Marshall Ramsey

11:35 a.m. In a small southern city, two young professionals walked out of their respective office towers at precisely the same time.  The man, an engineer, headed toward the south to Ralph’s Downtown Deli for his usual lunch.  The woman, a lawyer who normally ate at her desk, headed to the Post Office to mail a package to her Auntie in Nashville.

11:39 a.m.  Both the man and the woman stopped for a moment.  The man bent down and picked up a penny on heads (for luck) and the woman got caught at the traffic light at the intersection of Capitol and Main.  Each looked at their watch and began walking precisely one minute later.

11:42 a.m. The man ran into an old friend he knew from college and said hello.  The woman noticed her reflection in a building and adjusted her skirt.  Both turned a corner and were now heading directly toward each other.

11:45 a.m. The man looked up (he normally walked with his head down due to a clumsy habit of tripping over his own feet) and saw the woman who was approaching him.  The woman, who had turned her head to the right to admire the beautiful mural on the local building, turned her head and saw the man. At that moment they made eye contact. That was when it happened.

Both saw their future together.  He saw her giving him her phone number. And then their first date. It was a romantic dinner and then a play. And then they both felt the electricity of their first kiss. Of the warmth of the other’s lips and the connection between them. She saw him get down on one knee and ask for her hand. He saw her beauty as she walked down the aisle all dressed in white.  She felt the pain and the ecstasy of the birth of their first child, a little boy. He felt the pain as she squeezed his hand during labor. She watched as their first born went into school for the first time. He smelled the aroma as he changed the diaper of their second child, a little girl.

Time begin to fly faster as they continued to stare at each other.  Soon their children were graduating from college. Their son was in medical school. Their daughter was top at her law school just like her mother was so many years ago.  Their son soon graduated and went into oncology research.  Their daughter began practicing law and became a defense lawyer. Their son pioneered a breakthrough in cancer research saving millions of lives.  Their daughter freed several innocent men and women wrongly on death row.

A car horn blared and the connection was broken.

They looked at each other for a second and realized they were about to run in to each other.

11:46 a.m. The man (not having the courage to act on what he just saw) just said, “Excuse me.” The woman (who also lacked the courage to act) just said, “I’m sorry.”  Both walked around each other and headed on their way.  They never saw each other again.

And at that precise moment, the world was changed forever.

The cold front had brought the ducks in and blown the mosquitoes out. It was the best time of year in the small Mississippi town.  The old friends sat on the front porch and watched the sun dip beneath the distant row of trees.

“Sure is pretty.”

The tallest of the group spoke, paused and then took another sip of his drink. This was an annual ritual for he and his friends.  For 25 years they met on this night and remembered the man who had changed all their lives.

“Is that the best you can come up with, Shakespeare?  You can’t describe a sight this beautiful any better than ‘Sure is pretty?'” The slightly overweight balding man poked at his taller friend.

“Well, it is pretty,” said Stan Carmichael (the tall one) as he defended himself.  It was his farm where they were all staying.  He had become one of the South’s richest farmers. The 14 men sitting on the porch now lived all across the United States.

“I’d give anything to do it all again.” Mick Godfrey (the balding man) and an attorney in New York City said abruptly. “To play the game one more time.”

“Where did the time go?” Fred Durham, a red-headed accountant from Tennessee chimed in.

They were the surviving members of their high school football team. Cancer had taken Johnny Friese. A car crash had taken Joey Thomas.  The Gulf War had taken Sgt. Bill Winston.  A deer hunting accident cost Billy Franklin his life. Every year, they came to toast the memory of their fallen friends and their coach who had taught them so much.

“Wish Coach could be here to see this,” Mick said as he took another sip of his drink. “I hate that a man so wise had to die like that.”

“Alzhemier’s a bitch, ” Jerry Blount, a former wide-receiver and now judge chimed in. “I named my first kid after the man.  It’s amazing the difference a small-town football coach can make.”

The group collectively nodded.  As the sun set, lights appeared on the northern horizon.

“Lights are on.  It’s game time,” Fred said.  “Time to go.”

Out front of the huge farmhouse there were three limos waiting.  The Championship team of 1986 piled into their chariots and rode to the arena.

As the limos barreled down the gravel road, they remember the pillars that their Coach had taught them. They were pillars that they had built their lives on. They were the foundations for their success.

1. Have a plan.

2. Make every play your best.

3. Smile when you talk. Attitude is everything.

4. Don’t let your opponent inside your head.

5. Outwork your opponent.

6. Believe in yourself. If you don’t, no one else will.

7. Keep it simple.

8. Laugh at the things that scare you and you’ll be better off.

9. Have faith.

10. Give back to others.

“They seemed so simple when we were 18,” Fred laughed. ” But they got me through cancer.”

“They got me through law school.”

“And basic training.”

All the men told stories how the pillars had changed their lives.

The three limos pulled into the parking lot and then onto the track.  The friends all stepped out onto the field right as the pregame ceremonies began.  The conquering heroes waved to the cheering hometown crowd.

The principal introduced them. “We’d like to welcome the 1986 State Champions.  And with an announcement, here’s former quarterback Mick Godfrey.”  He handed the mic to the balding former player.  He had to wait a minute as the crowd gave them a standing ovation.

“Coach Lee Jones made in an impact on our lives. Sure, he was a simple football coach. But he was also a crafter of men.  Today the 1986 Championship team would like to announce three things.  First, We are paying off the stadium’s debt. It will forever be known as Coach Lee Jones Stadium. Second, we’re making a sizable donation to Alzheimer’s research.  Coach Jones’ memory deserves no less. And third, we have raised $4 million to create a scholarship fund so the students of this town can have the same opportunities we had. Coach Jones may not be with us anymore, but the Coach Jones scholarship will continue his legacy for years to come.”

The crowd in the stadium sat stunned.  These men, these former football players who had been known as football heroes twenty-five years ago, had yet another championship moment on their old playing field. From now on, they’d be known as heroes for a much bigger reason. Because champions don’t just win one game. They change the game for others. Coach Jones’ championship team had just changed the game for that small Mississippi town forever.

“Think Coach would be proud of us? ” Stan Carmichael whispered to Mick Godfrey.

“Yeah, we finally mastered pillar #10.”

The debit card’s stripe was hot.  Lola had run her plastic through so many machines that day that she swore she smelled the smell of it melting. It was Black Friday and she was trying to single-handedly fix the U.S. Economy.  So far, she was succeeding.

She pushed a 90-year-old woman out of the way to get to the last 19-inch LCD HDTV and triumphantly put it in her cart.  A kid who was didn’t get out of her way fast enough felt the pain of the shopping cart running over his toes.  She had heard about the woman with the pepper spray. Seemed amateurish to her.  She would have used a Taser.

“Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men, my butt,” she thought. “Move out of the way so I can get a toaster for a buck. Christmas is about survival of the fittest.”

She looked around and saw that the landscape was picked over. If the three Wise men had shopped at this Mall, the baby Jesus would have been lucky to have ended up with a Snuggie and a set of insulated glasses.

Lola had tried to explain to her husband that what she was doing was like deer hunting. The Mall was like deer camp.  Her hunt involved big bucks and she was looking for a trophy.  Her husband had rolled his eyes; he normally did. But he wouldn’t be complaining on Christmas morning. Oh no.  Ho ho ho and been replaced with Mo’ mo’ mo’.

This was what Christmas was about to her. Buying stuff. In bulk. And on sale.

She walked out to the car and put another rounds of shopping bags into her trunk. Looking into the massive well filled with bags, she began to hum, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.”  And then she said to herself, “Oh Kris Kringle, I’m beginning to tingle.”

As Lola walked back to the Mall, she noticed an olive-skinned man with a beard and ratty clothes.  He approached her (making her nervous of course) and held out his hand.  “A little something for the poor for this season.”

Lola gripped her Mace with her right hand as she clutched her purse with her left.

She felt fear.  Black Friday didn’t refer to the day of shopping. It was the condition of her heart at that very moment. “I’m reacting like anyone else would in the same situation,” she thought.

The man just stood there and looked at Lola. Lola just stood there and looked at the man.  She nervously fumbled the Mace in her hand as she stared at his piercing eyes.  Seconds seemed like hours.  And then he broke the silence.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Lolo looked at the man for a minute and felt her grip loosen on her Mace.  She also felt a sudden wave of peace that loosened her heart.  A sense of what the Season was really about washed over her. She looked at the man and said, “Walk with me.”  Her words even shocked her.

Lola burned up her card once again. This time she wasn’t buying stuff to be buying stuff. She bought the man a meal. And then a nice new winter coat. (both on sale, of course).  As the stranger walked out of the Mall, he shouted, “Merry Christmas, Lola.”

“How did he know my name?” she wondered as she followed him outside.

As Lola walked out into the Mall parking lot that cold Black Friday night, she noticed the stranger had vanished. And in his place was a brilliant bright star in the Eastern sky.  For the rest of her life, she’d call it what it was: The Black Friday Miracle.

Howdy! Thanks for stopping by — I think you’ll find all kinds of stuff here on this blog.  It’s the one place where I can let my mind go.  Needless to say, I hope you enjoy it.  If you look to the right and toward the bottom, you will see a blogroll. It’s a collection of some of my favorite short stories.  I hope you enjoy them as much as I did writing them.

Monday’s Prayer: In this Season of Giving, remind me to give my best at all times.