Posted: Monday, 22 December 2008 11:51AM
And So This Is Christmas
Steve Corbett Reporting
Monday, December 22, 2008
When out on the street there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
The clock read 2:30 a.m. The thermometer early Sunday morning hovered in the teens.
Would I have to call the cops before somebody got hurt?
Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
Actually all I had to do was part the Scranton lace curtains to see the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow give the luster of midday to objects below.
And there he stood in the middle of the street waving his arms and shouting instruction to two elves who trailed him.
St. Nick – or maybe just some lug named Nick or Nicky or Nickles O’Malley or worse from Dunmore, Minooka or elsewhere in hard coal country - had lost his way and was now sliding west on East Gibson Street.
The elves were trouble – especially if video of this unholy trio showed up on YouTube and Santa had to explain the scene to Mrs. Claus.
Neither young woman seemed to mind the cold.
One wore a black leather mini-skirt, black stockings you would never hang by the chimney with care, and knee-high leather go-go boots. The other wore similar evening wear as she sashayed down the middle of the snowy street like she was touring Miami Beach. Neither wore a winter coat. Maybe they had consumed enough hot cocoa or the egg nog to warm their hearts and other body parts during this festive night out.
Santa was now doing a slippery little dance. Dressed in his trademark red and white outfit and hat, he shook his belly and his head like a punchy fighter who had just taken a few too many shots to the noggin in round one.
Both women also wore matching Santa hats as they trudged heavy-footed down the snowy, icy street.
Jack’s Brew House at the other end of the street has been closed for a year. Maybe they had been partying at Brennan’s on Prescott or perhaps at a house party.
I know how hard it is to hail a taxi at this hour even when the fares don’t look like a Christmas accident waiting to happen. But even the most desperate cabbie might balk at picking up such a bubbly human holiday package.
Still, they seemed to be having a good and time. Nobody had developed frost bite. Santa was laughing and the women seemed sluggish, yet joyous.
No drunken screams pierced the air as has happened in the past. No thug was manhandling a woman. No drug dealer was selling dope on the corner. All was well in my Hill Section of my city.
So I shook my head and went back to bed.
Not five minutes went by until I was again throwing off the covers and charging the window.
This time, three uniformed Santas rolled out of an SUV parked at the corner of North Irving.
The first one raced across the street and lost his hat. The second faced the rear fender of the vehicle and caused me brief alarm as he looked at the tire with the wide eyes of a German Shepherd gazing fondly at a hydrant. Then common sense prevailed and he moved toward the apartment house with a look of urgency on his face.
The third Santa poured himself from the passenger seat. Finding his balance, he turned, adjusted his red pants and coat, and stood in the cold morning air wearing a numb look on his face.
This Santa was definitely ready for a long winter’s nap.
Suddenly I worried that the first Santa might come back with the elves. The Santa trio might make cracks to the elves about mistletoe. The first Santa would immediately take offense and the elves might start punching as well. The ruckus might wake up the little kids in the neighborhood and parents would have a terrible time trying to explain the red-nosed riot.
But the three party Santa buddies headed for home.
I knew that one of the young guys who lives in the apartment house had just returned from a tour in Iraq. I hoped that he was one of the laughing Santas and that he was reveling in having a great time being home for the holidays.
The neighborhood is a good home, too. How many other places can you find four burly Santas and two grinning elves on duty in the middle of the night?
Drawing the curtains closed, I jumped back into bed. Pulling the covers over my head, happiness and security cradled me in the soft warmth of the season.
“Happy Christmas to all and to all a goodnight,” I said to myself.
NOTE: This is my last column for 2008. I’m taking some time off.
Happy New Year.
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Corbett
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