Saint Clause

A nomad prayer on a desert in Africa. The phot...

A nomad prayer on a desert in Africa.

In every relationship there is a Saint Clause. The compassion of giving and sharing is a characteristic of mankind that should endure year round, not just at Christmas time.

When I was growing up, we never turned a soul away and my mother taught us that whatever we had, we shared with those who didn’t have any whether it was our food or a favor – babysitting they couldn’t pay for, wood to burn for warmth or whatever – we knew that kindness was what got one another through.

So, while the coffers of the entitled swell and gala events are making headlines, I sure hope that the Saint Clause is in motion behind the scenes. Not everyone who is wealthy even realizes their wealth nor do some believe in giving. I remember discussing this years ago and an elderly man at the table with us said, “You wanna be sucker?”  

Obviously jaded, he had more than enough to last him many lifetimes yet was so miserly, I swear to God the Greengrinch Meanlines aged his face so badly one could plant potatoes in those furrows. Gone now, he couldn’t take it with him, and didn’t make any difference to anyone while alive. The Saint Clause can be a very sad thing when not invoked while living.

Some are so miserly the only way they will give a thing at all is if they are getting something.

How old were they when they lost their compassion, I wonder.

How old will they be when they realize that compassion is one of the characteristics illustrated in the animal world daily where a dog may nurse an orphaned kitten alongside her pups… while humans pass one another invisibly on the street.

Yes, everybody has their hand out. Yes, it seems like we give and give and then have to give some more. Because we do. We are human beings. Aren’t we…

This is where the Saint Clause comes in. If we stop caring, we will stop giving and if we cannot give, not because we have nothing to give, but because we are miserly, I do believe we have broken the human Saint Clause of life.

To me, there would be nothing worse than dying and leaving behind an estate of considerable value that will go to relatives I never knew – or the government where no relatives exist any more – while people I know and know of in my own communities are wanting and needing help. 

My wish for this Christmas is for balance. May those who have none find some over the holidays and not forget the whole remainder of the year as if hurting people don’t exist the other 364 days.

Humanity. Yes.


Merry Christmas, Everyone.

The photo probably taken by Kazimierz Nowak (1897-1937) during his trip through Africa – a Polish traveller, correspondent and photographer. Probably the first man in the world who crossed Africa alone from the North to the South and from the South to the North (from 1931 to 1936; on foot, by bicycle and canoe). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The second Christmas: OH Boy!

photo (c) whisperbreath angelmann all rights reservedTRIGGER/LANGUAGE WARNING!

In a blink they had moved clear across the country with nothing but a handful of record albums and the clothes on their backs. Everything and everyone they had ever known was gone. Okay, it wasn’t a blink but it sure felt like a blink to Joey, the second born triplet, who would celebrate his 12th birthday with his brothers in a prairie restaurant eating cereal out of mini cardboard boxes lined with wax paper to keep the milk from soaking through. It was one of the best birthday memories ever for Joey.

Janine was the only other sibling the boys had. She was older, they’d left her and her husband behind in Vancouver when their parents decided to move from the west coast of Canada to the east coast in an attempt to save their ever failing marriage from wounds old, wounds fresh and many new wounds still to come.

When their father left a year after arriving for Prince Edward Island with a new wife and a baby already on the way, the triplets and their mother remained in the two bedroom cottage by the Atlantic Ocean.  Janine came to visit them the second Christmas and Joey knew she was worried about the kids because their father had already left… moving had not saved the marriage. It had not saved anything at all.

Or anybody.

At thirteen the three boys stood slightly different heights but looked the same, their fair hair and blue eyes the Martin hallmark inherited from their handsome daddy. Joey, Jimmy and Jack they were named at birth with no middle names. Jimmy was quiet and took his time doing things. Jack was loud but didn’t like doing much of anything. Joey felt like he had to do everything he could to help their mother, a petite woman with a fire in her that could fuel several women. Her brunette hair set her apart from the boys but their freckles joined them all together and even as Joey reached for the brand new extension cord his mom had just purchased, their hands warmly joined in the love that kept them, altogether.

“For fucksake, the son-of-a-bitchin’ thing won’t jam in there. Those money grubbing bastards down at the hardware store are gonna get a piece of my mind. Goddamn motherfuckers. I’ll take it back for you Mom. Who do those cocksuckers think they are? They are not gonna fuck up our Christmas tree lights!” Joey said as he grabbed the extension cord and started for the door, his coat half on when the chill wind blew in at them.

“Wait up, Joey, I want to go with you,” Janine said.

They trudged in silence for a few minutes while Janine thought about how to talk to Joey. She could see the differences between them already, his thin mittens, her leather gloves and her heart fairly lurched at the fact that her little brother’s lives had grown considerably tougher than hers had been.

“Where did you learn to swear like that?” Janine asked Joey as they walked the slippery coast line toward the hardware store in town, “You shouldn’t be swearing like that around Mom, you know.”

“Who the hell do you think I learned it from?” Joey asked.

Janine fell silent. She wished she could just rewind, replay and bring everyone back home with her to the Pacific Ocean.  Sure a person could drown in the salt chuck just like any other drink. At least it was a sea the kids knew, an anchor from the storms that Janine knew she had no power to stay.

“It’s okay, Joey, I know how to swear, too, if I need to.”

Janine tucked her shoulder length hair inside her fake fur hat with the dangling pom pom ties that seemed so frivolous and useless to her now though she had so longed for this very hat before she bought it.

She put an arm around Joey’s shoulder before scooping up a snowball to toss his way but as usual, Joey was just too quick for her.  They laughed and carried on, snow spray from their game freezing fastly to their hats and jackets.

“Do you ever miss being back home by the Pacific?” Janine asked.

Joey wasn’t long answering his sister. He tipped his cap up to look her right in the eyes.

“People might think I don’t know much because I’m only thirteen. But I do know some things for sure. One ocean’s as good as another.


(c) AuroraMorealist