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The Dolphin
Your Monthly Magazine from Living Happy Center
December 2011
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From the Living Happy Writers
Carole Kane, Editor-in-Chief
Frank Clark, Marlene Emmett, Nancy Goshorn, Maryann Hall, Helene Herman, Glynis Hedley,
Dr. Brad Holway, Rev. Victor Langhorne,
Dr. Arthur Lewin, Joyce Magnavito
Nicholas Pascullo, Josephine Pico,
Debra Sanchez, Dimitra Savvidou,
Tom Stanton
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Dear Friends,
Welcome to the December issue of The Dolphin, featuring longer articles from the Living Happy Center Writers Group. Just as a reminder, you will receive The Dolphin once each month. During the rest of the month you will continue to receive your weekly Living Happy newsletter.
Jump right in and start reading! There are so many good stories, holiday memories, fiction and non-fiction. Hanukkah history and food and fun; Christmas in England, Brooklyn and Queens, New York City, the South and the North. Inspiration and meditation. Something to make you think. Enjoy!
As always, we welcome and love to get your comments... so please tell us your thoughts. You can click right here to reach us: The Dolphin: Comments
Happy reading!
- - Carole - -
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My Christmas List
by Helen Steiner Rice
I have a list of folks I know, all written in a book
And every year when Christmas comes, I go and take a look
And that is when I realize that these names became a part,
Not of the book they're written in, but of my very heart.
For each name stands for someone
Who has crossed my path sometime,
And in that meeting they've become
The rhythm in each rhyme.
And while it sounds fantastic, for me to make this claim,
I really feel that I'm composed of each remembered name.
And while you may not be aware of any "special link,"
Just meeting you has changed my life, a lot more than you think.
For once I've met somebody, the years cannot erase
The memory of a pleasant word, or of a friendly face.
So never think my Christmas cards are just a mere routine,
Of names upon a Christmas list, forgotten in between.
For when I send a Christmas card, that is addressed to you
It's 'cause you're on the list of folks I'm indebted to.
For I am but the total of the many folks I've met,
And you just happen to be one of those I'll ne'er forget.
And whether I have known you for many years or few,
In some way you've had a part in shaping things I do.
And every year when Christmas comes, I realize anew,
The best gift life can offer is meeting folks like you!
So may the spirit of Christmas that forever still endures,
Leave its richest blessing in the heart of you and yours.
Contributed by Josephine Pico
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The Festival of Hannukah
By Joyce Magnavito
The festival of Hanukkah is about light overcoming darkness; a miracle once again saving the small nation of Jews from the wrath of a mighty empire; and it is also about latkes, doughnuts, and dreidels!
After the death of Alexander the Great, the Greek Empire was split into three territories, which included Israel. The Syrian Greeks were not interested in co-existence, but in assimilation that would result in the Jews becoming just another conquered tribe.
Maccabees, the pious Jews who fought against having the pagan gods and culture forced upon Israel, battled against the Syrian Greeks for three years, and as small a group as they were, finally freed Israel. Their military success turned bittersweet when they marched victorious into the holy Temple in Jerusalem, only to find that the Temple had been desecrated and the pure oil needed to light the menorah had been defiled. One small jar of untouched oil was found, but it was only enough to burn for one day. To prepare more oil would require a process that took at least seven days. They lit the menorah with the little oil they had found, and miraculously, it burned for eight days - PLUS the two thousand years that Hannukah continued to be celebrated in Jewish homes, and is to this day.
The Hanukkah menorah has eight candle holders in one straight row of equal height - and the "shammash" - the servant candle, which is in the center and higher than the others. It is this "servant candle" that will light the menorah each night of Hanukkah. It is important that either oil or candles are used in the menorah. An electric menorah is only for decoration, or put in a window. Mystical tradition likens the candle flame to a soul. Just as a flame is never still, but is bright, jumping, not resting, so, too, is the human soul's desire to break free of physical limitations and to "jump up" to God.
To celebrate the miracle of the one day's supply of oil that burned for eight days in the holy Temple, we eat fried foods as part of the tradition. Jews, having been dispersed to every corner of the globe over two thousand years of exile, picked up culinary traditions from a variety of cultures. While most American Jews celebrate Hanukkah with deep fried latkes (pancakes) and jelly donuts, Italian Jews eat fried vegetables and deep-fried, crispy artichokes, Jewish style. The variety is endless - deep fried, breaded meat - "schnitzel" - in Austria; Hanukkah couscous eaten with fried chicken in Morocco, among countless other dishes that are Hanukkah specialties around the world. We can only hope that wherever these dishes are being served, cholesterol-lowering drugs are being consumed in double portions!
Every Hanukkah, children play with dreidels - a four-sided spinning top with a Hebrew letter written on each side, representing the phrase "A great Miracle Happened There."(In Israel, "There" becomes "Here.") Each player begins with a certain amount of coins, candy, or any kind of token. Usually the youngest child goes first. Each player has put a token in the pot. After spinning the dreidel, the letter facing upward determines what the payoff will be.
The game of dreidel is one of the oldest recorded games in history. Around 170 BCE the Greeks, who were then occupying Israel, declared Jewish rituals punishable by death. Teachers and their students continued their studies in secret, and when Greek patrols came by, would pretend to be playing this innocent game with a dreidel. "Hanukkah gelt" - real money, and also chocolate "coins" wrapped in gold foil are given to children. Sometimes a small gift for each of the eight days of Hanukkah is given to children as part of the celebration - but with the reminder that a part of their money is to be given to charity.
In Western time, dawn begins our waking day, but the Jewish day begins at sundown, and is based upon a lunar calendar. As we approach the winter solstice, the shortest day, the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah commands us to light the menorah and illuminate the world. Several centuries ago, in a rabbinic debate between two of Judaism's sages, Shammai and Hillel, they argued as to whether the menorah should be lit in descending or ascending order. Hillel won the debate and so we begin with one candle and, with each night, light a second, third, and fourth, until the last night eight candles in the menorah blaze forth their light into the profound darkness of the season.
Judaism commands that Jews add light to the world, to retrieve the sparks of the shattered vessels as the mystics have it; one more pledge and one more candle to redeem a desecrated world. The miracles of Hanukkah have been repeated throughout Jewish history; only the actors and the costumes have changed through the centuries, but the attempt to annihilate the Jewish people has not changed. And this is why the prayers said on each night of Hanukkah are as heartfelt today as they were to the small band of Maccabees two millennia ago. The candles will be blessed, acknowledging the King of the Universe who has commanded the Jewish people to kindle the Hanukkah lights. The second prayer will then be said, praising God for the miracles He performed, in those days and now. And the third blessing will be sung, the "Shehechayanu", thanking God "for keeping us in life and for enabling us to reach this season."
The menorahs placed in windows during Hanukkah are meant to publicize the miracle of Hanukkah, but they are also meant to serve as a reminder that in the midst of this season of profound darkness, and in this time of moral darkness, there is hope, and each of us can be the "spark" - the candle - that helps to illuminate a world so much in need of light.
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What Holidays Were Like In A Jewish - Italian Household
By Marlene Emmett
I grew up in a very interesting household. It was a mixed-religion, multi-national place. Father was Italian, German and Protestant; Mother was Jewish, Austrian and Irish.
Dad was one of four children - three brothers and one sister. Mom came from a family of five sisters and three brothers. When dad married mom he converted to Judaism, with his parents' approval. They loved their daughter- in - law. I came along in 1954, but not by the stork. I came along via Louise Wise Adoption Agency, but that's a story for another time.
I grew up in a loving household with lots of cousins, aunts and uncles. It was like a mini united nations - two aunts were Catholic, two uncles were Italian/German. And I had more than eighteen cousins! Five of them were Catholic. The cousins on my mom's side were all Jewish. .
We settled into life in a two bedroom apartment in Kew Gardens, Queens, New York. Mother and Daddy had worked in a coffee shop in New York before they married. Dad was a short order cook, Mom was a waitress. Dad was a better cook than Mom - Sorry, he made better scrambled eggs!. My dad and mom taught me how to cook when I was six years old. I loved the dinners my parents made.
Sunday dinners were a big production in our house. It might be roast chicken, salad, and glazed carrots, or it could be pot roast with mushroom gravy and mashed potatoes. Dinners were very interesting, filled with talk, good food and laughter. The grownups waited until after dinner to talk about politics or personal matters.
Depending upon what holiday it was, Mom would make either a turkey, roast beef, leg of lamb, lasagna, baked ham, or chicken cacciatore. Dad would make individual hot antipasti, which was rather time consuming, but they were always delicious.
Easter dinner consisted of baked Virgina ham or leg of lamb, string beans, potatoes, broccoli in garlic & oil, Italian pastries, Italian cookies, coffee, tea, or milk.. If a grandchild's birthday fell near or on Easter, Grandfather would add a huge cream cake from Venerio or Ferraro's Pastry shop in New York City.
Thanksgiving was just last week. I'm pretty good when it comes to making a turkey. Mom and dad taught me all kinds of tricks, like putting a cut-up onion into the cavity, and also starting the turkey upside down. If you do this the turkey juices run into the breast and when you carve it it's still juicy.
Enjoy your holiday dinner, and when you sit down, think back upon other holiday dinners you shared with your family and friends, and smile at the memories of days past.
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A Brooklyn Family Christmas
By Carole Kane
In the old fashioned kitchen on the third floor of a six-family tenement, whose dirty, weather-beaten bricks belied the spotless railroad apartments inside, Josefina Ricci hung up the phone and wiped her glistening eyes with the corner of her apron.
"Eh, whatsa matta, Josie?" Big Anna stopped chopping the nuts and candied fruit she was preparing and looked worriedly at her friend. But Josie was smiling!
"I'm gonna be a grandma!" Josefina blurted, and she had to wipe her eyes again. "My Chuck - Laura - they just found out now. It's for sure this time. The baby's coming in July!"
The two women flung their arms around each other.
"Such good news!" Big Anna cried. "Oh, wait'll you tell Felli. He's gonna die!"
"I know! I know! Hey, Annie, ain't this a nice thing to happen for Christmas?"
She paused a moment. "I wonder if it will be a boy? He will carry on the name."
"As long as it's healthy - so what, boy or girl." Big Anna went back to her chopping.
The big kitchen table was covered with flour and eggs and sugar and spices. They were starting the first round of baking for Christmas. Always, Big Anna made cookies and streuffli with Josie for the holidays. Nobody baked so good as these two, and their delicacies were always shared with the whole neighborhood on 33rd Street.
"We gotta make these very special," Josie said as she plunged her hands into the dough. "I wanna have a little extra celebration for the kids."
"Yeah, yeah - that will be nice," Big Anna agreed. And I'll make Little Anna come over Christmas morning and do your hair. She's doing good in Beauty School.
For a whole week before Christmas Josefina prepared the dinner, helped by the neighborhood housewives who came to congratulate her on the coming grandchild.
In her little Italian corner of Brooklyn, where families who had lived there for only ten or fifteen years were still referred to as the "new people," everyone participated in each other's family affairs. They mourned together, laughed together, cooked together for the holidays. No restaurant in the city could even come near the quality and taste of their home cooking. They used only "home made" mozzarella and ricotta from the aging, wrinkled Mr. DeLuca on Thirteenth Avenue; fresh mushrooms and vegetables from the open-air market; only Vitelli tomatoes from Italy for the gravy. And special imported olive oil and cheeses. Nothing but the best.
At two o'clock in the afternoon on Christmas Day, the delicious results stood ready for the huge table in the Ricci's dining room as the family sat down to dinner.
Felice - Papa- sat proudly at the head of the table. His curls were almost all white now, and so was his mustache. Josie had insisted he wear his starched white shirt - the one that itched. Once a year wouldn't kill him. But right after dinner it was gonna come off!
Next to him sat Chuck, then Laura, and then Aunt Millie Across the Hall and her Cousin Maria Who Never Got Married. Patria sat between Brian and Greg, and Josefina's seat was right by the kitchen door. The aromas drifting in from the kitchen were driving them crazy, and they waited in happy anticipation for Josie to come in.
And finally - resplendent in her best black dress, her white hair beauty-parlor stiff, Josefina was ready. She placed a giant tray of olives and cheeses and salami and anchovies - the antipasto - on the table and wiped her hands on her organdy half-apron (a Christmas gift from Brian and Greg).
"There. We are ready. Brian, you will say Grace, please?"
The little boy was thrilled. He had rehearsed the short prayer all day yesterday, and he bowed his head and pinched his eyes closed, his face flaming, as he solemnly recited:
"Thank you for the food we eat;
Thank you for the world so sweet;
Thank you for the birds that sing;
Thank you, Lord, for everything. Amen."
"E molte grazie pel bambino - thank You extra special for our new baby," Josie added. "Okay - we eat!
Adapted from
A Dream of Roman Candles by Carole Kane
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Times Cube
By Dr. Arthur Lewin
The car flew straight as an arrow, but the road began to curve, and so off it went over the rail and out for a while into the wild blue yonder until, that is, it began to drop. Click! Went the TV, when she turned it off and told him for the final time they had better not be late for the party,
When they got there, he went out to the bar on the fancy terrace in the luxurious high rise in the middle of the Apple. The cityscape at night was quite the majestic sight stretched out ad finitum before them.
A blinking star caught his eye. It seemed to get bigger. It was getting bigger. It wasn't a star! He was mesmerized. The people screamed as it flew directly towards them!
Snap. Went the book when he closed it, right at the good part, as his train pulled into the station. He hopped off and headed for the parking lot and the carping lot waiting at home.
He pulled out onto the highway and flicked on the radio. A favorite tune from was it 20 or 25 years ago? He did not know nor care. He let his mind wander to way, way back. When. When he was absolutely free. He just let himself flow with the racing music.
He sort of closed his eyes. The car flew straight as an arrow, but the road began to curve. And so off it went over the rail, and out for a while, into the wild blue yonder until, that is, it began to drop. Click. Went the TV when she turned it off, and told him for the final time they had better not be late for the party.
Arthur Lewin www.readlikeyourlifedependsonit.com
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 White Magic
By Debra Sanchez
My memories of Christmas Eves when I was a girl begin with my mom and my aunts bustling in the warm kitchen preparing the traditional Italian feast of the seven fishes. One of those dishes, unfortunately, was octopus, which terrified and repelled my little sister Joanie and I. It would sit in a plate in all of it's slimy glory, and Joanie and I would creep up to it, reach out tentative fingers to touch it, and run away yelling, "Eeewww!" With the exception of the octopus, no seafood restaurant on earth could compete with the dinner my family turned out. It was the most delicious food in the world.
After dinner, we'd gather in the living room which was illuminated only by the jewel-like lights on the Christmas tree. And what a tree it was! It was a small, artificial tree but my dad had a unique way of decorating it. He would cover a tall antique telephone table with brick paper, top it with cotton (snow), and set the tree on top, and it would appear ten feet tall. It was like magic. The ornaments were paper thin glass and hand painted, and we had a favorite; it was little, painted with holly, and we always hung it right in front. No one in the world had a more beautiful tree. Christmas carols would be playing, lights in the window would be softly blinking, and snow would be falling, and the feeling was of utter joy and peace, just like the songs said.
And on Christmas morning, oh, the presents! They were never expensive, but they were always just what we wanted. I did not realize back then that as we ripped open those boxes the real gifts that were flowing into the room were invisible, but would sustain me all my life. When we'd head out to church, the new snowfall would glisten like sugar in the sunshine and it would be up to my waist! It never snows that much anymore! My dad's eyes would twinkle as he shoveled a path for us, creating huge white snow forts on either side of the street.
My dad has been gone many years now, but I have the ornaments and I always hang our favorite little holly one right in front. A year or two ago I was frustrated about something and started talking out loud to my dad about it. In the absence of any breeze, the little ornament wiggled, letting me know my dad is still with me. Good witches might call it white magic. I call it something else, for what is that universal positive force some call white magic if not everlasting love?
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Under the Bronx Tree of Knowledge
By Dr. Brad Holway
Guido drove to The Bronx Botanical Garden. When he parked, he realized that the heat of the day was building. Despite the heat and his own corpulence, he walked rapidly through the crowded sections of the gardens, making his way to a remote area where he could be alone with his thoughts. Before long, he was sweating profusely. Finally, he found a place to meditate. It was on the side of a hill; dark, cool and shaded by gnarled old trees. A field of beautiful golden flowers lay nearby. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp or whistle of an unseen bird in the trees.
Guido sat, resting against the bole of an ancient tree. Moss grew in the shade. He breathed in the air. It was almost exhilarating, so different from the air of the teeming streets. He looked around him. Not a soul was in sight. Guido sighed. He then lit a cigarette and smoked in silence, emptying his mind of clashing thoughts, gradually feeling a sense of peace. When he finished his cigarette, he shoved it into the ground and covered it with dirt. He then lay down to meditate, an old tree root providing a pillow for his head. He was alone in that cool place, dappled with sun and shadow, alone with his thoughts.
He thought of his deceased parents and his East Harlem childhood, about his brothers, sisters, neighbors, friends and teachers. He remembered the thoughts and emotions of his boyhood as they surfaced and showed themselves, unfaded as morning. His mind focused on his teenage years. He recalled admiring the local gangsters, torpedoes, fixers and Tammany Hall ward bosses as if they were epic heroes. He remembered the endless hours at the movie theaters, watching Cagney, Bogart and Edward G. Robinson, wanting to create himself in their image.
Guido laughed out loud; the sound filled the shady space he had chosen for its silence. He sat up and lit another cigarette. It was all too funny. He was a fixer, an effective one at that. His very identity was tied to this fact. Now, suddenly, it was laughable. The middle-aged Guido was a fixer because the young Guido, mesmerized by gangster movies and the "big shots" of old East Harlem, had willed him to be. The child was the father of the man. All that he was had sprung from his adolescent longings; he now suddenly saw himself as a middle-aged man who had been invented by a teenaged boy. Of course he was colorful. The Guido of a quarter century ago would not have permitted him to be otherwise. He laughed at the irony of it.
Adapted from When Jack Was With Us by B.K. Holway
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An English Christmas Story
By "Mary's Pen Friend in England"
Jean brought a fresh pot of tea to the table. "I took Jimmy to see Father Christmas today," she said, " and do you know what he asked for? You'll never guess."
Her husband looked up irritably from the sits. vac. columns of the paper.
"Then why ask me?" He waved his hand dismissively at her. "No, don't tell me, I don't want to know. Whatever it is, we can't afford it. I don't know what you wanted to go wasting a pound on that for. With me about to be laid off on Christmas Eve, I'd have thought you'd know we'll be needing every penny we can get."
"And another thing," he continued. "Have you written to that cousin of yours yet, explaining why we can't have her this year? It's going to be a hard enough job feeding ourselves, without her coming as well. She always expects to come for a fortnight and we have to buy her a present on top of everything else because she brings those stupid things for us. All those awful socks and ties and the face stuff you don't use. Wouldn't be so bad if she realised Jimmy was growing up and brought him something sensible. "
"I've written to Mildred, yes."
Something about her tone made Robert suspicious. "Have you told her not to come?" he persisted.
"Not exactly." Jean faltered. Then with an unusual touch of defiance she continued, "Oh, I couldn't, she looks forward to coming every year and she's got nowhere else to go. We're the only family she's got. And it is Christmas. But I did explain the situation, I said money was going to be tight this year, with you out of work and all."
Robert looked about to argue, but instead he got up from the table and without another word stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.
Jean sighed. Not enough money for Christmas, but enough for the pub.
She crept upstairs and looked in on Jimmy in case he had been woken by the noise of the door. All was well; he was sound asleep, one arm still wrapped round his teddy bear. He looked angelic with those long lashes and fair curly hair. He was five last birthday and quite old for his years, as only-children often are, so she had been a bit surprised today when he had asked to see Father Christmas. She had thought he had out-grown such ideas.
Yet somehow he seemed to have reconciled a belief in Father Christmas with a knowledge that it wasn't going to be any use asking him for a lot of expensive toys this year. Not that she didn't know there was something he had set his heart on. Every time they had passed the cycle shop on the High Street, he had lingered in front of the window, gazing at the bright red bike, but he had never mentioned it. Not even to Father Christmas today. This afternoon she had almost gone into the shop to ask if they did hire purchase, but she knew Robert would never agree, so in the end she hadn't bothered.
Next morning, breakfast time brought a reply from Mildred. As she opened the envelope, Jean saw a £50 note folded in with a letter. Her cousin had written that she couldn't think what to buy for them this year, so she hoped Jean wouldn't mind if she just enclosed some money so that it could be used as Jean and Robert thought fit.
Robert reacted angrily. "We don't want her charity, thank you very much," he shouted.
Jean saw her opportunity. Whilst Jimmy was upstairs getting himself dressed, she told her husband about the bike. "It's exactly £50, and I'm sure Mildred would like us to use the money to buy something he would really like." she said.
Her husband exploded. "What? Spend all that money on a bike? We haven't enough money for food, let alone Christmas presents, and you're proposing to go and blue £50 on a bike!."
Robert took the note and put it into his wallet. "I'll decide what we're going to do with it. Someone has to have a bit of sense round here."
Jean knew it would be no use arguing. She went upstairs to help Jimmy with his buttons and shoe laces.
The next two weeks were busy. Jean found the Christmas preparations even more trying than usual as she struggled to cope with more expense and less money. Fortunately she had saved a few pounds out of the housekeeping for a rainy day or she didn't know how she would have managed. She had even bought a small bottle of toilet water for Mildred and some paints for Jimmy. After some thought, she wrapped a bottle of wine in Christmas paper for Robert. They could have that with the dinner. Everyone expecting a card would have got one.
It was now Christmas Eve and she could do no more. She looked at the clock. Nearly mid-day. Robert would be coming back early, so he would be expecting lunch. She wondered what sort of mood he would be in, now that he had finally finished work. She hoped he would try to put a brave face on things for Jimmy's sake; it would be a shame to spoil his Christmas.
Just then she heard Robert's key in the door. He was hardly in the room before he was telling her the news. Apparently the receivers had been able to sell Fordhams as a going concern, and although not all the men were being taken on, he was one of the lucky ones. In two weeks time he was to report for work again, same place, new bosses. Robert was transformed. The depression of the last few weeks was forgotten. Neither of them had dared hope for such good luck.
Then Jean suddenly remembered - "Jimmy has got his Christmas wish," she said. "That was what he asked Father Christmas for. He said he didn't want anything for himself, he just wanted Father Christmas to get his Daddy a new job."
Robert looked at Jean for a while without speaking. Then he took out his wallet and extracted the fifty pound note, still folded as it had arrived in the letter.
"You know which bike he wants," he said. "Can you go down and pay for it and tell them I'll pick it up in the car later?"
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Suzy Smart
By Frank Clark
Local Grocery and Market.
Mom with two small girls and one six year old boy. They enter the market and stop to get a free small cola from the yellow crate atop the grocery carts.
Lulu says "Mama, mama. There's "Suzy Smart. See, over there." Mom looks up, high above the meat counter at the boxed toys on display. All nine dollars and ninety nine cents.
"Ben, the combat soldier." Nine dollars and ninety nine cents. "Junka toy tractor and truck." Nine dollars and ninety nine cents. The center toy is "Suzy Smart." Nine dollars and ninety nine cents. Last toy displayed is a "Kiddie Girl Baking Oven." It requires a forty watt bulb and is electric. Warning label. "Light is hot. Needs supervision under the age of six." It too, nine dollars and ninety nine cents.
Up and down the first aisle. "Mama, mama. I want her, Suzy Smart." Up and down the second aisle. Kosher pickles, all sorts of olives and canned meats. At the end of aisle two, "Mama, mama. There's Suzy Smart. I want her. Please, mama."
Up and down the third aisle. At end of the aisle, "Mama, there's Suzy Smart. I really want her. I'll do my school work, do extra chores and most of all, be good. Can I have her, mama?" "Maybe, we'll see. All right kids, we are about to go. Finish up your soft drinks. Josh, take these bottles back."
Last aisle, bread and meat. "Hello, Joe. I'll have five pounds of ground hamburger meat." "Here, Jocelyn." "It has to last a week, Joe. There's five of us."
Lastly, Lulu says "Mama, mama, Suzy Smart, Suzy Smart, Suzy Smart! I've got to have her. Mr Drew, how much is Suzy?" "She's nine dollars and ninety nine cents. Lulu, I noticed you asked every aisle for Suzy Smart. Let's take her display box down, so you can take a closer look at her."
"Thank you, Mr. Drew. Oh, mama, she's a school girl like me." "Yes, she is honey. She's like you."
Mr. Drew describes Suzy. "Suzy is wearing her school uniform. Plaid skirt, black tam and a three buttoned blouse."
"I want her, mama, for Christmas. Please, under the tree. She will be my only gift. Nothing else."
Mr. Drew says to Lulu, "There's something special about Suzy Smart. Press her middle blouse button."
"My name is Suzy Smart, what's your name? I can spell. D-o-g is dog. C-a-t is cat. I can count. Two plus two is four. Three plus three is six."
"Lulu, press her button again." "My name is Suzy Smart, what's your name?" "Okay, kids, let's check out and go home" "Mama, mama, mama. Suzy Smart, Suzy Smart, Suzy Smart!"
One week before Christmas, Jocelyn visits the grocery. "Mr. Drew, I see you still have Suzy Smart. Still nine dollars and ninety nine cents?" "Yes, I do, but she is the last one." "I'll take her." "Mrs. McLane, battery not included. It takes one C battery. Here's two batteries on me."
"Also, Mr. Drew, I'll take the Junka tractor, too, and the Kiddie Girl Baking Oven." "The baking oven takes a forty watt bulb and it is electric." Warning: "Light bulb is hot. Children under six need adult supervision." "Please, Jocelyn, supervise your girls." "I will, Joe." "Here's two bulbs, just in case you need it" "Thank you, it is appreciated, Joe. Merry Christmas, Joe." "Merry Christmas to all the McLane's"
One week before Christmas Eve. Jocelyn takes "Combat Ben" and he is wrapped in blue. The "Kiddie Girl Baking Oven" is wrapped next in yellow with a red bow on top. Lastly, "Suzy Smart" is wrapped in red foil and a beautiful white bow on top. All signed "from Santa."
It's Christmas Eve. "The kids are so excited." Lulu is hoping with anticipation. "It's time to see what Santa dropped off." "Josh, you go first. "Reach under the tree and get the blue one." Josh tears off wrapping and sees his gift. "Mom, it's just what I wanted. How did Santa know?" "He just knows" "The Junka tractor and truck. I'm going to play now." "Josh, wait for your sisters, please."
"You're next, Mary Ellen." "Kiddie Girl Baking Oven, I hope, I hope.
Mom says, "Mary Ellen, pick up the large yellow package." "It is the baking stove, just what I wanted. It's just what I wanted, Mom. Thank you, Santa."
"Now, L ulu, are you ready? Are you ready?" "Oh yes, mama." "Carefully pick up the green-foiled wrapped gift." "I'm so excited! Suzy Smart, Suzy Smart, SUZY! I love you." "Press the black button dear." "My name is "Suzy Smart, my name is Suzy Smart, my name is Suzy. I can spell, I can spell. Three plus three is my name is Suzy Smart. I can spell, spell, spell. Three plus three is six, six, six." "Something's wrong with Suzy, mom. Can we trade her in?" "Just shake her a little, honey." "My name is Suzy Smart, what's your name? I can spell. D-o-g is dog. C-a-t is cat.. I can count. Two plus two is four. Three plus three is six." Lulu imagines "I love you, Lucy." "I love you, too. I love you Suzy Smart."
All are happy. They get their Christmas wish. Merry Christmas!
Frank Clark frankclarkshortstories.com
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See You Next Month!
We hope you've enjoyed our stories.
Stay happy, enjoy all the holiday treats, then go move that body!
Treasure your friends, dance, be playful and free!
Be kind to yourself, love your family.
And give thanks !!
The Living Happy Writers Group
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