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Home > Archive > General Discussion > December 2003 > A Christmas Story
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| 69_rs_ss 2003-12-19, 3:27 pm |
| One of the better inspirationals I've received this season.
One snowy December, I was rushing around trying to get some last minute
Christmas shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly
of the Christmas season just then. It was dark, cold and wet in the
parking lot as I was loading my car up with gifts that I felt obligated to
buy.
I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I would probably need later
on, so muttering under my breath, I retraced my steps to the mall
entrance.
As I was searching the wet pavement for the missing receipt, I heard a
quiet sobbing nearby. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy,
who I guessed was about 12 years old. He was short and thin, and had no
coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him from the
cold winter night's chill.
Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand.
Thinking that he had gotten separated from his parents an d was lost, I
asked him what was wrong. He told me his sad story he said that he came
from a large family of three brothers and four sisters. His father had
died when he was 9 years old. His mother was poorly educated and worked 2
full time jobs, from which she made very little to support the family.
Nevertheless, she had skimped and saved $200 to buy Christmas gifts for
her children. The young boy had been dropped off by his mother on the
way to her second job, given the money and told to buy presents for the kids
and save just enough to take the bus home. He had not even entered the
mall, however, when an older boy grabbed one of the $100 bills and
disappeared into the night.
Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.
"I did." said the boy.
"And no one came to help you?" I wondered.
The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head.
"How loud did you scream?" I inquired. The soft spoken boy looked up
and meekly whispered, "Help me!"
I realized that absolutely no one could have heard this poor boy's cry
For help.
So I grabbed the other $100 and ran to my car.
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| tembpoib 2003-12-19, 3:35 pm |
| "As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection. A thick slab of ham, a fresh bun, crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the picnic table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my wife suddenly at my side. "Hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich," she said.
"I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers. I love mustard. I had no napkin. I licked it off. It was not mustard. No man ever put a baby down faster.
"It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand I did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do, only I did it on my tongue. Later (after she stopped crying from laughing so hard) my wife said, "Now you know why they call that mustard 'Poupon.'" | |
| jimbo2002 2003-12-19, 3:36 pm |
| Well, at least you showed a bit of kindness and christmas spirit by not stealing his flannel shirt as well, damned decent of you I think. | |
| jimbo2002 2003-12-19, 3:39 pm |
| BTW, my last post was a response to the first post, forgot to quote. | |
| jkhnwspec 2003-12-20, 9:10 am |
| quote:
Originally posted by tembpoib
"As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection. A thick slab of ham, a fresh bun, crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the picnic table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my wife suddenly at my side. "Hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich," she said.
"I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers. I love mustard. I had no napkin. I licked it off. It was not mustard. No man ever put a baby down faster.
"It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand I did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do, only I did it on my tongue. Later (after she stopped crying from laughing so hard) my wife said, "Now you know why they call that mustard 'Poupon.'"
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