Stage Parents

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm.  The choir director, Shane Reed, is dating Audra Park, a young, single mother and member of the choir.  One recent Friday Shane went to pick her up for a date.  When she answered the door, she was laughing so hard tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes.

“Is it the shirt?” Shane asked.  He had bought his shirt a week before after being encouraged by a perky salesgirl, but he had suspected her compliments might not have been entirely genuine.

“What?  No,” Audra said.  “Look.”  She gestured into the apartment.  Her six-year-old son Tyler was singing a classic rock song into a microphone as his babysitter, Katie O’Donnell, accompanied him on a plastic guitar.  Tyler mimicked the rock star gyrations of animated musicians on the TV.  “It’s a video game,” Audra said, observing Shane’s confused expression.

“Tyler’s got a good voice,” Shane mused.  It wasn’t surprising – Audra was one of the best vocalists in the choir.  Clearly the apple had landed near the tree.

“Yeah,” Audra agreed.  “And some pretty impressive dance moves.  Shall we go?”

Shane thought about Tyler’s voice on the drive to the restaurant.  He’d been looking for a way to bond with the boy since he and Audra started dating.  Over dessert he asked, “Do you think Tyler would be interested in joining a children’s choir?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Audra said.  She’d also been looking for a way for her son and boyfriend to get closer.

Shane announced the children’s choir during the next church service, noting that he had posted a sign-up sheet for kids between the ages of four and twelve in the hall by the Sunday school rooms.  Audra added Tyler’s name as soon as service was over.  Tyler couldn’t understand why he would want to go to choir practice when there were perfectly good video games to be played at home, but being six he was forced to accede to his mom’s wishes.

Jill Boyer had not planned to sign her four-year-old daughter Mary up for the choir even though she was just inside the lower end of the age range.  Mary didn’t usually respond well to the “organized” part of organized activities.  But when Jill retrieved Mary from Sunday school, they passed Mary’s classmate Sierra and her father, Arthur, by the sign-up sheet.

“Would you like to be in a children’s choir?” Arthur was asking Sierra.

“Oh, yes, Daddy!” Sierra shouted, jumping up and down and clapping her hands with glee.  Arthur wrote her name below Tyler’s.

Mary saw this and asked, “Can I be in the choir, too?”

“It’ll be a great experience,” Arthur said as Jill considered her response.  “Sierra has a beautiful voice.  I know most children this age can’t really carry a tune, but I suspect Sierra might have perfect pitch.  I’ve been thinking I should get her a voice coach.  She could probably be a professional singer.”

Mary was tugging on Jill’s pant leg.  “Please, Mommy, can I be in the choir? Please, please, please, please…”

“Sure,” Jill said and snatched the pen from Arthur.  “I’ve always suspected you had perfect pitch, too.”

Of course Jill suspected no such thing.  But according to Arthur, Sierra was the most glorious little human being with whom God had blessed the world since the times of Jesus.  It got on Jill’s nerves.

Shane decided Easter would be a good opportunity for the children’s choir to make their debut.  He planned to have them sing that classic children’s Easter hymn, Morning Has Broken.

Shane had never conducted a children’s choir but he figured he could handle it.  After all, many of the adult choir members often behaved like children.  Sure, Arthur lobbied him to give Sierra a solo, but hardly an adult choir rehearsal went by without someone complaining about Shane’s choice of soloist.  And Arthur was easier to handle since Shane simply declared that there would be no solos in the children’s choir.

Of course none of the adult choir members had ever spilled juice on the sheet music, or broken into tears after skinning their knee, or started an eraser fight.  Mary did all of that in the first fifteen minutes of rehearsal. 

Shane had arranged the kids by height, the older and tallest kids in the middle of the back row, and the younger, shorter kids in the front row and to the sides.  Mary, being one of the shortest, was on the far left.  However, after the eraser fight, Shane decided to move her to the center.  He enlisted the girl directly behind her, twelve-year-old Becky Goodhart, to help keep Mary in line.  Shane’s plan worked for rehearsal, but was to have unintended consequences for the performance.

Unlike Mary, Tyler was quite well behaved all through rehearsal.  Which meant that by the time Audra arrived to pick him up, Shane realized he’d barely spoken to the boy.  His plan for bonding was not working out as he’d hoped.

On Easter morning, Mary talked excitedly about the impending performance all through breakfast.  Jill may have signed Mary up out of annoyance with Arthur, but now she was delighted by her daughter’s enthusiasm and commitment. After a thirty minute search, she located the family’s camcorder in Mary’s room where she had been using it to film a movie with her dolls.  Jill scraped a wad of gum off the camera and slipped it into her purse.  Maybe she would finally get some video of Mary that she could show the grandparents without having to edit out the embarrassing parts.

Arthur also planned to videotape Sierra.  This was no surprise to anyone.  Sierra’s short life to date was one of the most documented in the history of mankind.  Carefully labeled DVDs of Sierra occupied a whole shelf of the living room bookcase.  As the kids marched out to take their place for their performance, Arthur set up a tripod in the center aisle.

Jill had taken a spot on the opposite side of the aisle.  She hadn’t brought along a tripod, but she steadied her camera on the back of the pew in front of her.  A bit of gum she’d missed helped hold it in place.  And to her delight, Mary’s central position gave her a nice, unobstructed shot.

Sierra’s position at the far edge of the choir did not offer such a clear shot to Arthur.  He wondered what Shane was thinking putting the most talented vocalist off to the side like that.  “Sierra,” he hissed as the kids were lining up.  She looked over and he gestured for her to move toward the center.

Shane had not seen Arthur’s gesture and did not know why Sierra was leaving her assigned spot.  “Sierra,” he whispered, “get back to your place.”  Sierra returned to the edge of the choir.  Shane signaled organist Walter Tibble to begin.

Arthur glared at Shane’s back.  The man was clearly an idiot unqualified to lead a choir of dogs.  He motioned urgently for Sierra to move back toward the center.  Sierra was a little confused by the contradictory messages, but she obeyed her father’s latest instruction.  Shane tried to motion her back again, but the little girl’s gaze was fixed on her father.

Meanwhile, Jill had zoomed in for a close-up of Mary.  Her daughter looked like an angel.  This was uncommon – usually Mary seemed to represent the other team in the divine rivalry.  Suddenly, a carefully coifed head of hair topped by a pink bow filled the viewfinder.

Jill zoomed out.  Sierra had come to a stop directly in front of Mary.  Jill waved to get Mary’s attention.  Mary waved back.  Jill motioned for her to step out from behind Sierra.  Mary tried to obey, but Becky, ever alert to her mission, pulled Mary back into place.

Jill looked over at Arthur and hissed, “Would you please get your daughter to go back to her spot?”

“But I can’t see her way over there,” Arthur whispered back.

“Well, I can’t see Mary over your daughter’s head,” Jill replied.

“Then maybe your daughter should move,” Arthur snapped.

“Maybe your daughter should learn to cooperate with others,” Jill shot back.

“Mommy, shh!” Mary shouted from the front.  “We’re singing.”

The congregation laughed.  Jill flushed with embarrassment.  Arthur gloated until Shane took Sierra’s arm and guided her back to her proper place.

The children finished their song without further incident.  As they walked off, Sierra and Mary held hands.  Jill was proud to show the video of the performance to the grandparents, but only after editing out the part where Mary had shushed her.

After service was over, Shane noticed Tyler going up to the youth group room.  He followed and found Tyler playing a football game on the youth group’s video game system.  “Can I play, too?” Shane asked.

“Sure,” Tyler said.  They spent the next hour bonding.  When the game was over, Shane was quite happy, even though he lost seventy-three to fourteen.

Rock Around the Flock – Part Two

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Read Part One

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. In an effort to attract more teens and young adults, Pastor Henry O’Donnell had recruited several congregants to form a church rock band. The hope was the modern music would appeal to a younger generation more than the usual dusty old hymns.

Two of the recruits for this band – lead singer Audra Park and guitarist Ian Wells – were excellent musicians. The rest of the group consisted of forty-four year old Missy Moore on drums, Kevin Boyer attempting to relive his high school garage band days on rhythm guitar, and church secretary Tammy Billings reluctantly rounding out the group on her upright bass.

Most of the congregation was skeptical of the idea, particularly the choir who had been replaced by the rock band and the three older women known collectively as the Little Old Ladies. But Pastor O’Donnell urged everyone to give the new music a chance. If it worked, the pews would be filled with new, young members, he promised.

The church already had two regular teen attendees – Pastor O’Donnell’s fifteen-year-old daughter Katie and her friend Tabitha. They were simultaneously intrigued and skeptical about the rock band. But O’Donnell was pleased to see them in the front pew on the Sunday of the band’s debut. It seemed an indication that his plan was working.

The band’s rehearsals had been a little rough around the edges. Missy was certainly an enthusiastic drummer but her beat tended to wander around a bit. Kevin was gradually shaking the rust off his guitar skills but frequently became so distracted by his attempts to strike just the right rock and roll pose that he missed changes. And Tammy’s bass style was more Bach than rock. But Ian and Audra managed to hold the whole thing together most of the time. On the morning of their debut Ian wasn’t sure they were ready, but neither was he sure they could significantly improve by delaying.

The band gathered in the choir room before service. Missy was the last to arrive and she made quite an entrance when she did. She was decked out in a leather mini-skirt, fishnet stockings and a red bustier. Her pale flesh bulged out around the edges of the bustier in a way that Ian thought would probably upset the congregation a lot more than the change in musical style.

As shocked as they were by Missy’s appearance she was equally shocked by their rather preppie attire. “We’re supposed to be a rock band!” she wailed. “You all look like you work in a department store!”

“Or like we’re going to church,” Tammy replied.

“I thought the point was to make the church more rock and roll,” Missy countered.

“Well, there’s nothing any of us can do about what we’re wearing now,” Audra said, trying not to stare at Missy. “We’re on.”

When the band entered the chancel two minutes before the start of service the congregation immediately fell silent, except for Katie and Tabitha in the front pew, who had to bury their faces in their arms to contain their laughter. Pastor O’Donnell stared at Missy and for the first time began to question the wisdom of his idea.

The plan was for the band to open service with their first song. Everyone in the sanctuary leaned forward, including the choir members and the Little Old Ladies. Even the most adamant opponents of rock music in church were still curious to see how the band would do.

Missy tapped her drumsticks together to count out the beat and they launched into their first number, an upbeat if rather generic piece of Christian light rock. Any hope Ian had that they would rise to the occasion was quickly dashed. Missy’s adrenaline caused her to pick a tempo half again as fast as they’d practiced. Kevin had a hard time keeping up so he compensated by playing louder. The congregation slumped back in their pews. Their curiosity had been satisfied and now they were simply trying to get through the audio onslaught.

The band would have been better off just trying to get through it themselves. But Kevin noticed the lack of enthusiasm coming from the pews and decided what they needed was more stage presence. He began channeling the guitar heroes of his youth and tromped across the stage, head flailing.

The guitar heroes of his youth had probably practiced their stage moves, however, to assure that they wouldn’t make the kind of blunder Kevin made. As he danced backwards behind Ian during an instrumental portion of the song, he tripped on Ian’s guitar cord, simultaneously unplugging it and sending Kevin tumbling onto his backside.

Both guitars fell silent leaving only Missy and Tammy to carry the song. Missy tried to save things by launching into a prolonged drum solo. A few members of the congregation began to wonder if Missy was having some kind of seizure. Even more congregants discovered an urgent need to visit the restroom and slipped out of the sanctuary.

Pastor O’Donnell hung his head sadly. But through it all Katie and Tabitha thrust their hands in the air and swayed in time with the music.

Ian got his guitar plugged back in, Kevin regained his feet and mercifully the song came to an end. However Missy made a rather overly dramatic flourish as she struck the last symbol chime and heard a ripping sound from the back of her bustier. As Katie and Tabitha clapped wildly and the rest of the congregation stared in stunned silence, Missy slipped off the drum stool and backed out through the rear chancel doors, her hands holding the bustier precariously in place.

Missy returned in time for the next song wearing a choir robe, which pretty much everyone agreed was an improvement. The remainder of the band’s songs in the service went comparatively better than the first. But only comparatively.

After the service ended Katie and Tabitha ran up to Pastor O’Donnell. “That was awesome, Dad!” Katie said.

“Yeah,” Tabitha agreed. “Our friends will definitely come to church to see that!”

Then the two girls burst into laughter.

The following week marked the choir’s triumphant return with a selection of dusty old hymns.

Ghost Bells

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Every Sunday the choir meets an hour before church to warm up. Last Sunday new choir member Audra Park arrived ten minutes late dragging her six-year-old son Tyler behind her.

“I’m sorry,” Audra told Choir Director Shane Reed. “We encountered a little problem on the drive over.”

“We saw a bank robbery,” Tyler said, “and had to help the police catch the criminals.”

“Really,” Shane asked. “You caught bank robbers?”

“Yeah, right,” Audra laughed. “Actually, we got stuck behind a fender bender. Tyler has a bit of an active imagination.”

“Of course,” Shane chuckled. “I was just playing along.” He quickly busied himself with some sheet music hoping nobody noticed the redness he could feel in his cheeks.

Audra sent Tyler down to the Sunday school rooms while she joined the choir for the rest of the warm-up.

After running through the hymns they were going to perform that morning, the choir headed back to the choir room to put on their robes. Shane watched Audra as she checked her long, silky black hair in the mirror.

Shane had met Audra when he was volunteering at the Normal food pantry on Christmas. Audra had been unemployed for several months and brought Tyler to the pantry for a Christmas dinner that was nicer than she could afford to provide at home. After hearing Audra sing carols Shane invited her to join the church choir. Audra’s lovely voice wasn’t the only reason he was interested in her. Shane was divorced.

Sixty-two year-old Del Winslow, a long time member of the choir, sidled up to Shane. “The new girl sure is pretty, isn’t she,” Del said.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Shane replied.

“Single too, I understand.”

“Is she?”

“Why don’t you ask her out?”

“Um, well,” Shane stammered.

“Come on,” Del chuckled. “It’s clear you like her. And she obviously likes you, too.”

“Do you think so?”

“She’s been looking at you the same way you look at her. Go on, go ask her out.”

“Maybe after church,” Shane said.

Downstairs at about this time four-year-old Mary Boyer arrived at the classroom for the Guppies pre-school Sunday school class. She found Tyler building an elaborate city out of blocks in the corner. “Who are you?” she asked.

“My name’s Tyler,” he replied.

“How old are you?”

“Six.”

Mary put her hands on her hips. “You’re not supposed to be in this class. You’re too old.”

“I was just checking to see if the ghost was in here,” he told her.

“What ghost?”

“Didn’t you know? There’s a ghost in the church. My mom is a ghost hunter and I help her. That’s why we’re here. To catch the ghost. But it’s a secret so don’t tell anyone.”

“How do you catch a ghost?” Mary asked, her eyes wide.

“You throw salt on it,” Tyler said.

Just then Karen Winslow, the Guppies’ teacher and Del’s wife, noticed them. “There you are, Tyler,” she said. “You need to go to the Goldfish room across the hall.”

“Okay,” Tyler replied. Then he whispered to Mary, “Let me know if you hear the ghost. You can tell when it’s around because it carries a bell.”

“Gotcha,” Mary whispered back.

All during the church service Shane watched Audra and thought about what Del said. Once during the sermon Audra glanced over at him and Shane quickly looked away. His eyes met Del’s, who gave him a wink and a grin. Shane blushed.

After the service the congregation gathered in the Social Hall for coffee hour. Shane got a cup of coffee and a couple of cookies and found Audra. He made a little nervous small talk trying to work up the courage to ask her out. Del sauntered by and gave Shane an encouraging nudge in the back with his elbow.

Shane opened his mouth to suggest that he and Audra have dinner some time, but before he could speak choir member Celia Simmons trundled over. “Excuse me,” Celia said. “I have something to give Audra. I was cleaning out my pantry and found some canned fruit I’m not going to use. I thought you might like it.” Celia held out a plastic grocery bag.

“That’s not necessary,” Audra said, forcing a smile. She wished she hadn’t met Shane the way she did. She knew Celia meant well, but it was embarrassing having everyone think of her as a charity case.

“Nonsense,” Celia replied. “I know how expensive canned fruit is these days. Frankly, it’s a travesty. What these politicians are doing to our economy…”

“Thank you,” Audra said, grabbing the bag. She thought accepting the handout would be better than enduring a long political speech.

Meanwhile, across the room Mary found Tyler sitting on a couch drinking a cup of juice. “Look,” she said, holding out her hands. They were full of little salt packets. “I got these from the kitchen so I can help you catch the ghost.”

“Good work,” Tyler said. “We’d better open them up now so we’re ready when we find it.”

The two kids diligently tore open all the tiny packets and dumped the contents into their pockets. When they each had a pocket full of salt they set off to look for the ghost.

Audra might have successfully curtailed Celia’s rant about the economy, but Celia had simply shifted to a rant about the post office. Audra spotted Tyler heading out of the social hall with Mary. “Excuse me,” she said, “I think I better find out what my son is up to.”

Celia nodded and shifted her full attention to Shane. Shane watched Audra go down the hall, silently cursing himself for missing his opportunity.

And that’s when Del came to the rescue. “Shane,” he said with a wink, “I think Pastor O’Donnell was looking for you.”

“Thank you,” Shane said. He hurried after Audra as Del engaged Celia in a conversation about the sub-par performance of the city’s snowplows.

Tyler and Mary had decided the church library would be a good place to start their ghost hunt. “We should hide so we don’t scare it away,” Tyler said. Mary nodded. She wasn’t sure why the ghost would be scared of them, but Tyler was the expert and she didn’t want to expose her ignorance. The two kids crawled behind an overstuffed chair.

A few moments later Audra poked her head into the library and called out Tyler’s name.

Tyler peeked out from behind the chair. “Go away, Mom,” he said, “We’re hunting ghosts.”

At this point several things happened in quick succession. Shane had seen Audra go into the library and followed her. As he entered, his cell phone rang. His ringtone was a peal of bells, which he found ironically amusing. But Mary heard the bells and assumed the ghost had arrived. She jumped out from behind the chair and hurled a handful of salt toward the ringing. The salt hit Shane in the face, temporarily blinding him. He stumbled back, banging his head on the doorway.

“Shane,” Audra cried as he fell to his knees.

“I’m okay,” he assured her as he swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “At least, I will be when I can see again.”

“Sorry Mr. Reed,” Mary said. “I thought you were the ghost.”

“Okay, enough playing,” Audra said. “There are no ghosts in the church.”

“Good. We must have chased it away,” Tyler declared.

Audra helped Shane to his feet. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, trying to look suave despite the tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Were you looking for me?” She asked.

Shane glanced down at the two kids. “Um, no,” he lied. “I was just getting a book.”

“Oh. Okay,” Audra said. “Well, I think it’s time for Tyler and me to get home. Come on, kids.”

Audra took Tyler and Mary by the hand and led them back out to the Social Hall.

Shane went to the kitchen and wrapped some ice in a dishrag for the bump that was growing on the back of his head. Del found him there.

“So,” Del said. “I saw Audra leave. Did you ask her out?”

“Not exactly,” Shane said. “I was foiled by a ghost.”

Del just shook his head. He simply did not understand the younger generation.

Bart the Belfry Bat

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Like most churches, this one has a bell tower, though instead of a bell it contains speakers that broadcast a recording of bells. Recently the tower has acquired some new residents – a family of bats. And Bart is the most curious bat in this family.

Bart isn’t his real name of course. He has a bat name. But bats communicate at a pitch too high for people to hear which makes their names difficult to transcribe. So let’s just call him Bart.

When Bart awoke on the first night in his new home, he decided to check out the neighborhood. He skimmed along the eaves of the church, snapping up the occasional passing mosquito for breakfast.

He spotted a small glowing red light and headed over to investigate. It was Walter Tibble, the church’s organist, who had stepped outside to have a cigarette. Smoking was a vice Walter had picked up in college and never shaken. Not that he’d really tried all that hard. Walter was now forty-eight, tall and thin. He wandered around the lawn as he smoked, enjoying the solitude and quiet.

And then the automatic sprinklers came on.

Walter muttered, “gosh darn it” under his breath – cursing was not one of his vices – and scurried for the door, tossing his cigarette into the scraggly bushes growing along the wall. He knew it annoyed Pastor O’Donnell to find his butts there, but Walter didn’t care. He’d suggested they get one of those trashcans with an ash receptacle on top, but O’Donnell refused saying it might encourage others to smoke and, the pastor always had to add, smoking was a filthy habit. Walter decided if O’Donnell was going to be that way he could just deal with butts in his bushes.

Bart didn’t understand any of this, of course. Very few bats take up smoking. But Bart’s curiosity compelled him to follow Roger through the door and into the church.

Roger went down a hall into a room blazing with light. Being a bat, Bart didn’t much care for light so he broke off to explore on his own. But a few minutes later Bart’s sharp bat hearing picked up a lovely harmony coming from the bright room. He doubled back to check it out.

The music Bart heard was the choir at their regular Wednesday night rehearsal in the choir room. Bart flew through the door, gliding around the ceiling in gentle arcs in time to the music. After a couple of verses a plump woman spotted him and began making a noise that was louder and in a different key than the others. This was Missy Moore who was not a fan of bats.

Bart decided he wasn’t a fan of hers either. Not only was she ruining the lovely music, her screeching hurt his sensitive ears. And it seemed to Bart that the rest of the choir was just as annoyed at Missy’s harsh wail since they all stopped singing and began dashing chaotically around the room. It didn’t appear that the harmonious tunes were going to resume any time soon so Bart figured he might as well move on.

He found his way to the social hall, which was pleasantly big and shadowy. After exploring a bit he stopped for a rest in the rafters. He had seen all kinds of interesting things but he would need to focus on finding more food pretty soon. He was getting quite hungry.

Suddenly the lights came on, nearly blinding Bart. Del Winslow, a heavyset man in a choir robe, entered carrying a broom and looked around. Bart didn’t know what Del was up to and didn’t really care. He flew into the adjacent kitchen to get out of the light.

There Bart made a discovery that pleased his grumbling stomach. Someone had left a piece of cake on the counter during coffee hour the previous Sunday. Now of course bats don’t eat cake, but they do eat flies. The abandoned cake had attracted a whole swarm of those. What a nice housewarming gift, thought Bart as he enjoyed the insect buffet.

The door to the kitchen burst open and the light went on. Bart instinctively flew up to the ceiling. Del Winslow stomped in with his broom. Del spotted Bart and swung the broom at him. Bart darted away, indignant. This was hardly welcoming behavior!

Bart bobbed around the ceiling staying just out of reach of the flailing broom. Then one of Del’s swings struck the overhead light, knocking the plastic cover off and shattering the bulb. The room went dark again. Bart settled on the counter as Del made a hasty exit. That explained it, Bart thought. The big man wasn’t after Bart at all; he just hated the light too.

Bart finished off the last few flies who hadn’t beat it to safety in the commotion then decided he’d better go back outside where the hunting was better. He flew out into the social hall and saw Del seated on a couch catching his breath. Bart was careful to stay up near the ceiling where Del wouldn’t notice him. He was not quite sure what to make of the man just yet.

A couple of the windows were cracked open so Bart used one of them to make his exit. As he flew out, though, he smelled something funny. There was smoke rising from the bushes near the front door. Bart went to investigate.

It seemed Walter’s cigarette had landed on a dried leaf that was caught in the bush and ignited it. The small flame had grown hot enough to spread to some of the green leaves around it. Bart didn’t quite understand what fire was but he could feel the heat and his instincts told him it wasn’t good. Only he didn’t really know what to do about it.

Then he got an idea. Maybe the big man inside could take care of it.

Bart flew back in the window and buzzed Del’s head. It certainly got Del’s attention. Del leaped to his feet and chased after Bart who flew back out the window.

However Del didn’t follow. He simply closed the window and walked back toward the choir room. So Bart flew in through a different window and did a couple of loops around Del’s head. Del chased Bart back to the second window where Bart made his escape again. This time, though, Del paused before closing the window. He smelled something.

Del came out the front door to investigate and saw the small fire in the bush. He yelped and quickly beat the flames out with the broom. Then he cupped his hands and caught water from the sprinklers to thoroughly douse the bush. Once he was certain everything was out, he looked up into the night sky and said, “Thank you, bat. You might have just saved the church.”

Bart was perched on the roof above him and would have told Del he was quite welcome except of course Bart couldn’t speak English.

Del went back inside. A few moments later the music resumed in the choir room, drifting softly out to where Bart was gliding above the spray of the sprinklers hunting his food. He began bobbing back and forth in time to the music.

This was going to be a pretty good home, Bart thought.

A Bleak Midwinter Afternoon

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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.