Sunday, November 30, 2008

A Bleak Midwinter Afternoon

Hear the story read by the author

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. This year, choir director Shane Reed thought it would be nice for members of the choir to sing Christmas Carols at a local retirement home one Sunday after church.

When Shane asked for volunteers, Del Winslow quickly signed up. He was frequently the choir’s featured soloist and Del feared they just wouldn’t be up to snuff without him. He certainly didn’t want the good folks at the retirement home to hear a sub-par choir. On the day in question, however, he was regretting his decision. A freezing storm was coming in and it had started to snow. Del would have much rather spent the afternoon at home reading by the fire. But, a commitment was a commitment.

At 1 p.m. Shane herded his ten volunteer carolers into the church’s van. Del asked if Shane would like Del to drive as he had grown up in Pennsylvania and Shane was from the West Coast. Shane pointed out that he was from Seattle which did in fact get quite a bit of snow. Shane took the wheel, trying to ignore the ten back seat drivers.

The staff of the retirement home had set up an all-purpose room for the performance. It was to be kind of a mini-party. There was a brightly decorated tree, a table of sugar cookies and even a big bowl of eggnog. Chairs had been set up in a semi-circle facing one end of the room where Shane and his singers could perform.

The visitors chatted with the staff and enjoyed some cookies as residents of the home shuffled in. Del was a connoisseur of Christmas cookies and graded these a “B.” He was going back for his fourth cookie when a wiry little man with leathery skin elbowed him in the bicep harder than Del would have thought the fellow capable.

“Leave some for the geezers, kid,” the man said.

Del flushed. “Sorry. Do you want this one?”

The old guy cackled and smacked Del on the shoulder. Del almost dropped the cookie. “Nah,” the man said, “I’m watching my weight. Name’s Herman Vankowitz. I’m Jewish. I’m mainly here for the eggnog. I love eggnog.”

“I’m Del Winslow.”

“Good to meet you, Del. Hey, you know the hymn ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’?”

“Yes.”

“You guys going to sing it?”

“It wasn’t on our list, but I could see if our director has the music.”

“Ah, don’t bother. That hymn annoys me.”

Del shrugged and rejoined the other choir members. He nibbled his cookie slowly so he wouldn’t be tempted to go back for another.

A few minutes later, his attention was drawn to a commotion near the reception table. A staff member was arguing with Herman.

“You’ve had two cups of eggnog already, Herman,” the staff member said. “Give me that one.”

“It’s not for me,” Herman protested. “It’s for my new friend, Del.”

Herman scurried over to Del and handed him the cup. “Here you go, buddy,” Herman said. “Just like you asked.” Then Herman gave the staff member a big, suspiciously innocent grin.

The staff member raised an eyebrow. Herman elbowed Del again. “Drink up, buddy,” Herman said through his grin.

Del decided to help the old guy out. He took a big gulp of the eggnog.

And almost choked. It was very liberally spiked with brandy.

“Good stuff, eh?” Herman said.

Del nodded, his eyes watering. The staff member didn’t look entirely convinced, but she returned to her post anyway.

Herman punched Del playfully in the arm. “Thanks. You saved my bacon.”

“Here’s your eggnog,” Del said.

“You keep it. I wouldn’t want to get your germs. Us geezers have to be careful of stuff like that.”

“It’s a little heavy for me,” Del said with a meaningful look.

“Ah, I get it. You’re a lightweight. Okay, give it here. We learned to hold our booze in the Navy.”

Del bristled. He’d been in the Army and wasn’t about to let some pint-sized sailor show him up. Del downed the eggnog in a single gulp and handed Herman the empty cup.

“Well, well. Maybe you’re not as soft as you look,” Herman said. “Care for another?”

“Bring it on,” Del replied.

“Okay, but you better get it this time.”

Del retrieved two more cups of eggnog and met Herman in a corner behind a knot of people out of view of the staff members. Herman drained off about an inch of his eggnog, then topped it off from a small flask he had tucked in his pocket. Del followed suit, but drained off an inch and a half of his eggnog before spiking it.

“Your eyes are watering,” Herman commented after they’d downed their beverages.

“I think I inhaled some nutmeg,” Del told him, wiping at his eyes with one hand while using the other to steady himself against the wall.

And then it was time to sing. The choir went through a medley of songs, ending with Del doing his classic solo on “Silent Night,” accompanied by Shane on the piano. Del was feeling a little buzzed from the brandy, but he knew the song inside and out.

Then, in the middle of the second verse, the tender mood was interrupted by a noise like a chainsaw cutting through scrap metal. Del raised his voice in a vain attempt to drown out the racket while trying to determine where it was coming from. When he finally located the source, he was not surprised to see that it was Herman Vankowitz snoring in the back row.

The event finished up around 4:00 and the choir members headed out to the van. A good two inches of new snow had fallen while they were inside. As Shane tried to back the van out of its parking place, he accidentally went off the edge of the asphalt. The tires spun in the snow, kicking up rooster tails of mud.

“Put it in low,” one of the back seat drivers said.

“Don’t give it so much gas,” another instructed.

“Back up, then go forward,” a third offered.

The collective wisdom from the rear of the van was of no use. They were stuck. “Someone’s going to have to get out and push,” Shane said.

Del’s head was spinning a little but he dutifully took a spot at the right corner of the van. Missy Moore moved to the driver’s seat so Shane could add his muscle to the effort. “Give it a little gas,” Shane called out.

Missy did, and mud sprayed up into Del’s face.

“A little less gas,” Del said as he spat out wet gravel.

Missy tried again. The pushers strained. Del leaned into the van giving it all he could.

And the next thing he knew he was flat on his back, looking up at Shane and the other choir members. And Herman.

“What happened,” Del asked.

“You passed out,” Shane told him. “Are you okay? Maybe we should see if there’s a doctor inside.”

“I think it was just the eggnog,” Del said.

Herman coughed loudly and gave Del a pointed look.

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Del lied.

“Oh. Well, just stay there and catch your breath while we get the van out,” Shane said.

“Let me help,” Herman said.

“That’s okay, we’ve got it,” Shane replied, running his eyes over Herman’s skinny body.

Del and Herman watched as Shane and the other men pushed at the back of the van. It was only digging in deeper. Finally, Herman could take it no more. He strode up and put his shoulder against the back doors. Veins bulged out ominously in his neck.

But the van popped free almost immediately.

“Thanks,” Shane said to Herman and shook his hand.

“My pleasure,” Herman replied. “Hey, before you go, let me take Del inside and get him cleaned up. He’s soaked.”

Shane agreed and Herman led Del in through a side door and to his room. It was a double room. Herman’s roommate lay in the bed by the window hooked up to a bunch of machines. “He’s in a coma,” Herman told Del, as he opened the door to the small private bathroom.

When Del was finished cleaning up, he came out and thanked Herman for his hospitality. “Could I ask you a favor?” Herman said. “My roommate’s a Christian. His favorite carol is ‘In the Bleak Midwinter.’ He used to hum it constantly during the holidays. Drove me nuts. Would you mind singing it for him? You said you know it.”

Del was taken aback, but he readily agreed. He sang the hymn in his deep, creamy baritone to the comatose gentleman as a tear worked its way down Herman’s right cheek.

When Del was finished, Herman thanked him and shook his hand. “See you next year,” Herman said.

“Have some of that special eggnog ready for me,” Del replied with a wink. Then he headed out to join the others for the ride back to the church. It had been a pretty good way to spend a wintry afternoon, Del thought.

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