Marshall Ramsey

The office Holiday party had ended and the pity party had begun. Charlie Turner sat in the high-rise office building, sulking. Everyone else had gotten Christmas Eve afternoon off. But not Charlie. Oh no. The mountain of paper on his desk meant that he had to work on the night before Christmas. So he sat behind his desk, staring out at the empty cityscape. No cars. No people. No good reason why he had to be sitting there. Looking at the pictures of his family on his desk made him really want to be home with them. City Hall’s Christmas tree’s lights came on and the stars illuminated the cold, dark sky. It was going to be a long night. And he was pissed.

It had been a terrible year. Business was down. Layoffs were up. Furloughs had decimated his already shrinking paycheck. Insurance costs were through the roof and his checking account was struggling. His office was on the 18th floor but his morale was 18 stories below ground. How could it get any worse?

2011 was the worst year ever. And he would tell you 1,000 reasons why.

When the clock read 10 p.m., he had had enough. He shut down his computer and turned out his office light. He waked through the empty cubicles and headed to the elevator. The guard in the lobby wished him a Merry Christmas as he headed to his car. If the guard would have noticed, he would have seen a black cloud over Charlie’s head.

The cold wind stung his face as he walked out of the office building. The usually busy street was empty of people and cars. He turned to the right and headed toward the parking garage. The tinkle of a bell jarred him into the moment. He looked back to the left and there was an elderly black man in a Santa suit. Ding. Ding. Ding. “Alms for the poor?” the man shouted.

Charlie looked at him and said, “Not getting much business tonight, are you old timer?” The man smiled and just kept ringing the bell. A wave of guilt washed over Charlie and prompted him to dig into his pocket for some change. The coins rattled in the empty kettle and the old man said, “Thank you, sir. By the way, your life isn’t as bad as you think. And after tonight, you’ll know why.”

Charlie scoffed as he bundled himself against the cold. What was that old man talking about? And how smart was he anyway? Begging on a night like tonight. What an idiot.

Consumed in his self pity, Charlie got into his car and tried to crank it. Nothing. He tried again. Nothing again. The battery was totally dead. “#$%#$.”

He called his wife, broke the bad news to her and called AAA. He waited 30 minutes until the tow-truck driver arrived. When he stepped out of the truck, Charlie heard, “Why do I have to be out here in this cold to help this moron?”

Charlie, shocked, said, “That’s rude as Hell. I’m not a moron.”

“I didn’t say anything.” the driver said. And then Charlie heard, “How did he know that?”

Charlie realized, he was hearing the man’s thoughts.

“I’d rather be with my wife tonight. Instead, I’m here because this idiot left his lights on. She’s dying of cancer and I’m standing in the middle of downtown at night. I hate my life.”

Charlie was stunned. He thanked the man and gave him a nice tip. He then headed out of town and toward the suburbs.

Three miles on the interstate and tphis car’s engine started knocking. “#$%$,” he thought. The low-fuel light had been on for two days and he hadn’t gotten gas. And now he was paying for it. He eased the car off the highway and into one of the few open gas stations around. Could tonight get worse?

Charlie rolled up to the gas pump right as the engine died. He started pumping gas and began to hear the thoughts of the people all around him. He heard the lady behind the counter, “Six kids, one sick, I’m about to lose my house and I have to work three jobs.” He then heard the guy pumping gas next to him. “Christmas Eve and my family is in Dallas. My stupid wife left me for my best friend and now I can’t even see my kids tomorrow.” And then he heard a policeman’s thoughts,”I hope I don’t get shot tonight.” A little old lady walked out of the store, “I wish my son was here with me for Christmas instead of in jail. I need someone to be with me when I get back my results from the biopsy.” Another man thought, “I hope my only son makes it back from Afghanistan.”

He began to hear the worries of people driving by on the interstate and then from people in his whole town. Everyone’s thoughts got louder and louder and began to drown out Charlie’s own. He grabbed the receipt out of the pump and hopped back in the car, hoping for silence. It wouldn’t come. He put his hands over his ears and yelled, “MAKE IT STOP!”

And then Charlie saw him. He was standing next to the door to the convenience store ringing his bell next to a kettle. It was the same eldery black man dressed in a Santa suit who Charlie had seen outside of his office building. Charlie heard, “Alms for the poor!”

Charlie got out of his car and ran over to the man pleading, “Who are you?!?”

The man stopped ringing the bell and said to Charlie, “See? Your life isn’t so bad. These are tough times. And everyone you meet is walking around with their own cross to bear. So I gave you a little gift. The gift of being able to hear other peoples’ worries. It’s a little Christmas gift so you can have a little empathy and realize you don’t have it so bad. So get your head out of your rear end. Go home to your beautiful family and enjoy your Christmas. And then go and enjoy your life. It’s really a good one, you know. You should learn to appreciate it. Oh, and to answer your question, I’m getting plenty of business tonight.”

And at that moment, the voices in Charlie’s head went silent.

Charlie, blessed with an epiphany, dug out his wallet and threw three $20’s into the kettle. “Merry Christmas old timer.” The old man smiled and started ringing his bell again, looking for his next customer.

Thanks to a mysterious old man with a bell and a kettle, Charlie Turner truly began appreciate the blessings in his life. He vowed to make it and others’ better. And from that Christmas Eve on, he never complained again.

The festive lights of Canton, Mississippi’s square burned through the gloom of the falling mist.  It was late Christmas Eve and most of the residents had gone to bed. They hoped for a visit from the North Pole’s most famous resident (and dreamed of all the joy that Christmas brings.)  Two dark figures were silhouetted as they headed quickly toward the mansions along Peace Street.

Edward Willingham II and his dog Peyton hurried to get out of the cold, miserable rain. There was nothing special about this night to the beaten-down man. Christmas had died five years ago along with his wife JoAnne.

Edward and JoAnne had had it all.  He was a successful banker in town. She was the glue that held the city’s social scene together.  But emergency heart surgery had ended all that.  She had died three times on the table due to uncontrolled bleeding and then slipped into a coma.  She died the fourth and final time three months later after Edward had to make the painful decision to pull the plug. That decision had cost him more than just the love of his life — It also cost him his son and granddaughter.  The father and son disagreed violently about taking the brain-dead woman off of life-support. Security had to be called to break up the fight between the two grieving men in the hospital that sad December day.  Now he didn’t even know where they lived.

Edward unlocked the five locks on his door and disarmed the security system. He reset it and went into the old mansion.  Any semblance of it being a home had faded with JoAnne’s death. Now it was a big, dark, empty bachelor pad, full of empty cans and broken dreams.  He went to the kitchen, got a snack for Peyton and a glass of bourbon for himself.  Like every night, his green recliner was calling to him like a siren song.   He once again gave into its temptation and Peyton jumped into his lap.  He sat in silence, missing his wife and dreamed about what his granddaughter looked like.

Just as he was nodding off to sleep, he heard a thump on the roof. He quickly grabbed his shotgun and prepared to dust off the Castle Doctrine.  But when he ran outside, he saw nothing. Then suddenly, he heard bells and he looked quickly to the northern sky. There he thought he saw something fly quickly away.  As he stared at the sky, a scroll of paper fell out of the sky and hit him in the head.

Startled, he ducked down and saw something in the grass. It was old-looking parchment with a red ribbon around it.  He grabbed it with his free hand and he and Peyton walked back into the house.

A flick of a switch turned on his office’s lights.  He sat down at his desk and carefully took the ribbon off so he could unroll the scroll.  It was blank. “Odd,” he thought. “Why would a blank scroll just fall out of the sky?”  And as he started to roll it back up, he noticed words begin to magically appear on the paper.

“Santa’s List.”

Edward, who did not believe in Christmas, felt his jaw drop. What kind of joke was this?  He ran back outside and heard bells yet again.  And then he saw it — a small sleigh being pulled by actual flying reindeer.  Edward thought of the drink he had been drinking and shook his head to clear it.  OK, so unless what he was seeing was a complete figment of his imagination, Santa was real.  And then he paused for a moment and thought — and I HAVE HIS LIST.

Edward ran back into the house and unrolled the list again.  It read:

“Santa’s List.”

Number one — Give a bear to the precious girl with no hair. 242 State Street, Jackson, MS

He turned on his iPad and quickly looked up the address.  It was the state’s children’s hospital.  A sick little girl would not be getting her present.  And at that moment, a man who did not believe in Christmas vowed to finish Santa’s list.  “C’mon, Peyton.  We have work to do.”

So the old man and his dog hopped into his Lexus SUV and headed into the night.

He found a big-box discount store still open and quickly purchased the biggest bear he could find.  He then discovered a Santa suit on discount and bought it, too.  If he was going to be Santa, he had to look the part.  He  and Peyton drove south down I-55 to the hospital.  Santa Edward stopped at the nurses’ station and gave little Jennie Jenkins her precious bear.

He unrolled the scroll and saw the request marked off.  Then another request appeared:

Number two — Help out Mike and give him a bike. 6754 Whispering Pines Lane, Brandon, MS.

At another store, a groggy worker helped Santa Edward load up the bike into the back of the SUV.  Santa Edward delivered it with a big red ribbon on little Mike’s carport.

The scroll once again magically marked off another thing off the list. Then the next item appeared:

Number three — Little Riley Jane really wants a video game. 4564 Oak Hollow Lane, Madison, MS.

Santa Edward returned to the store and quickly loaded a Nintendo Wii into his backseat.  He drove to Madison and dropped the gift off at the brick home. He then sat in the cul-de sac waiting for the scroll to reveal his next mission.

Number four — Jemal wants a brand new football.  213 Wiley Post Circle, Jackson.

Santa Edward dropped off a brand new Rawlings football to a very deserving child.   He pulled into a gas station in Ridgeland to fill up his tank. He looked at his watch — it was 5 a.m.  “I don’t know how you do it, old man, but delivering toys is not for sissies.” Edward said to himself as he pumped gas.  He then reached into the front seat and pulled back out the list.  The previous four requests were tidily scratched out and now a fifth one appeared:

Number five: She asked for a glove but what she really needs is your love.  293 Bells Valley Road, Florence.

While he did not understand the second part, he went back to the big box store and bought a nice softball glove and tied a red ribbon around it.  He started the SUV and he and Peyton headed south down Highway 49 to the town of Florence.

The dawn was breaking when he arrived at the small brick ranch house.  The rising sun caused shadows that tickled the land. He pulled into the driveway, killed the engine and quietly tried to get up the front door without being heard.  But just then, a light went on and the door flew open.

Standing there was a man and a little girl. “Dad? What are you doing here?”  The little girl looked just like her grandmother JoAnne.

Edward stood there stunned, wearing a Santa suit and holding a glove. Tears began to stream down his tired but loving face.  As the father and son hugged and the little girl played with her new friend Peyton, the real Santa Claus flew over the house and smiled.  Christmas wishes do come true.  All thanks to Santa’s List.