December 29, 2009

Now: While driving around the Ozarks on my travels I have seen several Christmas trees decorated by "Guerrilla Santa's". These are the trees you see on the side of a highway or a busy intersection that have been adopted by some unseen soul or souls. I like to think of them as "Guerrilla Santa's" because no one sees these individuals who are so overflowing with Christmas spirit they must decorate more than just their own home. While it seems no one sees who does these drive by decoratings, someone must because frequently these trees or bushes are in busy locales. There is a small bush at the corner of Kansas Expressway and Republic Road in Springfield that is actually growing out of a crack in the asphalt in the center of the intersection. This tiny tree was decorated over a period of days with new bulbs and ribbons appearing each day. Soon the poor thing was so over laden with decorations it could hardly stand up under the weight.


Some trees on the highways have been decorated very beautifully and are quite large. I saw one such tree that was growing precariously near the edge of a bluff loaded with tinsle, bulbs and stars. I wondered in amazement how it was accomplished. It seemed it would require a bucket truck to reach it safely but I find that highly unlikely. Was it done at night by a "Guerrilla Santa", replete with camo paint on his face to avoid detection?


I also wonder how long it will be before some misdirected "Scrooge" will file a lawsuit against the state because they are "offended" by the display that is on public property and require the state to move officers from the Missouri State Drug Task Force during the month of December. For the month of December they would become the Missouri State Christmas Task Force responsible for staking out potential trees to catch these "Guerrilla Santa's" in the act of their drive by decorating. That intrigues me. Perhaps I shall stake out a tree for myself and stock up on some face paint in preparation for next Christmas!





Then: The winter after we moved to the Hunky Place we had our first snowstorm in the country. As I recall, it was a beautiful deep snow with large flakes. The kind you can stand in and actually hear the flakes as they land. It was evening time and Dad was in the barn milking the cows. Mother and I were in the house where it was warm and dry. I don't remember what it was now but I asked to do something and my Mother, from the next room, said "no". I, being a young cocky lad of six, retorted something along the line of "Someday I won't live here anymore and you will be sorry!" While I don't remember my exact words I do remember the feeling of dread that swept over my body from my towhead to my toes as I realized I had really stuck my foot in it this time. Mother promptly went to my room and packed my little brown cardboard suitcase with my PJ's and underware, clean shirt, toothbrush, ect. She proceeded to bundle me up in my snow boots and coat and hat and opened the kitchen door. She said "I will miss you son." and pushed me outside and closed the door. Panic struck! "What have I done?" I wondered?

I looked at the barn and realized I was saved. Dad can't know what happened. I will go to the barn and he will make her take me back. I headed to the barn and immediately ratted Mother out to him. Dad looked at me and said "Son, if Mother kicked you out she must have had a good reason. Sorry boy. Start hiking!" He pushed me out the door. I began walking to the road in snow up to my thighs. Of course, at the age of six, that would be only about 12 inches deep but at the same time, at the age of six, that is a LOT of snow! I trudged slowly toward the road and kept looking back. I could see by the light of the single bare bulb on the pole outside the barn, Dad in the barn door and Mother in the kitchen door - both warm and dry and watching my every step. It seemed like I walked a mile before, finally, Mother called me back. Just for the record, that was the one and only time I tried to run away!