Three Tinkles and a Clangor

Hark! Is it Sleigh Bells or is it the Change in Your Life the Jingling Bells that you hear are signaling?

If a Boxer hears bells when there are none, he is punchy and finished in the Ring. If you hear bells at this time of year, it is romantic and is the signal to finish up your shopping because you are starting to get punchy too. Either way, a change is taking place. The end of the year festivals are happening as, Christmas, Chanukah, Ramadam, and celebrations of many other religions, roll around and great changes take place as we pass through the shortest day of the year. We have great primeval visions of the return of the Sun and a new crop year. We RING out the old and RING in the New. In China and Japan we bury the past and pay off all debts. Everyone promises to try to change for the better in the future.

Bells are rung out for joy, or toll for sadness. They tell of the passing of time on ships, celebrate weddings and call students to class. When you hear bells, CHANGE is about to take place. Christmas combined with the coming of the New Year is the time of bells that signal changes of great significance, some so subtle that you'll not remember them until you have become a grand parent, but they will bring you joy when you hear the tiny tinkle, the 'ding', or the loud reverberating 'clang.'

Here are three tinkles and one clangor that echo in my memories around this time a year.

1. A young six-year-old lad had, for his first time, saved up his pennies and nickels to buy his very own presents for Christmas. Off the father and eight year old brother went with him to the 'FIVE AND DIME' store so that all the Christmas presents could be bought in one manly swoop. Upon arrival, the younger lad demanded his personal freedom to buy what he wanted without interference or oversight from any other family member. The three went their separate ways and met at the exit after completing their buying. No one could get even a tiny hint of what the six-year-old had bought. On Christmas morning, gifts were exchanged, the small secretly wrapped gift from the six-year-old for his mother was the center of attention and when it was opened; it was a spool of white thread. During the summer the lad saw his mother sewing and heard her say to herself. 'Darn I wish I had a spool of white thread.' His hard earned pennies and nickels had fulfilled her very wish. That special spool of white thread was still in his mothers sewing box 30 some odd years later when she passed on. She always had a soft smile on her face whenever she opened the magic basket full of odd buttons, spools of many colored threads, pins and needles and one new spool of white thread. This personal earning of moneys and purchasing of presents is a time of great change. You have not discarded or lost your belief in Santa Clause, but have,through some magic transformation, become Santa Clause.

2. Early one Christmas morning, a middle-aged, uniformed police officer pulled up in front of the Vancouver Harbor Light Salvation Army Mission (Skid Row). He opened the trunk of his private car and was removing a large lot of good quality, warm, used clothing. A drunk came shambling by, dirty, unshaven and dressed in a grubby, worn out gabardine raincoat. When the drunk was close enough to recognize the presence of a policeman, his face hardened with fear and he pressed against the wall and tried to slink by the Constable. The Constable turned towards the hostel door and, spotting the drunk, called him over and gave him a high quality raincoat with a zip in wool lining. The drunk grabbed it and, without a thank you or even a smile, stumbled on down the street looking for someone with a bottle. Our officer took two large armfuls of heavy jackets and coats into the hostel. He knew that if he made a mistake some night in this area that same drunk would help others kick him to death in some dark alley. It may be that the drunk no longer believes in anything, but that POLICE OFFICER WHO KNOWS HOW HORRIBLE LIFE IS ON SKID ROW was transformed into Santa Clause and still believes in some sort of Christmas, even for a human wreck like the drunk.

3. A Canadian family was traveling on military leave in Europe. The Autobahn was dangerous and visibility was next to zero. On the night before Christmas, rather then fight onto the Brenner Pass and into Italy, they decided to stop at an American forces PX hotel in Nuremberg. As soon as they had checked in and gone to their room, they all just wanted a hot bath and to crash in bed. The eight and nine year old boys were in the bath when phone rang. It was the front desk. "Sgt. Smith, how old are your boys?" queried the Desk Clerk. Once she had written their names and ages down, she said "Santa will be in the main lobby at 10 A.M. tomorrow morning with a present for each of your boys." Sgt. Smith was taken aback and explained "they were heading out at 7 AM, but thank you for the consideration and kindness." The boys were out of the tub and into their PJs when the phone rang again. The Main desk asked that the boys be brought down to the Top Hat Bar because Santa had come early for them. One does not turn down two summonses from Santa Clause, so they got dressed and off the family went. Downstairs, the Hotel Manager, one Mr. (Lt.) Adams, USArmy, met them. This gentleman happened to be a Red Headed Black man. The Top Hat Bar was opened and waiters brought cakes, cookies, ice cream etc., all appearing like magic. Christmas Carols played as background and a Red Headed Black man was transformed into Santa Clause before their very eyes. He took the boys to a Christmas tree and sure enough Santa had left a present with their name on it for each of them. This great kindness is a memorable experience. To this day that family say to each other "What is Mr. Adams bringing you for Christmas?" Sitting on their tree is a small black Santa Clause to remind them of a kindness in Nuremberg Germany, the toy capital of the world, on the night before a very special Christmas 38 years ago.

4. One of the most macabre visits I know of by Santa Clause, took place in Spain and France. Again, a Canadian family on duty with NATO in Germany decided to spend a camping Christmas holiday in Spain. The widowed Mother in law in Canada wanted to join them, so over she flew. The car was loaded with tents, coolers etc., three teen age kids, and all the other gear one needs to be relatively comfortable for two weeks in the hot Spanish sun. The drive down through the Rhone River valley and over into Spain was delightful, with singsongs and car games that Grandma led them in. A liberal amount of, almost free, raw, Red wine helped the miles flow by until they reached the little port city of Tarragona Spain. A tenting spot was organized and HOLIDAY TIME commenced in earnest. After about four days and nights of holidaying, raw red wine, and hot sun, the family woke in the morning ready for their usual pre breakfast swim, but Grandma did not! Dead as a clam in her RED PJs was she! Herbie, the soldier was not a particularly bright spark, but had heard all the horror stories of the Garde` Civil (Spain's Very Tough Police Force) and the Spanish Inquisition. He came up with the following unique and very remarkable escape plot.

The family had breakfast and then quietly packed up their gear and loaded the car, leaving room for the tent in the trunk. They dropped the tent poles and quickly rolled the canvas up with Grandma in it and jammed the lot in the trunk. They stuck off for their Canadian NATO Base back in Germany. Up the Costa Brava they motored with Gram bouncing along in the trunk. At the Spanish - French border they were, fortunately, only asked to show their Passports.

Transporting a cadaver across International Borders can have very serious consequences, of that you can be sure! Into France they go, every one in the family elated that they are over the first major hurdle. Nothing would do but to have a big lunch with a couple of liters of wine to celebrate their Granny's personal defeat of the Spanish Armada. Up the Rhone valley they go, but the wine has caused Herbie some after thoughts, "What if I'm stopped by the Gendarme for drinking and they snoop in the trunk?" Devil's Island is now haunting his thoughts. About five P.M., Herbie is suffering a hideous hang over and no one else can drive. They pull into a small town and know they cannot use the tent, so a hotel is a must. Parking their car in the street they engage a pair of rooms. In the morning, the Petite Dejeuner being over, they pay their bill and go out to their car. Gone! During the night some local saw a car loaded with "lots of good Canadian stuff " and scooped it. The hotel management phones the police and down comes none other than the local "Inspector Clouseau", who issues an all points bulletin on the radio. Within two hours the stolen vehicle is found abandoned just off the main road, in a wooded spot out side of town. Herbie is arrested by the police and piled into the Citroen police car and taken to the scene to identify his car. On arrival Herbie, who is completely baffled by his arrest and these other high-speed events gets excited and says yes, yes that is my car. Inspector Clouseau takes Herbie around the back where the trunk was sprung up and the tent pulled out by the thieves who then had rolled our dead white haired Granny in red PJs out on to the green grass, face down. Pointing at this apparition Inspector Clouseau demands of Herbie "and so who is that, Mon Amie, Papa Noel?"

Eventually the Canadian Military police came to Herbie's rescued and sorted this mess out with out Herbie going to Devil's Island. To this day, in that little French town the story pops up about this time of year in the Bistros of how Father Noel was found dead on Christmas morning, killed by a Canadian just outside their town. There is no end of speculation on what the real thieves did or said when they unrolled a dead white haired human in red PJs on Christmas Eve. Granny's corpse must have flopped on to the green grass; her red PJs illuminated by a full moon must have made a very remarkable sight indeed. Since nothing else was stolen, Inspector Clouseau suspects the thieves must have departed in great haste.

PS Granny came home and is buried in a little town on the Quebec/Ontario border. I bet that old gal has got a smile a mile wide, remembering the time she was transformed in to the Pink Panther by Inspector Clouseau and they returned Herbie's car as her last and most memorable Christmas present.

When you hear a Bell RING - (not Toll)

Ask not for whom the bell rings Granny

It rings with Christmas happiness for thee.



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