Homeless for the holidays

 They hadn't always lived in their van. After suddenly losing everything months ago, it became their only home. Today, I saw them parked far from the Walmart, so the kids wouldn't hear the cruel taunts. It was never their fault; they had only a few cherished belongings in their battered backpacks—each item a distant memory.

They were once part of his congregation at St. Mary's church and were given temporary shelter when the air was freezing, and their van had no working heater. His heart ached for them, along with the masses of others finding themselves in the same situation. The youngest little girl was first to see me and ran to me with open arms. I embraced the child, which seemed to comfort her.

I looked in the van, seeing the teenage boy slumped down in his seat, begging his dad to leave as he saw a group of his school friends approaching with malicious intent to cause the family even more heartache. I recognized some of the kids from church, and as they approached, they recognized me as well and turned away. Thanks, Father the boy said as he quickly dried his tears.

I asked the grownups if they needed anything, and all they came up with was that some kind of kindness would find them, and their children could have one present to open on Christmas morning. I told them I'd see what I could do and left them lost in life, but never without faith, that something good would happen.

An elderly couple with a full cart approached the van and stopped. We thought you could use this the lady said. There's plenty of food, some blankets, and a box of Christmas cookies, bringing smiles to the family's faces and gratitude from the parents.

It wasn't long before a young man, maybe 20, stopped by the van and handed the dad an envelope. There are four gift cards in there, he said. I was going to give one to the Uber driver and another to my favorite pizza delivery girl. And the other two, he said, I was going to keep for an emergency, but see, they would do you the most good.

The kids were smiling for the first time in a long time, taking great pleasure in the kindness shown to them by perfect strangers. More shoppers stopped at the van, and one offered his help by providing a room for two nights at the motel he owned just outside town. It all seemed too good to be true, but I knew it was the hand of God reaching down to touch this family that had never asked for anything but an everyday life.

You'll be at the Christmas fest, won't you? I asked, and the kids quickly answered that they would come. But we will have to get ready Mom said. The motel owner handed her a key, telling her they were welcome to check in, have a hot shower, and change their clothes, somewhere buried in the boxes containing their life story.

They attended the festival mingling with the others, most of whom they didn't know, and the few good souls that had helped them bring a van full of dume to kids with smiling faces. Santa made an appearance, handing out presents to the boys and girls who all looked the same to him, with their hearts beating fast as they thanked him and made room for the little girl in the van.

Hello, Mary, Santa said. Don't you look just beautiful tonight? This year hasn't been what you were expecting, has it? Mary nodded, wiping away a tear. But good things happen to good people, and from what I've seen, you and your family have made many new friends here tonight. Santa reached into his big red sack and looked around in it for a minute, coming up with the most beautiful baby doll he could find. For me, Mary asked. Yes, child, for you. But Santa, how do you know my name?

Well, he began last year, you wished for this very same doll, and the elves worked very hard to make you the most beautiful doll any girl would love and take care of. But when I came to your house on Christmas Eve, the house was dark and empty. I saw it many times last year, so I put the doll back in my sack and hoped I'd somehow find you and give it back to you. And here you are!

The family who lived in a van counted their blessings every day, knowing that people are genuinely good and want to help each other. They found their way not long after and moved into a small house as soon as Dad took a job at Walmart loading trucks. Mom joined volunteer groups, helping anyone who requested it and some who initially rejected, until Mom told them our story. The kids flourished at their new school, making many friends and making it their mission to educate people about homelessness.

A cold winter night, a van, and four people who never lost their faith in man, and of course, Santa Claus.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

Homelessness is an epidemic faced by thousands of people across the land. We tend to ignore them, shielding children from them as if they were outlaws. The reality is we don't know their stories and shouldn't pretend we do. It only takes one act of kindness to change someone's life. Be that person who cares enough to reach out.

                                                                        

Mall Christmas chaos

 

Just days before Christmas, a crowd of shoppers scrambles for the last gifts and discounts. I watch as kids run wild, trailed by older siblings who double as reluctant babysitters. Their mom waits at the wrapping booth, having gifts wrapped that couldn't be seen until Christmas morning.

A distraught young girl looks at jewelry prices she can't afford. As she leaves, she checks her phone, maybe texting her best friend for help. My hope is that she realizes the gift's size or cost doesn't matter; it will bring joy to her mom because it was given with love.

There's a young man at the food court guarding packages his wife left for him to watch, but his attention was more on the girls passing by. He sipped some coffee, smiling and remembering that he met his wife right here as she passed by, smiling at him, and little did he know at the time that she would become his wife.

I noticed an elderly gentleman slowly working his way through the crowd to a table where his lady of 60 years patiently waited for him to arrive with what was, by now, lukewarm coffee. She didn't care; she was grateful somebody didn't knock him over.

Then there was Santa Claus sitting on his throne, dressed better than most mall Santas. His beard was long and white, his hair long and clean. His boots looked handmade and nothing like any boots he'd ever seen. I stood not far away, so I heard some of the kids' wishes, which brought a smile as I remembered as a boy telling Santa my most favorite toy in the whole world was a GI Joe action figure and that I'd been good all year, well, mostly all year, and would he please bring that toy to me." " I'll see what I can do, Billy," he said, and gave me a wink.

I saw a kid holding onto his mom's hand as she moved faster than a brisk walk on a mission to grab the last video in stock, only to find the store was taking orders and that it would be in stock in two weeks. That wouldnt do. I admired her persistence as she approached the customer who snagged the last video, offering him double what he paid for it. He agreed, saying he thinks his grandson already has the video anyway.

One more time, I found myself in front of Santa, who had hung the sign he must be leaving, as tomorrow night he'd be on his way with a full sleigh and millions of miles to go. He turned to walk away, looked at me, and smiled a gentle smile, asking if I liked the GI Joe action figure. It was what you asked for, wasn't it, Billy?

I found my wife in the dwindling crowd, her arms full of packages, but all I could think of was how in the name of Rudolph did he know who I was? Oh well, its christmas and anything can happen, especially if you believe.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE

Mike  2025

My ship

USS Koelsch. In 1971, at 17, my Mom signed the papers so I could enlist early. With peach fuzz and acne, I endured boot camp and A school, then became a signalman aboard the USS Koelsch DE-1049.

Life on a Destroyer escort was challenging. Mastering tasks and duty stations demanded precision. At sea, it was beautiful and often terrifying.

I made good friends aboard the ship. Close quarters meant you quickly got to know your bunkmates. It was a good life for a kid who left behind the wild days of craziness in exchange for becoming someone who could be counted on when the stakes were high.

I didn't appreciate how much of the world we saw, places like Spain, Italy, France, South Africa, Greece, Barcelona, and the Rock of Gibraltar, to name a few. At 18, my interests were mostly joining some shipmates, exploring the temptations of the flesh, and holding more liquor than anybody can handle.

I spent 3 years aboard the Koelsch, and I'll never forget one minute of it. I often find myself thinking back to those days and wish I could do it all again. Hell, I wish I could remember it all, but some things are best left forgotten.

Mike 2025                                     

The guitar man

 It started with an old hand-me-down guitar I found at a garage sale. If only it could talk—what stories would it tell? The house belonged to a little-known musician. Pictures and sheet music piqued my curiosity, so I asked the person in charge about him. She smiled, pleased by my interest, and began to share his story.

In 1960, my son fell in love with the music of those times. He attended Woodstock and taught himself to play the songs of Crosby, Stills, and Nash, Neil Young, Cat Stephens, and many others. He soon began writing his own songs and eventually performed in coffee shops and other small venues to gauge audience reactions, which were generally considered pretty good.

He was approached by a record producer at one such venue, who gave him his card and told him he should consider becoming a studio guitarist, as his playing was very good, and you never knew when someone with a say would offer him a contract. So his life as a studio guitarist grew, and over time, he found himself playing with some of the names he had grown up loving.

His talent followed him to cities across the land, where he played with Eric Clapton, Bruce Springsteen, and others who recognized his talent. It wasnt long before he had the opportunity to play his own songs as a solo artist, opening concerts for the headliners. His music was more than a story written on a tour bus; it was the sound of his heart, his soul, his very existence.

It sounds like he was meant to be who he was, playing with the most famous bands across the globe and getting his own music heard by the world. What happened to him he asked his Mom. She sat with his old guitar across her lap as she softly plucked the strings, and said, "I imagine in his heart he knew the music had stopped coming to him, that his words, although meaningful, didn't matter to him anymore." It was as if the well finally dried up, leaving him with melodies too difficult to compose and words too hard to write.

He quit touring and returned home, where he only played to himself and his Mom. When he developed arthritis in his hands, he put the guitar in the garage along with his sheet music and pictures of himself with the greatest musicians of all time. She hoped someone who might know of him would buy those things and keep his image alive for generations to come. It seemed to her that people with talent sometimes got overlooked but never overbooked.

I walked away with every piece of sheet music he composed and the pictures of the stars he played with, but left the guitar behind with his Mom. I later put together a book containing his written words and melodies, and, of course, a picture of the guitar he loved so very much on the cover. Not surprisingly, the book sold worldwide, and his music continued to live on. The title was simply The Guitar Man.

Mike 2025                                             

Mr. Bob versus bullies

 Mr. Bob was the store's Santa Claus for 10 years, but after dealing with unruly kids and increasingly impatient parents for several holiday seasons, he decided to quit. He was actually let go. He had grown used to being stuck with candy canes and the occasional wet diaper, but as the years went by, the atmosphere worsened—parents became less polite and focused only on getting their kids to the front of the line before their makeup melted under the bright lights. Many were on their phones while their kid stole candy canes from the helper elves or shoved another kid to the ground, bringing tears that ruined the make-up to other moms' delight. Then there was Roy, the store photographer tasked with the almost-impossible job. Moms and kids in front of a winter wonderland backdrop, literally screaming at the kids to quit messing with their hair and for the love of Saint Nick, leave the makeup alone. Roy always did his best, and after picture after picture, he always found the right one to present to the moms. The one where the kid was looking at the mom who was holding up a new cell phone, if she smiled her best smile for Mr. Roy. It worked every time.

But the straw that broke Bob's back was a kid named Leroy. An over-eater, a bully of all bullies, whose primary purpose in life was to prove to all the kids waiting to see Santa that he was a fake and not so good at being that. Their eyes met as Leroy made it to the front of the line, but not before letting the kids know Santa was a fake. When somebody tried to tell him he was wrong, he would stomp on their foot and steal their candy canes.

Slowly, Leroy sat on Santa's knee with enough force to cause Mr. Bob's excruciating pain. But Leroy wasn't done yet as he bounced up and down on the knee, and it was at that exact moment that Bob did what he had to do and sent Leroy flying off his knee, right into the Christmas tree, which came crashing down on an elf. He wasn't hurt. Shocked parents quickly gathered their screaming kids and left the store. Roy showed Bob the pictures he got, and both agreed his job here was over.

Funny how some things can go from worse to good, and that's what happened. The local newspaper, along with hundreds of online posts, reported that Santa threw a kid into a Christmas tree, with the headline reading, "What Santa does to bullies was the talk of the entire town." For Leroy, well, he moved away somewhere his face wouldn't be noticed, and Bob? Well, he hung up his Santa suit and worked as the Easter Bunny for the next ten years. After all, who doesn't believe in the easter bunny?

Mike 2025                                                   

Santas helpers

 When the store lights were turned off, the only thing left lit was the large Christmas display that captured the attention of children of all ages. The night air was cold. He was glad the Santa suit was warm as he slowly walked down the deserted main street toward his drafty apartment. He had been staying there since Thanksgiving and the first day of Santa's village, where he had worked for quite some time. Up ahead, he saw a young boy, maybe seven or eight, wearing tattered clothes and only very worn shoes. He was staring into a darkened store window, his face pressed to the glass, silently talking to himself as he approached. The boy started to walk away, but seeing Santa in the flesh got his curiosity going, so he stopped and held out his hand to shake.

Pleased to meet you, Santa, but shouldn't you be getting ready for Christmas Eve? Indeed, he replied, but my business here isn't quite done. I couldn't help but wonder what you were looking at through the window. Not many young boys like you look at baby cribs. Oh, well, you see my mom is going to have a baby real soon, and we live in a small room with little space. My baby sister sleeps with Mom, and I sleep on the floor next to them. There's no room for a crib, but if I had one, I'd figure out a way to make it fit in the room with us. I see the old man said that's a noble cause. I've been saving every penny and nickel, but I'm still short, he said, wiping a tear so Santa wouldn't see. I'll tell you what he said. How about you meet me here tomorrow night after I've had a nice chat with the real Santa? But aren't you Santa? He asked, Oh no, I'm just his helper like the other Santas in all the stores around the world. Hurry home, lad, and don't forget tomorrow.

The boy showed up early, giving him time to look in the windows at a beautiful red bicycle with streamers and a bell. It was the nicest bicycle he had ever seen, but he knew something so new and so nice would never be under the Christmas tree. " I had a talk with my boss, well, Santa that is, and he told me he'd do his best to deliver a crib for the baby. But don't be upset if he doesn't come through with it, as most of the presents are spoken for.

The boy hurried home to tell his mom what Santa said, as she looked at her son, who had to grow up way too soon. Don't be upset if he doesn't come through with it, after all, we can put the baby in a dresser drawer where it will be safe and warm right next to us. After all, didn't baby Jesus sleep in a manger? On Christmas Eve, the boy and his small family decorated a tree they had found at a closed tree lot, leaving the worst trees for pickup with the other trash. They cut out paper snowflakes to hang from the tree, and Mom pulled out of a box the three ornaments her mom had given to her a long time ago.

He went to bed that Christmas Eve, hoping and praying Santa had a few things left over, and his little sister would wake to find presents under the tree. Back in his drafty apartment, the old man looked at the new crib, a red bicycle, and something in a small box for Mom. His apartment was a stopping place for hundreds of gifts for the kids living close by. Anything a child could ever hope for was in this apartment that would soon be empty on Christmas. See, he was Santa's helper, after all.

Early Christmas morning, the boy and his sister woke to their mom shouting for them to wake up and see what Santa had brought.  They entered the room, and their mouths dropped open at the sight of the baby crib, a red bicycle, and the most beautiful doll his sister had ever seen. What's in the box he asked his Mom. It's got your name on it the boy said. Oh my, let's see, shall we? She opened the small box and found a key along with a note that read, This is the key to your new apartment. You'll surely enjoy the extra room, and don't worry about the rent, as there isn't any. Every Christmas, Santa picks out the most deserving family and gives them the apartment. This year it's you. Oh, and by the day after Christmas, the elves will clean and paint your new home.

As time passed, the little family did just fine, and the boy never missed a minute telling the story of Santa's helper. Some laughed at his unbelievable tale, while others claimed to have been visited by Santa's helper, bringing joy and happiness to what could have been a very un-merry Christmas. So, for those of us who have always believed in the magic of Christmas, don't be surprised if, on a cold December night, a child's wishes come true.

                                 MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!       

Mike 2025

down hill racer

 He found an old sled he’d made forty years ago, buried under junk. Inspired, he sanded, varnished, and sharpened the blades for speed. Pleased with the work, he went inside, where his wife of fifty years was baking his favorite holiday treats. "What have you been up to?" she asked. "You've been out in that workshop for hours."

"Do you remember the young kid who came every snowfall to shovel the walkway?" she asked, glancing toward the window.

"Yes, how could I forget?" he replied, smiling. "He always liked going to the workshop with you to learn how things were done right. I think you found a buddy."

She nodded, then said, "I heard he got a paper route and can be seen pulling his wagon of news around town. I remember the first time he made it up our road, knocked on our door, and asked if we'd like to subscribe to the paper. His face was beet red, tiny icicles hung from his hat—a young businessman on his way to success."

One December Saturday, with blizzard conditions forecast, they saw him trudging up the road. Blasts of snow must have felt like being sprayed with ice. He threw the paper on their porch. I opened the door and invited him in to warm up. His small body shook, but as he held a mug of hot cocoa, he began warming. He thanked us and said he had to finish his deliveries.

"Before you go, let me show you something in the shop," I said. He opened the door. The first thing the kid saw was an eight-foot red rocket sled. "Wouldn't it be easier and quicker to use the sled with the razor-sharp runners instead of the wheels that slow you down?" the man said. I had already rigged ropes to secure the load, leaving a spot for the kid to sit for the many hills ahead. "Go ahead, give it a try," the man said. The kid smiled, transferred the papers from the wagon to the sled, thanked his friend, and sat down. The man gave him a push. The rocket sled took off, just like its name.

The kid grew up and stopped delivering newspapers, but still showed up wherever a hill could be sledded, rocketing past every sled with laughter and shouts to move aside. Rumor says he married and had four kids, each with their own rocket sled, though none could ever beat their dad down the hills—he stayed a kid at heart, always on a mission.

Mike 2025