Marshall Ramsey

Wood floors. Wood walls. Wood ceiling. And a giant wood desk. The older man sat in a study that would be the dream of any termite.  He quietly wrote into a leather black book with a fairly expensive ink pen. No computers. No sign of any other type of technology.  The room was strictly old school.  It looked more like 1890 than it did 2011.

A rustle from the other room gave way to a loud crash. The man at the desk didn’t even flinch. As he continued to write he said,  “You’re late.”

A man in a red fur-lined coat walked into the room, brushing ashes off of his arms. “You’d think you’d leave the front door unlocked.”

“You’re the magic one in the family.”

“Ho, ho, ho.” Santa looked at his brother and just shook his head.  “Do I detect bitterness my little brother?  Just because everyone thinks you live at the South Pole and come and steal kids’ toys?”

“I can’t tell you how much I despise that.”  Santa’s brother Craig Kringle waved his hand over the table. A chess set magically appeared. “Just because you were the first born you got to take over the family business — as Ben Folds sang, ‘You got the keys and I got Jackson Cannery.’ It’s not fair.”

Santa ignored his brother’s remark. “Sorry I’m late, btw. Rough night. Lots of kids just weren’t asleep this year. And then I got shot at over Iran.” He took off his jacket and slung it over a chair. He grabbed a chair and sat down on the other side of the big oak table his brother was sitting at.  He reached toward the chess set and picked up a piece.

Santa moved his first pawn. The chess game had begun.

“Business is up 34% this year thanks to the bailout. God bless the Federal Reserve. Yup, my bonus was off the charts.”  Craig Kringle ran a huge and highly profitable hedge fund.  He chuckled as he moved his first pawn.

The two brothers had been competitors since they were young boys.  Their father had died 100 years ago and that launched a huge fight.  Kris legally outmaneuvered his brother and took over the family empire.  Their whole life had been a chess match.

“How is Kris Jr. handling more responsibility?”

“He won’t need a bailout, if that’s what you mean.”  Kris enjoyed taking every shot he could at his brother.  He made his next move.

“You know you look childish running around with elves and giving away toys.” Craig made his move.

“How many people did you lay off this year?  How big was your bonus because of it.” Santa moved another piece.  Craig’s face cringed.

Craig lifted his hand and a drink floated into the room.  “Bourbon and water?”

Santa lifted his hand and a hot chocolate appeared.  “No thanks.”

Craig made a bold move. “Check.”

Santa chuckled. “Ho, ho, ho.  Always the risk taker, aren’t you little brother?” Santa quickly made a bold move of his own and took Craig’s Queen.

“Always the goody two shoes.  The world is so over you, brother.  Greed. Power. That’s what people want now. Not ‘Goodwill on Earth and Peace unto Man.’  You are going to have to realize that.  I’m winning now.  Dad messed up when he gave you everything.” Craig made another move on the chess board.

“Daddy issues again?” Santa looked his brother in the eye and waved his hand. The piece moved itself.

“No. Just reality. While you’re out there eating cookies and milk, I’m raking in big money.  Do you know how many politicians I now control? Washington might as well be called Craigville.” He moved a piece and smiled a toothy grin. “Check.”

Santa rubbed his beard and studied the board. Then a twinkle in his eye revealed his next moved — he was just glad they weren’t playing poker.

“Little brother, good and evil have battled since Cain and Able. You and I are no different.  You might think you have the upper hand, but people still believe in me. They believe in good. They crave hope.  Remember the reason for the Season my little brother. Remember the baby in the manager.”

And with that, Santa moved his Queen three spaces.  “Checkmate.”

Craig Kringle waved his hand again and the chess board disappeared.  Santa stood up, finished his hot chocolate and then put on his coat. “Same time next year?”

“Same time next year. You know you won’t keep getting lucky. Oh yeah, say hello to Mrs. Claus.”

“Will do. Merry Christmas, little brother.”

And with that, Santa put his finger next to his nose and disappeared up the chimney.

The rising sun gently kissed the sleeping land on the cheek.  As it stirred, the sky pulled back the deep purple blankets revealing a frosty fall morning.  A new day had begun for a small town in a small state. And in an even smaller cafe sat a man trying to find his pulse.

“I’m glad Edison invented coffee,” Fred said to Sally the waitress as she refilled his cup.

Sally rolled her eyes and said, “Edison didn’t invent coffee. Michelangelo did.”

Fred Evison was much like the small town he lived in: Both had seen better days.  The town was full of rotting wood, peeling paint and abandoned buildings.  Fred was overweight, exhausted and full of abandoned dreams.  He took another sip of the cafe’s coffee.  It tasted like crap but had caffeine in it.  That’s all Fred really cared about.

He needed to get his brain restarted. “Hell,” he thought,”I need to get my life restarted.”

The Great Recession had cut through the town like locusts with a thyroid problem. The mill closed and went to China.  The car dealership had been closed by GM.  Four of the local stores were put under by the Walmart out on the bypass.  Several families had already pulled up stakes to look for work. There was still a heartbeat but it was feint.

Fred took another sip and wondered it what to do next. No jobs meant no hope.  No hope meant the town would wither up and die.

A Christmas tune cheerfully played on the radio. Fred wasn’t totally sure if he would take the song’s advice to “Have a Merry Little Christmas.”  Another sip of coffee and another jolt of warmth sliding to his chilled heart.

Fred had worked at the local paper and had lost his job as a writer.  “It’s just business,” is what the editor told him as he handed him the pink slip.  It wasn’t just business to him; it was personal. The editor hadn’t had to see his wife cry.  He hadn’t had to find a way to pay for his baby girl’s surgery. The editor still had a job.It was easy to be as bitter as the coffee as he was drinking.

But he wasn’t.  He was just tired. And hurt.

He came to the restaurant every morning looking for coffee and answers.  At least he found coffee.

Fred Evison was a storyteller and right now, the story he’d tell about himself wasn’t very interesting.  In fact, if he had a musical soundtrack, it would’ve been a sad trombone.

He picked up the menu to read the breakfast specials.

Pity Party sampler. $5.99

Fred looked around. Was Sally playing a joke on him?  He picked up another menu and it said the same thing. He looked back down and adjusted his reading glasses.

Find Great Stories to Tell with a side of bacon $6.99

Fred looked around and wondered what the heck was going on.  The next menu item made him pause again.

Bowl of “Be a Voice for others in the same boat as you.” $2.99

Passion with a side of ham. $3.99

Use your talent, don’t just sit here and drink coffee with pancakes.  $4.99

Fred’s hands were shaking at this point. He had found answers with his coffee after all! For the first time since he had been downsized, he felt the passion rise in his soul.  His heart warmed on its own, no need for boiling-hot coffee.  Fred left a huge tip and walked out of the restaurant with his chest puffed out and his pride restored.  The door’s clanging bell announced that Fred Evison had left the building.

Sally walked back out, pocketed the tip and said, “He’s gone.”

Fred’s wife emerged from the kitchen with a smile on her face.  “Sally, you’re absolutely the best actress ever. That was Oscar-worthy.”

“I was in Hollywood in my 20’s,” Sally grinned. “That’s where I learned how to wait tables. He read those menus and didn’t suspect a thing.”

“The poor man needed a sign so I gave him one,” his wife said. “I printed the menus up last week. He was so self-absorbed he was clueless.  Thanks for helping me pull it off.”

“No problem. Love your husband to death but he has been about as much fun as a canker sore lately.”

Both women laughed and watched as Fred Levison headed into the new day and into the next phase of his career.

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.