Welcome to Newtonberg
Page 12
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The parade went by quickly. The children were excited to see Santa Claus, and Mike had to admit that he enjoyed it. The people lining Commerce Street to watch the procession were all smiles, and no one seemed to mind or notice that Al wasn’t playing Santa this year.
At the football field, Cliff Magnuson made his way through the crowds checking on each booth, making sure that there were no problems. As he walked, he stopped occasionally to talk to the families waiting in line, greeting people he saw every day as well as former residents who had moved away.
He paused briefly to say hello to Emily Kelly and her husband. Emily, who had always considered Cliff to be a surrogate grandfather, insisted that he hold Little Philip. He hadn’t seen the baby before, except in the photograph that Cap showed off every chance he had. He had to admit to feeling a bit odd. He hadn’t held a baby since he’d held his own son, Jeff.
It was a bittersweet moment. Jeff would have been a little younger than Emily, if he hadn’t been killed during Operation Desert Storm. He was only 22. Cliff’s wife had never quite gotten over it. She mourned his death every day until she passed away herself, not too long after the Widow Missus lost her husband.
At least Little Philip didn’t seem to be a fussy baby. He didn’t cry at all when Cliff took him from Emily. The baby stared up at him with wide, wondering eyes with his fist in his mouth.
He stared at the small trusting face and smiled. Life goes on, he thought. We lose the ones we love, but we can’t let that keep us from loving others.
Cliff handed the baby back to Emily, wished them all well, and headed to Santa’s Workshop to make sure everything was ready for the kids. Mike was there, pacing.
“Where’s Janet?” asked Cliff.
“She’s off tracking down the photographer,” Mike replied. “He was in the marching band and was supposed to retrieve the camera from his mother.”
Cliff looked him over. “Well, you sure look the part. The kids won’t even notice you’re not Al. You might even give old John Swenson a run for his money.”
Mike chuckled. “He said the same thing.”
Cliff looked out at the crowd that was beginning to gather and saw Janet making her way toward the tent along with a teenager holding a camera. The young man was still in his marching band uniform.
“Well, it looks like it’s just about time. You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Mike smiled at him. “Have you got the whiskey?”
Cliff laughed, remembering the Founder’s Day incident. “Nope. Never again. The hardest drink you’re getting from me is root beer.”
Janet stepped into the tent. “Okay, Mike. It’s time.”
Mike took a deep breath and stepped out. He made his way to the overstuffed red velvet chair that was set up on a small raised platform. A Christmas tree was set up on one side of the chair. A small table with a bowl full of candy canes was on the other. The chair itself had been brought over from the Widow Missus’s boarding house, where it normally sat in a corner of the living room. It had been her husband’s favorite chair and had been used for every Christmas Festival since the beginning.
Mike sat down and looked out at the line of children and parents waiting. It seemed to go on forever and he knew it would be a few hours before he was finished.
At least it was well-organized. When a child entered to meet Santa, the child’s parents were led to a waiting area about ten feet away from the platform so they could hear what the child said. Mike greeted the child, asked their name and what they wanted for Christmas. After the child finished, they would have their picture taken and Mike would hand them a candy cane. Another helper (a high school girl also in need of volunteer service as part of her National Honor Society membership) would retrieve the picture and lead them to the waiting area to meet their parents. Then Janet would lead the next child to the platform.
When it came time for Little Philip Kelly to have his picture taken, Cap asked Emily if he could take the baby up to the platform. Emily agreed, and he gently took the sleeping baby from her.
As he headed up to the platform, Cap looked down at the face of his nephew and whispered to him. “Now, Little Philip, I don’t want you to be afraid. This is a good friend of mine. He won’t hurt you.” He smiled as he handed the baby to Mike. “Isn’t he just the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”
“Yes, he is, Cap. He’s beautiful.”
Mike looked into Little Philip’s face and spoke softly. “So, you’re Little Philip, huh?” The baby kept his eyes closed, not a care in the world.
“Well, since you can’t tell me what you want for Christmas, let me tell you what I wish for you instead.
“My wish is that as you grow up you never forget how much you are loved by your family: your mother, your father, your grandmother, and especially your uncle. You’re not just named after him, you’re a part of him; a piece of his spirit and love that will live on long after he is gone.
“I also wish that you will never forget how lucky you are to have a connection to this town. No matter where you live, there is a part of you that is tied to this wonderful place. This is your hometown. The people here are just as much your family as those who are related to you by blood.
“But most of all, I wish for you a life of happiness, contentment, and love. I can’t promise you that life will be easy. But if you are happy with your choices in life, content with where you are and what you do for a living, and have the love of your family and friends, you have everything you’ll ever need.”
He motioned to the photographer to take the photo. As he handed the baby back to his uncle, there were tears in Cap’s eyes. He’d heard everything Mike had said. “Thank you, Mike,” he whispered.
Mike looked at him. “Merry Christmas, Cap.”