by BobA. Troutt
*****
Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy
What Happened to the Jolly Holly, Jingle Jingle and
Ho, Ho, Ho in Christmas
Hooray! It was Christmas once again in the little community of Dry Ridge. The snow had blanketed the ground with its beautiful white spread. The children were playing, throwing snowballs and sledding. Hurriedly, the townspeople rushed here and there doing their last minute shopping and visiting. Everyone was smiling, laughing and full of good cheer. The air was filled with Christmas songs; it was the happiest time of the year. The lyrics of the songs danced about on the cool, brisk day. Everyone’s hearts were in tune.
“It is Christmas. It is Christmas and I am so glad,” they all sang.
“Hello, sir. Good morning, ma’am,” came the happy greetings as the shoppers passed each other.
“Tell me this, tell me that,” said one little boy to another.
“What is Santa going to bring you tonight?” asked another.
That was the way Christmas should be. It was the way Christmas had always been. But, I’m afraid not my friend. Looking back through the years, there came a time in Dry Ridge when Christmas changed. There was no holly jolly, jingle jingle or ho, ho, ho in Christmas. You might ask, what on earth could have happened? Well, there were lots of rumors told and plenty of speculation. What happened to the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas?
I must say that rumor has it and stories are told that the Hollimans, the people who lived there over the years, lost the Christmas spirit. Poof, it was gone. You see, Dry Ridge consisted of three sets of Hollimans. There were the Hollimans that lived north of Yellow Creek which ran through the north of town. There were the Hollimans that lived east of Lick Creek which ran east of town. And, there were the southern Hollimans that lived south of Standing Stone Road. Each set of Hollimans had at least twelve families each. They were all married and created a town full of Hollimans. Ho, ho, ho, can you believe that?
The eldest and oldest Holliman was Edgar. The youngest was Wee Willie Ruth Holliman. At one time, they were a happy little community such as it was in the beginning of the story. The community was full of good people who loved everyone. A more caring and loving town couldn’t be found for miles around.
Ah, don’t take me wrong little lads. There was a time when holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho rang abundantly across the land. But, what could have happened? What could have gone wrong? Why did the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas disappear from this little town? Why did the Christmas spirit leave? Where did it go? Was it lost on Little Jaybird Lane that ran through the middle of town? Or, did it vanish at Yellow Creek or Lick Creek? Was it hiding at Standing Stone? Why, no one seemed to know.
The town was full of long faces, lowered eyebrows and the dreaded look of Christmas on their faces. Oh, Christmas is here again was a phrase that echoed throughout the town during the Christmas season. There were no songs in the air. There was no laughing and giggling. There was no one saying good morning, ma’am or good day, sir. The spirit had gone. Even the falling of snow made them angry and sad. The once fluffy blanket of white was nothing but a grim glittering gray in the hearts and eyes of the Hollimans of Dry Ridge.
But what, oh tell me, could have happened to cause such a thing? I have looked and searched for someone who could tell me why.
As the cold wind blew, driving the snow harder and harder against them, the people didn’t rush. They didn’t seem to care. The lines were long but the people’s faces were longer. The children frowned and cried because they wanted to go home. From time to time, they would have a few short words with each other which usually ended with a push and a shove. Where did they fail? What happened to their joy and smiles? Grumpy old frowns were the only emotion they could show. The lights that usually decorated the homes and town were nothing but weathered light strands hanging from long ago. Many of the bulbs were shot and many strands of lights had some lights that worked and some that didn’t.
“Who cares?” I cried as I ran through the town. “Does anyone care? Look at you! Look at you!” I shouted at everyone I passed. “There are no snowmen, snowballs, icicles or anyone sledding. Where is the spirit?” I cried.
I couldn’t find anyone to tell me what happened to the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas. Finally I came upon some children who looked so sad and disappointed.
“Please tell me why, my child, you don’t believe,” I said.
The little boy turned to me with a cold and saddened look.
“Don’t you know,” he replied and laughed in my face. “I’m too old.”
Confused, I continued my search for the answer. I went from here to there seeking what I could find. Some told me Christmas was for children. Others told me it was too commercial.
“Have you all lost the meaning?” I screamed as I stood shivering in the cold wet snow.
No one said a word; all was quiet. All that could be heard were the snowflakes falling onto the icy ground. The people continued to pass without saying a word. Not even a Merry Christmas or Happy New Year. The silence was finally broken when a small voice echoed throughout the night.
“Humbug!” shouted one boy as he turned and disappeared out of sight.
As I stood in the cold, wet snow, everything seemed so helpless and empty. I stood that night on Little Jaybird Lane and looked out about the town as the lights slowly went off. As I sat on a bench, I tried to reason with myself and wondered what could have gone wrong. As the night passed, I dozed a bit until I was awakened by a jingle, jingle, jingle. High in the dark sky, I saw a blinking red light. It’s Santa, I thought. When he flew over the little town and disappeared out of my sight, I thought to myself that another year has gone with no presents, gifts or trees. But, wait one minute, wait a minute. What was it that I heard? Is it? Oh, no, it couldn’t be, I said to myself.
I looked to my left and then to my right. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, I heard it again. Hurriedly, I rushed to the sound as the icy snow crunched under my steps. I rushed to hear that one sweet sound; a giggle that I hadn’t heard in such a long time. I pressed my face against the cold snowy glass and quickly looked inside. I saw old Edgar and Wee Willie Ruth playing jacks. They were both laughing and giggling. They were so happy. I watched the two, the young and old, and found the answer to my question of what happened to the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas. That’s it, I thought.
Over the years, the townspeople lost their childlike heart. There’s nothing wrong with being a child at heart, at times. Look at old Edgar; he’s the oldest of them all. Hurriedly, I ran to the town square and rang the town bell. I yanked it as hard as I could. Ring-a-ling, ring-a-ling it rang throughout the town.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” I screamed. “Just because you have grown older doesn’t mean Christmas is not for you. Awake, I say.”
Immediately, the lights in every home came on and the townspeople ran outside to see what was going on. They all gathered in the town square to hear what I had to say.
“Christmas is for all, young and old. It’s celebrated with a childlike heart,” I announced.
As the townspeople looked about, they listened to what I said and then looked at each other. Then, Edgar, the oldest, and Willie Ruth, the youngest, came forth.
“Merry Christmas to you all,” said Edgar.
“I love you,” stated Willie Ruth.
“And so do I,” cried Edgar.
No one really knows what happened that night. But, whatever it was, it changed everything for the Dry Ridge community. They started laughing, giggling and having fun. They threw snowballs at each other and made snowmen. It had been a long time since they had that much fun.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” spoke up one.
“So have I,” said another.
The story has it that thei
r cold hearts grew as the snowballs flew. The faster they threw, the bigger their hearts got. When the joy and love rushed through their hearts, their long faces became short and round. Their heavy brows lifted; their eyes sparkled with their smiles. Out of nowhere, they started singing Christmas songs which warmed their hearts.
Edgar shouted, “Let’s keep this from ever happening again! We need to always keep the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas.”
“We’ll be ready for next year,” shouted the townspeople.
Now, that is what happened to the little community of Dry Ridge’s holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas. From that day forth, the Christmas spirit never left them again because they kept it in their childlike hearts.