A Christmas Story
I guess I can’t really complain. I’ve been blessed. I had it all at one time—a house, a beauty of a pickup truck, the wife and kids, the dogs. A job that paid well enough. I always had cash in my wallet. And let me tell you, I was generous with my family, gave lots to friends in need. And then. Then. Then it all turned sour. I lost it all, everyone, everything. I’m not saying I’m innocent. I screwed up, I know that now.
You’ve probably seen me on the streets. You kids, maybe you gave me some change, a bagel, some coffee. Maybe you were afraid of me. I don’t blame you. I’d be afraid of me. I mean, I’ve been pretty gross looking—dirty, ugly beard. I know I smelled bad.
But can I tell you about something? Can I tell you what happened to me? It’s important for me to tell you because it’s about tonight. And I really want to tell you about it tonight. I was there when it happened. I was there for the miracle that we are here to celebrate tonight. (turn down lights) MUSIC begins.
We don’t get snow much anymore, but just around the time when I was at my worst--I had nothing, the sidewalk was my bed, I was freezing all the time, hungry--the city was hit with the biggest snowstorm, and I couldn’t find anywhere to stay. I was sooo cold, I was like violently shivering, couldn’t stop. It was maybe 8 o’clock when everyone was heading home for Christmas Eve. The churches were locked, how weird was that? One place, I got to the door---it might have been this place…(look around) and the guy shooed me away. Not that I was much of a believer, but you know, they’re supposed to be nice, right? So I kept going. Even the scaffolding was no good, the wind blowing the snow right through and under the boards. So what could I do? I headed for the subway.
There were a lot of us there. In the stations, sitting on those hard benches. It’s not always so warm down there, but a heck of lot warmer than up above.
They were on holiday schedule, so not that many trains. Finally one came, and I got on. Oh man….it was like heaven. The heater was working amazing in the car, right under my seat. My fingers and toes, you know, I couldn’t feel them, but then they started to hurt a little as they became unfrozen. That’s a good hurt. There were very few people on the train, just a few like me in my car, and I could see some in the other cars. We were going downtown, but the train kept stopping. You could hear voices on the motorman’s radio. Something was up. We started again, passed Bleeker and Spring St, then crawled past Canal. They told us on the loudspeaker that they were closing down the system, the storm was huge. They were gonna turn the train around and we’d have to get off at Canal on the way back.
And a few minutes later we came to a complete stop. It looked like we were in a station, but it was dark. Suddenly the doors opened. The motorman went from car to car, telling us that we couldn’t go any farther. We’d have to go out the emergency exit.
On the platform, it was amazing. It was an old abandoned station, but it was beautiful. A stained glass ceiling, tiled arches over the tracks and platform. A sign over the exit read City Hall. I had never seen this place before. There were maybe 10 of us, and as we approached the exit we could hear the howling wind and feel the temperature drop like 20 degrees. Several of us must have looked reluctant to go out into all that, and the motorman took pity on us. He told us that he had to leave, but he would look the other way if we wanted to stay. “I didn’t see you,” he said, with a small smile on his face, and then he plunged out into the storm.
There were like 6 of us. Almost all guys—one with a dog, and there was this one woman, who was clearly the girlfriend of one of the guys. He was holding her closely as we walked back down the stairs. I figured he was trying to keep her warm, but when we got down to the platform, suddenly I saw that she was pregnant. I couldn’t help myself, I said “holy Moley!”. They both smiled at me. They were just like the rest of us: cold, dirty, hungry, no place to stay for the night except here, under the world. We all decided to camp out there together with our stuff under the stained glass ceiling, closing in a bit so we could share the warmth.
Almost immediately the drama began. The woman began to whimper and moan a little bit. “Oh geez”, her companion said, “it’s starting”. “What’s starting?” the guy with the dog asked, and another guy said, “What are you, blind?” She’s having a baby.” “Holy Moley”, I said again. Everyone sprung into action, which startled the dog, who started to bark, a kind of happy bark, which echoed up and down the platform, like there was a whole choir of dogs. One guy took out a sleeping bag from his cart, another one had a towel, I had a bottle of water (they always had water in movies were babies are born, but it was usually hot), the fifth guy dug out a bunch of old plastic toys he had buried amidst his portable treasures. I guess he figured the baby would need something to play with immediately upon arrival into the world. The best thing was watching the guy with his girlfriend, holding her, encouraging her, comforting her. “We can do this,” he said to her, kissing her forehead, and her hands and her belly. This is really happening, I said to myself. This is really happening. (Holy Moley, Holy Moley, Holy Moley).
Have you ever seen anybody get born into the world? I never have. I stayed away when my kids came out. But I saw this whole thing. It’s astonishing. It’s messy, lots of liquids, some bloody stuff, but when that baby comes out, I can’t describe the feeling. It’s a miracle, it’s really a miracle, and when you see a miracle, I mean really see a miracle, your hair stands up on the back of your neck, you turn flush, every sense suddenly feels like it is turned up to maximum strength, and your heart starts beating like it’s gonna burst out of your body.
I mean this wasn’t even my baby, but there was something about this baby that made it mine, and all of ours. And when he emerged out under the stained glass, you’re not gonna believe this, but suddenly there was the most beautiful light come down from somewhere up there, and just lit up his face. The whole place glowed from his face, our faces were all lit up, the tiles on the walls were glowing, the train tracks gleaming, it was like daylight in there and the dog was going crazy, jumping around and like singing- barking, like arrraa rrrr rrrrr raaa.
Still, still, still, the night is calm and still.
The Christ-child in his crib lies sleeping,
angels round him watch are keeping.
Still, still, still: the night is calm and still.
When we got everything cleaned up with the towels and my water--mama and baby--we put them both in the sleeping bag, along with the plastic toys. Her boyfriend was right next to them, holding them, smiling like you do when you are the recipient of a miracle. We were all smiling, for that matter. I like to think that we were the angels watching him as he slept in his mama’s bosom.
Sleep, sleep, sleep: sweet Jesus, softly sleep,
while Mary sings and gently holds you,
safely in her arms enfolds you.
Sleep, sleep, sleep: sweet Jesus softly sleep.
Have you had this happen to you? You slump down under a tree or against a wall or something and just sit there for half an hour or a million years, I don’t know, and all this time your eyes are wide open looking straight ahead at someplace, but you don’t see anything. And then, little by little, you begin to come to, then your eyes begin to come to, and all of a sudden you find out you’ve been looking at something the whole time except only now you really see it. That’s how it was that night, anyway. Like finally coming to, things finally coming into focus. And such things! Brightness everywhere, dipping and wheeling like a flock of birds. And what you always thought was silence stopped being silent and turned into the beating of wings, thousands and thousands of them. Only not just wings, but voices. High, wild, like trumpets.
It was the most beautiful night I have ever experienced. At the eye of a storm you know, there’s no wind. Nothing moves, nothing breathes—even silence keeps silent. So hush now, There he is, you see Him? You see Him?
Silent Night, Holy Night!
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace.