An Extraordinary Year

My mom took down the Christmas tree every year on New Year’s Day, but in 1963, she saved the tree out in the back yard for a reason I didn’t know right away. The tree stood against the side of the garage, pieces of tinsel still attached, flittering in the wind. After having had so many decorations and lights all over it, the tree looked forlorn and lonesome out there where the ground was white and the sky was gray. This was the dead of winter in Ohio, and the Christmas tree now matched the season.

January 6 was the celebration of Epiphany. Along with all the other people who went to Calvary Evangelical United Brethren church, we were going to the gravel pit to burn our Christmas trees. Mom told my little brother Jim and I about this on January 5. I think she sprung it on us at the last minute because she knew we would protest. Anyway, she said that this was being done in remembrance of the Three Wise Men first visiting baby Jesus and bringing him some pretty fancy presents. I thought it was kind of weird that we would have a fire to remember that the Three Wise Men came to see Jesus because when I thought of fire and religion, I thought about a place I didn’t want to go when I died. Plus, I thought we had already heard all the Wise Men stuff we needed to at Christmas when we sang “We Three Kings of Orient Are.” That was actually one of my favorite Christmas songs.

“Will we at least roast some yummy marshmallows?” Jim asked hopefully.

“Not likely, son, but we’ll say some prayers and probably go back over to the church and have some hot chocolate,” Mom told him.

This was sounding like a dud of a party to me. I guess it wasn’t supposed to be a party exactly, but anytime you have a bonfire, it just seems to make sense that you would be having some kind of party around it.

“Mom, do we really have to go? Haven’t we gone to church enough for a while? Geeminy, we were up there all the time getting ready for the Christmas play and decorating. Then we had to be there for the actual play and all the different Christmas services. Can’t we just go burn up the trees and come home?” I was pleading my case, afraid I was going to have to dress up one more time. I was getting kind of sick of wearing a tie and my good shoes. Our church really celebrated Christmas a lot, having a play, a big choir production, Christmas Eve midnight service and all the regular church stuff. We did it at Easter, too. Church, church, church. I didn’t mind church, but I didn’t want to overdo it. I just wanted to go to enough church that I could avoid the fiery place.

“John, we won’t be up there long for this service. On top of that, you’ll be wearing warm clothes and boots – not your dress up clothes. I can read your mind, you know.” How did moms do this? Read your mind, I mean. My mom was an expert at it, and I couldn’t figure out how she knew exactly what I was thinking, exactly when I was thinking it. She did that all the time.

Jim had already left this conversation and moved on to playing with the Rock ’em Sock ’em robots that he had gotten for Christmas. He was sitting in the middle of the living room floor trying to play by himself, which was goofy, of course.

“Here, I’ll play you,” I said to him. I got down on the floor with him and took the red robot.

Bash! “Here’s a knock-out punch for sure!” I announced, but the blue robot kept his head on.

Pow! The blue robot hit my robot back. I thought Jim almost had me with that punch, but somehow the red robot stayed intact.

Bang! Bop! We kept at each other until finally, the blue robot crumpled under my superior boxing ability.

“You win again.” Jim looked dejected.

“What do you think about this Epiphany thing?” I asked Jim. He was my younger brother, but sometimes he had a few things to say that were worth listening to. It didn’t happen all that often, but I was interested in what he thought about another church event.

“I don’t know. All I know is we’re going whether we like it or not,” he shrugged. There was something in his voice that was so resigned to the idea that I knew he was right and that I may as well give up any hope of skipping out on this particular event. We packed up the robots and went to our respective rooms.

I was in a gloomy mood. Christmas had been so great! I knew Christmas was more than just presents and parties, but school would be starting back up soon and I was savoring every minute of freedom I could. I didn’t really want any more church obligations, or truthfully, any other kind of obligation. I wanted to just watch TV or read my new Hardy Boys mystery. I had gotten “The Clue of the Screeching Owl” for Christmas and I hadn’t even started it. Or I’d rather go sledding at the gravel pit than burn trees in it. But there was no going against Mom on these things. You just had to accept it and get through it.

Our poor Christmas tree still sat out in the backyard, branches getting brownish with needles lying on the snow underneath where it stood against the garage. I’m not too mushy of a guy, but that tree had looked beautiful just a week or so before. It seemed strange to see it outside now, and our living room seemed kind of empty without it.

That gave me a thought. If we didn’t have the old Christmas tree anymore, we couldn’t really take it up to the gravel pit for the Epiphany meeting. We could just stay home. School started back up the very next day anyway. We would need a good night’s sleep, not that I had ever cared about that before. A plan was starting to hatch in my nine year old brain. Gosh, if I could think this clearly now when my tenth birthday wasn’t till March, just think how much smarter I would be when I did finally turn ten.

I knew I would have to be especially careful with my plan. No one, especially Mom, must know I had anything to do with the disappearance of the tree, and I would have to act fast because January 6 was the next day. I spent the better part of the afternoon scheming up a plan to thwart the Epiphany.

After dinner, I told Mom I was tired and was going to go lay down.

“Are you feeling all right? Let me feel your forehead.” Mom reached over and put the back of her hand against my forehead. “No fever. Let me see in your throat.” I opened my mouth as wide as I could. “Well, it doesn’t look red and I don’t see any white patches,” she pronounced.

“I feel fine, Mom, just tired.” I didn’t want to go through a Perry Mason questioning, especially since she was so darned good at reading my mind.

“Ok. Well, I’ll check in on you after I finish the dishes.”

I didn’t really want that and I certainly didn’t need that. I knew there was no chance of it not happening, though, so I went to my room, laid down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, visualizing each step of my plan as I would be carrying it out. It was wickedly brilliant.

After a while, I heard Mom coming down the hall. I grabbed my Hardy Boys book and opened it up so she would think I was reading. The door opened and there was Mom, smiling at me with her sweet Mom smile. How could I be so evil as to try to deceive her? I was immediately flooded with guilt.

“How are you doing, John? Do you still feel ok?” she asked.

“Sure, Mom, sure. I really am fine. I just felt kind of tired and thought I would read for a while tonight.” I was pretty sure she bought it.

“All right. Well, we’re going to watch some TV and pop some popcorn later if you feel like joining us.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll probably just keep reading, so don’t worry about me.” I couldn’t have seemed more innocent.

I did start reading my new mystery book that evening. I felt kind of bad about Mom and how sweet she was, and I thought if I did some reading, at least I wouldn’t have been telling a real big lie – just a little one. But reading made me sleepy, and I had to really fight to stay awake. I knew Mom liked to watch the late movie sometimes on Saturday nights, and I was sure hoping this wouldn’t be one of those nights.

Finally about ten o’clock, I heard Mom and Dad coming up the steps and heading for their room. My door opened and Mom put her head in, but I just pretended I was asleep. She came over and put her hand on my forehead again. I had to lie really still so she wouldn’t know I wasn’t sleeping. I also had my clothes on under the covers. I thought that might make me feel hot, but she must have thought I was ok because she didn’t say or do anything. It was not an easy moment for my master plan.

Once it seemed like the house was settled, I quietly pushed back my covers and tiptoed over to the closet to get my coat. My closet door was kind of creaky and I had to open it very slowly to keep from making noise. I knew how to do this from watching “Espionage” on TV. I thought I could make a pretty good spy when I grew up.

All I had left to get was my boots. I wasn’t planning to be outside long enough to need my hat or a scarf. I needed gloves, though, because the pine needles on the Christmas tree were all dried out and prickly. Pine needles really hurt when they are dried out like that.

I managed to avoid the squeaky steps down the staircase. I didn’t turn on any lights, but felt my way through the house, slowly and carefully. Our boots were right by the back door where we had left them after playing outside that day. Once I got them on and buckled, I was feeling braver, certain that my mission would be accomplished. I opened the back door and made sure I unlocked it. That would have been the end of me for sure, forgetting to unlock the door so I could get back in the house.

It was really dark outside. Our small town had few street lights out where we lived, which was more on the edge of town, not right in the center. It was starting to snow, and it was so quiet and serene that I felt like I was in a wintery dreamland. It was kind of a nice feeling. But I had to focus! I didn’t want to be out there too long. The longer you’re doing a job like this, the bigger the chances you’ll get caught. I knew that from “Espionage” too.

I got to the garage and found the tree, still leaning up against the side where Dad had put it to keep it out of the wind. I grabbed it by the trunk and started dragging it out to the back of our lot. I intended to throw it over the back fence into an open field that separated us from some other homes. The Petersons lived across that field. I was sure they were asleep and would not see my activity.

Getting the tree across the fence was a little more of an endeavor than I had anticipated because the snow was deep out there and hard to wade through. Plus the fence was at least as tall as I was, so I had to hoist the tree up over my head to get it across into the field. I didn’t want to get pine needles all caught in my coat, so I attempted to hold the tree like a pole vaulter would hold his jumping pole and try to heave the tree over. After about three attempts, I finally managed to plunk that tree on the other side of the fence. I was breathless and tired, and I still had to slog back through the snow up to the house. The snow was falling pretty fast, it was really, really dark at the back of the lot, and I felt more anxiety now than I had when I started out.

I tried to run up to the back of the garage at least – make quicker time, was my thinking – but I fell flat on my face between the back of the lot and the garage, out by the plum tree. I got up, tried to brush myself off a little and started back on my way more cautiously. It seemed like an hour before I finally got to the back door of the house and made my way inside.

I was a snow-covered mess. I put my gloves in my pockets, peeled off my coat and hung it on the hooks dad had put on a board from an old rowboat Grandpa had owned when my Dad was a little kid. “Fisherman’s Dream,” the board said. Dad said it made sense to put coat hooks on it since it had fish hooks in it when he was young. My dad was always saying stuff like that.

I put my boots on the mat by the door where we put snowy or muddy boots. That way we didn’t track up Mom’s clean floors and get ourselves in a world of trouble. I retraced my route up the stairs, changed into my pajamas and crawled into bed, exhausted from my adventure.

The next day, January 6, I woke up late, no doubt from my escapade the night before. I wandered downstairs, where Mom was making waffles.

“Well, good morning, sleepy head. I thought I was going to have to come up there and roust you out before long.” Mom had a big smile on her face, and I felt a little guilty about the lie I was getting ready to tell her.

“Well…you know I was really tired last night. I still feel kind of tired today.” The second part of that was not a lie.

“Just take it easy today. I don’t want you to get sick because we have to go away tonight and school starts back up tomorrow.” Mom seemed a little too cheerful about the school part.

Dad came into the kitchen to refill his coffee cup. “Honey, I forgot to tell you that the back door was standing wide open this morning and it was cold as anything in here. I guess I forgot to lock it. The wind must have blown it open, and it was that way all night. Probably wasted a lot of fuel oil heating the outdoors, doggone it. Don’t let me forget to check it before I go to bed tonight.”

A wave of guilt washed over me. It was one thing to mess up Mom’s Epiphany plan. It was another thing altogether to waste fuel oil heating the outdoors. Leaving the door open in the winter was a big deal with my parents. Dad always said, “We don’t live in a barn!”

I didn’t feel too hungry, but I ate my waffles with Log Cabin syrup and went to get dressed. I don’t think anyone had noticed that the Christmas tree was long gone. I looked out the windows of the living room and saw that about three inches of snow had fallen overnight. No wonder I was having such a hard time getting back to the house.

We had to go to regular church that Sunday morning. I prayed a little bit about what I had done and asked God to forgive me for not wanting to go to the gravel pit that night. Then I spent most of the day reading “The Clue of the Screeching Owl” and watching TV. Jim wanted to play a board game he had gotten for Christmas – the Jetsons. I played it with him for a little while, but I couldn’t really concentrate. I was wondering what was going to happen later when Mom and Dad realized there was no Christmas tree for the Epiphany party.

At about five o’clock, Mom called us in to supper. She had made her beef vegetable soup – “it’ll help keep you warm later,” she said – and homemade bread. I loved her homemade bread, too. When you bit into it, you knew you were chewing something, way different than Wonder bread, which we had most of the time, or Nickle’s bread, which we had when the bread man came by our house.

When we got done eating, Mom asked us to help her pick up the table and then go get dressed for the Epiphany. She still didn’t know.

“I’ll go drag the tree around to the front of the house,” Dad said. “Then we can just go out the front door and walk up to the gravel pit right from there.” He didn’t know either.

I picked up my dishes and Jim’s, too. I wanted to be especially helpful since Mom was getting ready for a big disappointment.

“Thank you, John. I can take it from here. It won’t take long to clean this up, so go get your warm clothes on.”

“Mom, do we HAVE to go? It’s so cold out, and it snowed a lot. Can’t we just stay home?”

“No, son. We’re going. This is a time to celebrate with all of our friends at church,” she countered.

I turned and headed for the stairs with my head hanging. Just as I got to the bottom step, I heard Dad come in with an announcement. “Hey, honey, the tree is gone. It must have blown away last night during the snow storm. I thought I had it where it couldn’t get picked up, but it’s gone.”

Victory! I sat down on the bottom step and waited for Mom’s reply.

“Well, that’s no bother,” she said. “No one is going to care whether or not we actually bring a tree.”

“Yup,” Dad replied. “I don’t think anyone will care.”

Defeat! Complete and utter defeat! My exquisite plan, so meticulously carried out, had failed in the end. I got on my feet and trudged up the stairs. Jim was already on his way down.

“You better hurry up,” he said. “Mom will not like it if we’re late. You know how she is.”

Grudgingly, I put on two pairs of jeans and two pairs of socks. I put on two tee shirts and a flannel shirt, too. Then I put on a sweater. Hopefully, it would be enough.

I headed back downstairs to get my coat, hat, gloves and boots. When I reached into my pocket to get my gloves, they were still a little bit wet. Wadded up in a ball in each pocket, they hadn’t been able to dry out.

Yippee, I thought.

Out the front door we all traipsed, down the street, up the alley, across Main Street and over to the gravel pit. There were already a bunch of church people there, singing Christmas carols. I couldn’t figure this thing out. Christmas was over. Just the same, we joined in the singing and kind of bounced around a little to keep warm. Finally, the singing part was done and Pastor Miller gave a little talk.

“Who were the Magi?” he asked. Jim raised his hand, but I don’t think Pastor Miller really wanted an answer. “They were astrologers who knew enough about Hebrew scripture to understand that a Messiah had been promised, and they were looking for signs in the heavens. When they saw that sign – the star in the East – they made a long and no doubt arduous journey to find the Christ child. In Matthew 2, we read this: ‘And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense and myrrh.’ Now we all know that Jesus was not in a house – he was in a manger in a cold, dirty stable. He was wrapped in swaddling clothes. He didn’t come into this world with much, but what He left this world is a gift far beyond what we could ever repay. The Wise Men helped spread the revelation of Jesus Christ to the whole world. If not for that, we might not have this church community we enjoy today. Let’s bow our heads and say a prayer of thanks for that gift.”

Everyone prayed in silence for a couple of minutes. Finally, Pastor Miller said, “And all God’s children said….”

“AMEN,” answered the people. Everyone had big smiles on their faces, and they didn’t even seem like they were cold or anything. They started shaking each other’s hands and visiting like it was a day in the middle of the summer. It did, actually, warm up there at the gravel pit as everyone’s very dry Christmas trees went up in a blaze. The flames shot high into the night sky, and most everyone watched in silence.

We all walked over to the church together and went down in the basement to where we always had our church dinners and so forth. A lot of the ladies had brought pies and cookies. I had been so preoccupied with my own activities that I hadn’t even known that Mom had made a peach pie and brought it up to the church that morning when we had come to regular church. At least that’s what Jim told me. I had a piece of peach pie and a cup of hot chocolate and listened to the grown-ups talk about weather and school starting back up tomorrow and work stuff. Mrs. Light asked me if I was ready to go back to school. Mr. Clymer rubbed my hair all around and gave me a little sock in the arm. It didn’t hurt. Nancy Burner asked me what I got for Christmas. Mom was busily putting out more desserts on the tables and talking with the other ladies about recipes. Dad was talking with the men about Viet Nam and some other political stuff I didn’t understand. All of a sudden it hit me. These people were like an extended family, the people who would help look out for me if my mom and dad weren’t around. No kid would want to escape that kind of friendship. I watched the familiar faces with a different feeling than when I had come to the Epiphany party. Bright eyes, rosy cheeks from the cold, and everyone with smiles on their faces…they cared about each other, and that included me. That was my own revelation, right there in the church basement where earlier in the day, I had not wanted to be. At nine-almost-ten years old, my epiphany was that I was in the right place at the right time with the right people. 1963 was off to a good start. It was going to be an extraordinary year.