RRN Online Volume 395

December 20 '03

Volume 395

Angel Tree A Dose Of The Christmas Spirit

I met Some Have Wings an angel this week. Yes, it's possible I'm mistaken, but I don't think so. This particular angel appeared in the form of a gray-haired female. The Bible reminds us we may "entertain angels unaware," and it was only in retrospect that I realized she was an angel.

On Monday prior to Christmas Day, I was in West Point, MS, for the purpose of delivering a Christmas gift to my good friend, Lee Gordon, Minister of Music at First Baptist Church and fisherman/ fish-cooker extraordinaire. Lee was running a little behind schedule and had not returned to his office when I arrived. I spent a few minutes conversing with the church secretary before phoning Lee for an update. Both the secretary and Lee had encouraged me to have a cup of coffee while I waited, so upon hanging up the phone, I asked the secretary where I could find the coffeepot.

"It's right across the hall," she stated, motioning over her shoulder.

Sure enough, it was in plain sight from where I stood inside a glass-walled office peering into the doorway of the fellowship hall. I thanked her for the directions and excused myself. Entering the fellowship hall, I noticed someone working at a table and further noted there were wrapped presents scattered over a series of tables but grouped with a semblance of order about them.

I don't recall if she spoke first or not, but I remember saying as I found a Styrofoam cup near the coffeemaker, "I'm gonna steal a cup of your coffee."

"It's not my coffee," she said, smiling, "but help yourself."

I filled the cup about half its capacity, thinking if the coffee was old or terribly strong, I wouldn't be obliged to consume a lot of it. I took a small sip and discovered it was neither old nor strong but mildly flavorful, and since I drink my coffee black, all the flavor comes through without the masks of creams and sweeteners.

Detecting friendliness in her voice, I stepped in front of her table, extended my hand and introduced myself.

"My name is Wayne Carter--I'm from Pontotoc--I'm a friend of Lee Gordon's," I shared, believing her to be a member of the local church, and assuming she would know the whereabouts of Pontotoc and most surely know Lee Gordon.

"And, I'm Mary Kay Beard," she said as we shook hands.

There was something about her gentleness that was appealing. I tend to think of people with gray hair as being my seniors, though that's not always the case, and her skin was less wrinkled than one would expect to find on a person in their late sixties.

"Have you heard of Angel Tree?" she asked.

"Angel Trees, sure," I commented, mistakenly pluralizing tree. "The Salvation Army does those every year."

"This is different; Angel Tree Ministries makes sure the children of prison inmates have something for Christmas," she shared without derision or laughter over my error. "This is our first year to be in Mississippi."

She asked me where I lived, though I had given her that information in our introduction, I repeated, "Pontotoc."

"I've heard of Pontotoc," she exclaimed.

"And where do you live," I queried.

"Birmingham," she responded, to my surprise, and it was then I learned she was not affiliated with First Baptist Church in West Point.

I explained that I meet a lot of folks who know someone from Pontotoc, which is remarkable considering the whole county has less than thirty thousand people.

"Pontotoc is famous for it's shoe store," I added.

"Is it like an outlet?"

"No, it's really just a small downtown building, but they've built a national reputation for men's shoes at a reasonable price. In fact, Lee Majors was on Johnny Carson one night and after Johnny commented on Lee's cowboy boots, Lee told him, 'I got them at the Progressive Shoe Store in Pontotoc, MS.' Plus, Pontotoc is not far from Ole Miss and most of the male students have been to Pontotoc at least once to look for a shoe bargain."

Are all these gifts from church members?" I asked.

"Oh, no. The manufacturers donated them. We got a late start this year in Mississippi, and the church is just providing us with space to help distribute the gifts in this area. We use volunteers to help us."

"That's great," I stated. "When my wife and I lived in Greenville, the Salvation Army was very active and each year they would have an Angel Tree in the mall. A child's name and age as well as the item the child wanted for Christmas would be printed on a paper angel and hung like a decoration on the tree. Barbara always selected one of the angels, bought the child one or more gifts, and in a small way helped someone have a Merry Christmas."

My cell phone rang about then, and it was Lee letting me know he was bringing in a load of cabinets for the house he and Connie have bought and are remodeling, and he asked me to meet him at the house.

A pre-teen, Black child arrived to pick up a gift that was apparently designated for her.

After noting the child matched the photo ID supplied by Angel Tree Ministries, Miss Mary found the package with the child's name and presented it to her, cautioning, "Now you have to promise not to open it until Christmas morning."

The young girl smiled broadly as she accepted the present and replied, "I promise."

I thanked Miss Mary for visiting with me while I waited and wished her a Merry Christmas.

I was about to walk away when I turned and asked, "I do have one more question…how do you pronounce, Mary, merry, and marry? Are they the same, all different, or two alike?"

"All the same," she replied.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon with the Gordons and remember telling Lee that I had just met the nicest lady at his church.

Oh, Miss Mary may not have been an angel, but I'd like to think so. Anyway, if she was, she found the perfect cover in Angel Tree Ministries. And, even if she's not an angel, she gave me a large dose of the Christmas Spirit as we talked.

Sunshine's Newest Jo Collins

By my count, Aunt Jo was hospitalized for eight weeks following her most recent fall. During the last three weeks of her hospitalization, she was in Pontotoc, which made it easier on family members and friends desiring to visit her than trekking to the regional medical center in Tupelo.

We (her nieces and nephews) knew she could not be kept indefinitely in a hospital, but we also knew that short of marked improvement she would not be able to care for herself if she returned to her home. The folks charged with writing the rules for Medicaid and Medicare made certain hospitals could not become substitutes for nursing homes by limiting the number of consecutive days of care to which a given individual is entitled. Thus, we were hardly surprised by the news we received on December 17^th, that Aunt Jo would be released by the hospital on Christmas Eve.

My younger brother James and his wife Peggy had hoped to be able to care for Aunt Jo once she was released from the hospital, but after consulting with the hospital's social worker, James and Peggy were reconciled to accepting other alternatives. After checking with several qualified sitters, it was determined that the cost of round-the-clock care was financially prohibitive, leaving but one viable alternative…a nursing home.

As a general rule, nursing homes have waiting lists and it's not always easy to find an opening at a moment's notice. However, Sunshine Nursing Home of Pontotoc had a room available. James, Peggy, Barbara, and I met with Aunt Jo on Thursday evening to share what we felt was the best provision we could offer. James shared all the information he had gathered and stated the obvious--the best care available that was also affordable was that of a nursing home, and fortunately a room was available immediately.

Aunt Jo was not happy with our recommendation, for she has long desired to return to her independent lifestyle and the comforts afforded by the familiar, namely, her home. However, after sadly telling us we had "just ruined her Christmas," she found grace enough to allow James to proceed as planned, and on Friday, December 19^th, Jo Collins became the newest resident at Sunshine Nursing Home.

Aunt Jo is in a semi-private room. Her roommate is Sarah Jordan, a woman whose residency there predates the institution's name change to Sunshine Nursing Home, some forty years ago. Sarah is a friendly and talkative soul who should make a good match for Aunt Jo.

Aunt Jo knows several of the residents at the nursing home, one of whom was once her neighbor, Mr. Lamar Roberts. When Sara Sue, Barbara, and I visited Aunt Jo this past Sunday, I found a classmate from my junior college days rooming just down the hall from Aunt Jo. Gerald Castleberry, a native of Toccopola, MS, has lived his life with an arm and leg disability and complicated his solitary existence recently by breaking his "good" ankle. I'm not certain I remember what he told me regarding the break, but I got the impression the doctor's weren't able to do much for him, and he's now in a wheelchair. (I'll listen better, the next time I talk to him.)

I visited Aunt Jo on the eve of Christmas Eve and learned that both James and Peggy had a case of the flu and she would not be able to go to their house on Christmas Day. Whereupon, she informed me that she expected me to take her to my house for Christmas. I questioned her as to her ability to make the trip in a car, and she insisted that, with my son-in-law and me helping, she could make it.

Barbara and I stopped in to check on her on Christmas Eve and learned she was confined to bed in order to reduce the swelling in her ankles and right arm. Her spirits were low as she told us she wouldn't be able to come to our house for Christmas. However, we assured her we would visit and bring her a plate of food following our Christmas dinner.

We talked to one of the nurses on our way out, and were advised that it would be better for Aunt Jo and the rest of us for her to remain in Sunshine this Christmas. Our visit on Christmas Day was sufficient this year for Sunshine's newest resident this year.

Bodock Beau The Day After Christmas

Christmas is gone for this year, but not without a trace. In fact, here are some examples to help us remember what a great time we had.

'Twas The Day After Christmas

'Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurtin' even the mouse.
The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.
Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor,
While upstairs the family continued to snore.

And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans,
Went into the kitchen and started to clean.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little white truck, with an oversized mirror.

The driver was smiling, so lively and grand;
The patch on his jacket said "U.S. POSTMAN."
With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox.
Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.

Bill after bill, after bill, they still came.
Whistling and shouting he called them by name:
"Now Dillard's, now Broadway's, now Penny's and Sears.
Here's Robinson's, Levitz's and Target's and Mervyn's.
To the tip of your limit, every store, every mall,
Now charge away--charge away--charge away all!"

He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work.
He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.
He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road,
Driving much faster with just half a load.

Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer,
"ENJOY WHAT YOU BOUGHT.......
YOU'LL BE PAYING ALL YEAR!!"

Submitted by Jason Carter

Christmas With Louise - Edited Version

As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowing, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush
hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. I settled for "Lovable Louise." To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her pantyhose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked.

My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."

"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. Where are her clothes?"

My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair, and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room and sat in the car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember. Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health. Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.

Submitted by Rhea Palmer

Share this article with a friend.

Home