A View of the Town, Episode 3: The Christmas Pageant

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine.  Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and The Christmas Pageant of 1928.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by...  "Snow.  White, bright, wet, and slick. It can mount up fast. It melt down slow.  Snow.  It's just water waiting to happen."

And now on with A View of the Town, Episode 3...

Now the folks of Misty Cove take the holidays seriously here.  Starting with Halloween all the ways to New Year's Day.  One celebration after another.  But one of my favorite memories was The Annual Christmas Pageant put on by the school.  And the performance in 1928 proved to be the most memorable.

Mrs. Amy-Jane Hawkins, the local school teacher, who often left town for a month and another teacher had to fill in.  In any other town, this might be grounds for firing, but here, not in a long shot. Amy-Jane always made up for with the best pageants ever.  The first one I ever attended was actually the 11th one produced. The eleventh would be prove to be the most memorable all because of one not-properly-tied rope.

It was held on the Friday evening of the week before Christmas.  Snow had come.  We only had a few inches. Lucky we were that Christmas.  I had been invited, among a few other select, over to Mayor Archie and Caroline Switcher's for dinner before the pageant.  Now the school housed all eight grades.  High schoolers traveled ten miles down to the school in a neighboring town.  So, the cast for 1928 had thirteen young actors and actresses.

The pageant began well -- a jolly chorus of several favorites, then onto a brief recitation of "A Visit from Saint Nick," a few more songs, then onto the finale of the Story of the Christmas.  The scene started out beautifully.  The oldest students, Agnes Williams and Lester Holt, played Joseph and Mary.   The next oldest played the three Wise Men.  The younger ones filled in as farm animals.  And last, the skinny Raymond Victors had the honor of playing the angel of the Lord, mainly because he was the only one who fit into the harness they used to lower him from Heaven.

The stage had been simply set with a make-shift manger, some bales of straw, and a painted cardboard star. Lester came on stage pulling Agnes on Benny, the smallest donkey Mr. Rankins owns on his farm.  All was going well until they reached the center stage.  Now at this time, the narrator had brought us to the Angel of the Lord to come down from Heaven and say unto thee... But what really happened was this.

Poor skinny Lester was all harnessed and ready to be lowered by Franklin Henry, the appointed stage manager.  Old Henry had a good gripe on the rope.  Forgetting about an empty pale, Old Henry kicked the bucket, lost his gripe on the rope, just as Lester stepped off the small platform just above the manager.  In his angel costume, six-foot wing span and all, Lester swung a little and landed on the back of Benny who in turn bucked up his back legs send the make-manager to fly into pieces.

Now Agnes had been holding the baby Jesus, played by Ida Bell's rag doll, but when the manager flew so did the baby Jesus.  Straight up in the air, out over the audience, and right into the fireplace on the outside wall.  Poof!  That poor baby Jesus went up in smoke in front of poor Ida Bell who screamed and passed out at the doll's demise.

Back on stage, costumed animals scrambled in all directions.  Pieces of manager flew in every direction.  Hay bales tumbled, busting apart.  A cloud made up of straw, chaff, and dust erupted like a volcano spreading all over the stage, forming a dense cloud.

Now we as the audience just watched as the from the thick cloud emerged bucking Benny with an angel with spread wings.  Benny leaped off the stage into the middle aisle and ran to the back doors, kicked one open and ran out into the street.  Poor Lester held on for dear life.  Now trailing behind that donkey was the rope still attached to the harness.  And at the end of that rope, also holding tight was Old Henry.  Covered in straw from being drug through it on the stage, Old Henry looked like a Halloween scarecrow being dragged behind.  He was smart enough to let go before that donkey took to the streets.

Some people saw what happened that night was a Christmas miracle,  For you see, Benny ran down Main Street right towards Leroy Snude, who was notorious for being the town drunk, to give it to you bluntly.  However, Leroy had staggered out into the center of Main Street, completely buck naked. Not a great sight since he could have been mistaken for a bear.

Leroy saw Benny racing toward him and when Benny got within a few feet, Lester sat straight up. His angels wings flew out and rustled in the breeze.  He didn't realize that foil-covered cardboard star was stuck to the back of his head.  So just imagine what drunken naked Leroy saw.   A angel, flapping wings, and a shining star behind him.

From that day, Leroy went on to divinity school and came back to take up the Gospel at the town church.  As for the audience, we had the best time even though it wasn't true to the story.  It was still the best Christmas Pageant ever.  The Christmas Pageant of 1928.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about the Witch's Woods and how it came to be known as the scariest place not in town.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by...  "Snow.  White, bright, wet, and slick. It can mount up fast. It melt down slow.  Snow.  Snowmen are waiting to be built."   

The Bearded Men’s Society – Part Two

The Bearded Men’s Society – Part Two

Finally, the silence was broken.

“What would happen if we all resigned?” said the Canadian. “We could do it. I don’t see why we couldn’t.”

“Ach du himmel! Ve could not resign,” said the German. “Ve have very important job. Millions rely on us. Zink about the global markets… Ze economics… Ze broken hearts…”

The other three just stared at the German. He raised his voice: “You must understand. Ze change would destroy ze whole world economy!”

The door flew open and in stepped Bob, the society’s attendant, followed by a sharp bitterly cold wind.

“Blast! Shut the bloody door.” Shouts came from the group. Bob slammed the door behind him.

“Gentlemen, the last two have arrived. They are getting changed in to more comfortable attire and should here shortly.” Bob walked around the room picking up empty bottles and straightening as he went. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”

The Russian perked up. “Dinner! Great! I almost forgot.” The group agreed dinner would be great.

Bob rolled his eyes and said under his breath: “As if any of you had forgotten.” Overloaded with bottles, he managed to open the opposite door and exited.

The men went back to drinking. Just as the warmth returned, the door flew open again letting in the same cold rush of air. Two men walked into the room.

“Blast it again! Shut zat damned door. We’re not Eskimos.”

The Canadian spoke up: “Finally! We’ve been waiting for you.”

The American and Italian had arrived with the latter speaking first: “Ciao, everyone. We have arrived.”

“La-dada. We were done hours ago. What’s your excuse?” The Russian got up and stood in front of the fireplace to warm his hands.

The American rolled his eyes. “We may have small territories to cover, but we have larger populations.”

The men turned to chatter of comparison and who has the most work cut out for them.

Bob entered and announced. “Dinner is served, gentlemen.” With that they all began to stir from their chairs. In the corner, the grandfather clock started to strike six. They all stopped and turned to look at it.

The American spoke: “Gentleman, the hour has arrived. Our job is done. May I propose a toast?” He had poured himself a glass of whiskey. “To another year of delivering presents and a job well done. I wish us in the Bearded Men’s Society another Merry Christmas. Until next year!”

The Bearded Men’s Society – Part One

Guess where I got the inspiration to write this one...  It's a two part story.


The Bearded Men’s Society – Part One

Four men sat around the large round table, all in their stocking feet with shirts untucked and looking very relaxed. Each drank their choice of liqueurs. They came from different countries. Their individual characteristics could been seen in their mannerism. Yet, they had one thing in common – beards. Each had a beard and each were different -- long, short, full, stubble.

“Ahhhhh… dis vodka really hits de spot,” said the Russian who had the longest beard in the group. His accent resounded from the bottom of his pot belly which hung over his belt with a plain square buckle.

“And I just can’t get enough of this wine,” raved the one with the British accent as he poured more from the bottle. “You know… these nights are getting longer. It’s so bloody difficult to satisfy everyone these days.”

The Canadian stroked his short white beard adding: “I know. I am so tired I just want to go somewhere warm and lie on a beach. You know it’s always winter in the Upper Yukon. And I am so tired of this damned beard... and the cold… and the snow!” He tugged on the end of his whiskers making a face of pain.

The last one just sat there looking at the other three. He lifted a medium-sized beer stein to his lips. After a long swig of beer, he banged the stein back down on the table. In his German accent, he spoke: “Zere is no satisfaction anymore. In fact, zat eez it… more… more… more. Especially those swinehunde in America… Zey just get so greedy.”

“Do dey have any idea of the vork we do?” said the Russian in a demanding voice. “Ve vork all year and vhat spasiba do ve get?”

The Brit added: “Perhaps if the buggers knew there were seven of us that actually do the work!"

Before taking another big swig from his stein, the German said: “Speaking of seven, vere eez zat Italian and zat American?”

“Probably finishing up their rounds,” said the Canadian. “The American has the largest population. And of course, Mario’s taking care of everyone not assigned to a region.”

“Thank god there isn’t a chap for China!" said the Brit. Could you imagine what that would be like? I would be afraid one of us would be reassigned to that area."

“Or even wurse… have it added to our own!” said the German.

“Yeah, not everyone needs us,” added the Canadian. “Some large areas of the world don’t need us. And I just have to say thank you god!”

The room fell quiet of conversation as they relaxed and drank. Now only the sound in the room was the crackling logs burning bright in the fireplace.