When I first moved to Biddeford nearly five months ago, I purchased a basil plant that I have in a pot and harvest leaves regularly from it for cooking. I have wanted to get a plant stand as well but I never seem to find the time, and admittedly, being a bit frugal I didn’t want to spend a lot of money. So, nearly five months after I moved here the plant still stood on the leftover box from the microwave I also purchased at the time, even though I have a daily reminder of how ugly it is when I look at it.
This past Monday morning at about 6:30, as I was doing my daily crunches, I noticed something looked different in that corner of the apartment. In just a few seconds, I realized it was that my beloved microwave box had been replaced by a nice but modest plant stand, and I instantaneously realized that it must have been my cleaning lady that had come on Saturday while I was away. Michelle Welch, thank you for your kind gesture and your Christmas spirit. I look forward to paying it forward.
Hi Santa!
Once upon a time, a wicked many years ago when I was a little boy, I met Santa. My sister Lauren, who was two years younger than me (she would say twenty-two months), and I had each written Santa a letter telling him pretty honestly how we had behaved in the past year. We were good kids, not perfect, but good and thus, concluded and hoped he would agree to bring us a present or two from our list.
It was a snowy evening. My father’s parents were there as they always were during Christmas. We very much enjoyed them. My grandmother was incredibly full of life and so much fun. She was 100-percent southern Italian, from Sicily. She would always bring us gifts, pinch our cheeks gently, kiss us all over our faces and laugh loudly and clearly with that youthful, powerful voice. It really was wonderful for us.
Lauren and I were so excited about the holiday. The lore in my family was that my grandfather was good friends with Santa and would visit him in the North Pole once in a while when the weather permitted. Grandpa had made a special request to his good friend that he come and visit our home this year on Christmas Eve. There were no guarantees but we were very hopeful.
Our tree was just the right size. The topper for the tree stopped about a half inch below the ceiling. There were hundreds of blinking, colored lights with garland and shiny glass balls in red, green and gold hanging from the branches. Greeting cards, hung from paintings on the wall, and various other decorations filled the living room.
Grandpa said he was going out to the store to buy some cigarettes and would be right back. About 20 minutes later I thought I heard a thump, thump, thump. It must be Santa on the roof with his sleigh and reindeer! Then I heard a knock on the front door! My mother opened it and there he was, Santa in the flesh! He was tall and round and he ho, ho, hoed and yelled Meeerry Christmas! I was beside myself with glee! Lauren was beaming, too. He sat down, put me on his lap and said he knew that I had been a good boy. He then did the same with Lauren and told us he would come back with many presents for us after we went to sleep. But, we must be sleeping or he would not be able to return.
I kissed his cheek and it was hard as ice from being out in the cold night. He asked where his good friend Harry (grandpa) was and we said he had gone to the store. He couldn’t wait and asked us to tell him they would see each other when Harry comes for a visit, and off he went out the door. Moments later I swore I could see his sleigh flying across the sky.
After we had calmed down a bit grandpa walked through the door. We greeted him with excitement yelling how he had just missed Santa and told him what he had said. It was an amazing night that I remember to this day 50 years later. And I doubt I shall ever forget it.
— Bruce M. Hardina is the publisher of the Journal Tribune, a singer-songwriter, a philosopher, a student of life and the human experience, a columnist, an entrepreneur and a family man. To comment on his musings, email bhardina@journaltribune.com or mail a note to Journal Tribune, Attn: Bruce Hardina, 457 Alfred St., Biddeford, ME 04005.
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