Grace. Both work at Children's. Anne's a resident and Grace is an OB/GYN. Figured we needed someone who knew what they were doing. The bag is because I didn't know what kind of supplies you had. I don't think you were expecting a crowd tonight."

I nodded, then introduced them to Larry. Anne and Larry seemed to take an instant liking to one another. Then I took them in to meet the couple. After introductions, Larry, Marla and I stepped out. Anne and Grace stayed with the couple, while Marla took over the kitchen. I remembered the bike still sitting on the front mount of the squad car and went out to bring it into the garage. Bike season was probably over for a few weeks, anyway.

I took a few additional minutes to clear enough of the driveway so that Larry could get the squad off the street. The plow driver would appreciate that when he came back around for the next pass.

With the others busy, I turned to the next project on my list.

Sometimes, the best thing a guy can do is stay out of the way and let the experts do their thing. We have a chef, a medical team, security. Now my role is carpenter. The baby was going to need a place to sleep and I have a woodshop in the garage and a lot of material left over from working on the house.

I flipped on the generator. I'd need the power for a few minutes for wood cuts. Of course, that gave everyone else some additional light they weren't expecting.

I had soundproofed the wood shop so that I could work without subjecting neighbors or anyone else to the noise of my power tools. It actually didn't take long to rough out what I had in mind. Once I had the drawings and preliminary assembly together, I went off in search for Marla and Anne to get their feedback.

Both were surprised and pleased. The baby would lay in a maple basket hanging from a metal frame, rather like a miniature swingset. The device had a low center of gravity for stability and a newborn wouldn't be tossing and turning anyway. Nothing fancy. You could probably buy something better in a store, if you could get to a store and if they were open and if they had any in stock. Since that wasn't going to happen, this would do. And it comes with a "Bill warranty" which you couldn't get from a store - anything wrong, Bill fixes it.

Once I had their suggestions, I used a small rotary sander to work the maple forming the basket. There was no time to lacquer the wood, so I wanted it to be as smooth as possible with no risk of splinters harming the child. The final pass with a 1000 grit sanding sheet made sure of that. Then I assembled the wooden frame for the basket. The frame became an exoskeleton, holding the basket together from the outside. The headboard, base, sides and footboard attach inside the frame, keeping the edges of the frame away from the baby. Only smooth surfaces next to the infant.

I hung the basket using chains attached to a metal frame made from 3-inch pipe. The assembly could hold a lot more weight than the baby would be. I always overbuild for safety. It might actually look nice if there were time to spray a coat of paint on it. Not tonight, though. No clue how much time we had before it would be needed. Not going to have an infant breathing paint fumes.

Finally, I cut up and stitched a section of an old sleeping bag to make a mattress, then wrapped it with plastic to prevent moisture damage. I added a cloth outer layer, using safety pins underneath to fix it together. The final touch involved Velcro tabs on the base and the bottom of the mattress to keep it from shifting. It was all done in under 90 minutes.

I brought the assembly into the guest room. Joe and his wife were relieved and delighted. They'd been talking about how to keep the baby safe while everyone was sleeping. Now they had a solution. I put a carpet remnant under the assembly to keep it from scraping the floor and make it easy to slide to where they want it.