My mother never told me much about her childhood. But there was one story she told me over and over again. It was the Christmas she got a little pocketbook with give nickels inside. I thought about that story in 1989 when my father was ‘courting’ a woman who had been an old family friend. I took the liberty of weaving the elements of my mother’s true Christmas memory with what was going in my father’s life. Here’s the story.
FIVE SHINY NICKELS
1989
Although Bill Keane enjoyed some of the perks of retirement, he had taken about as many strolls around the old neighborhood as humanly possible. With the weather beginning to turn bitter cold, Bill was faced with the prospects of fewer walks and more pacing around his small apartment.
Such a sense of confinement was a depressing enough thought for Bill under ordinary circumstances, but considering it was nearing Christmas, the pangs of loneliness took their toll on Bill’s spirit.
Never known for his poker face, Bill’s cronies at the Senior Center could read Bill’s face like a well-read book.
“It must almost e Christmas,” Charlie said between poker hands. “Bill is sporting his Basset Hound face and holding the queen of spades.
Bill looked down at the queen of spades in his hand and said, “I’m not holding the queen of spades…and don’t start thinking I’m in a funk, because I’m not.”
“You might be able to fool yourself,” Sam said. “But you can’t fool your old friends.”
“Friends?” Bill bellowed. “If you were my friends you’d let me shoot the moon just once in a blue moon!?
“Listen, Bill,” Big Al said softly, “if you want stupid friends, I’m sure you could find them somewhere in the center, but if you want smart friends …and smart friends don’t just let someone shoot the moon…you’ll just play the cards you were dealt and be thankful we’re not enablers.”
“You have no idea what an enabler is,” Bill fired back, “you’re just trying to impress us with a word you picked up playing Scrabble with the woman from senior services. My problem isn’t about cards. It’s…it’s…”
Bill couldn’t get the words out, so Charlie helped him. “It’s just that you’re missing Carol, right?”
Bill nodded.
“Well, you’ve got to get your mind on something else.”
“I think what you should do is get a part-time job,” Sam suggested.
“Bill looked over at Sam with a puzzled expression on his face. “Who’d ever hire an old geezer like me?”
“They’re looking for a Santa Claus at the Macy’s in the mall,” Al said.
“You’d make a great Santa!” Charlie added.
“I’ll think about it,” Bill said trying to end the conversation.
“If you think about it too long, Christmas will be here and gone…and you’ll still be in a funk holding the queen of spades,” Sam chimed.
When Bill passed May’s on his way home from the Center he got to thinking how much fun he used to have playing Santa every year at the railroad’s annual Christmas party. Of course he didn’t have the girth in the earlier years, but carol took care of that by adding the padding necessary to have him as roly-poly as ever.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Bill pulled into the Mall parking lot and made his way to the employment office at Macy’s. In short order, Bill was hired and asked to report to work the following day.
At the end of his first day as Santa, Bill felt there was something wrong. Not with him, but with the kids who had lined up to see him. They were all good kids from good families. They were polite and well-behaved, but none of them had a poker face. Or at least none of them could hide their real feelings. They were basically empty. They had no needs. They had no wants despite the fact that they rattled off a list of the most popular toys of the day.
What Bill had thought was going to be a pleasure diversion had all the earmarks of a prison sentence. He didn’t believe he had it in him to spread Christmas joy. He even thought about turning in his red Santa suit. But before he took that step, a silver-haired woman approached him.
“Hi, Santa,” she said with a sparkle in her voice.
“I’m sorry, but Santa’s finished for the day. He’s got to bed-down his reindeer.
“Santa, I’m a little bit too old to be sitting in Santa’s lap. I just came by to introduce myself and tell you that starting tomorrow I’ll be your Mrs. Claus. Well, actually, I’ll be the one snapping pictures of the little darlings who come to see you.”
Bill didn’t have the heart to say he was thinking of quitting.
“My name is Lucille Garrity, but my friends call me Ceil.”
“And I’m Bill Keane. My friends call me Bill.”
Ceil gave a small chuckle. And as she continued to talk, there was something in her voice that reminded him of his Carol. There was her smile, too. Her voice and smile were enough to convince Bill not to turn in his suit.
“See you in the morning, Santa,” Ceil said.
“Get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”
With Ceil’s voice ringing in his ear, Bill fell asleep thinking about one of Carol’s favorite Christmases.
Carol, orphaned at a young age, was raised by her aunt and uncle. They were good people but they barely had enough money to support the six children they had, let alone another one. Meals were always meager and clothing usually hand-me-downs. And of course there was little chance of having gifts at Christmas, but the lack of money never stopped Carol from dreaming about a wonderful Christmas.
One particular Christmas Eve Carol went to bed with visions of sugar plums and all that, only to wake to a chilly house with a particularly sad tree in the parlor.
Carol’s aunt handed her a small gift wrapped in newspaper. Carol didn’t care that the paper wasn’t colorful or that it lacked a bow, it was a gift that turned out to be a small cloth purse.
Even though carol knew it was one of her aunt’s old purses, she was still happy and hopeful. Hoping that there might be something in the purse. And to her surprise there was. Inside the purse were five shiny nickels.
From her shouts of glee you would have thought she had inherited Rockefeller’s millions. In truth, those five shiny nickels amounted to more money than Carol had ever had at one time.
Carol carried the purse to church. As her thoughts turned to the wonderful things she was going to buy with her five shiny nickels, the glimmer of the votive candles caught her eye. She had always wanted to light a candle for her late mother and father but had never had the money to do it.
But now she did. So before Mass began, Carol went over and lit one candle for her mother and another for her father. She proudly reached into her purse and took out two of her shiny nickels and deposited them in the candle box.
When the collection basket was passed around, Carol remembered how good the church had been to her when her mother died, so she took a third shiny nickel out of her purse and dropped it in the basket.
On her way out of church Carol saw the poor box hanging on the door. And although she was as poor as anyone in the parish, Carol’s parents had raised her to be generous, even if it meant making a sacrifice.
Although she was down to her last two shiny nickels, Carol deposited one of them in the poor box.
With only one shiny nickel left in her purse, Carol’s dream of a shopping spree was ebbing. A nickel though, back in 1924, still had amazing buying power. One nickel was enough to buy some gum drops, sour balls and a peppermint stick. Carol relished the idea of a belly ache from eating too much candy.
That’s what she was thinking when she went to pay a Christmas visit to her best girl friend. It’s the same thought that quickly disappeared when she saw that not only did her girlfriend’s family have no gifts, they had no tree and no fire in the fire place.
“Merry Christmas,” Carol said as she handed her friend the little cloth purse she held in her tiny hands. “Santa left this at our house and he asked me to come over and give it to you.”
Carol’s friend’s face lit up the whole room with a glow that was brighter than the sun. Never before had Carol’s friend ever been given a gift.
Whenever Carol told people about that long-ago Christmas, she used to say she could have used those five shiny nickels on herself, but if she had, she would have been left with nothing. But because she had done something extra special with each of the nickels she had five memories that lasted her a lifetime.
Remembering that story only reminded Bill how much he missed Carol. It also made him remember why he had loved her so much.
Ceil wasn’t Carol, but she did have some similar qualities. Her smile, her laugh and the way she responded to the children who came to see Santa.
Bill and Ceil quickly became friends playing Santa and Mrs. Claus. They took their breaks together, ate lunch with each other in the lunchroom, and at the end of the day, Bill walked Ceil to her car.
Bill woke up each morning with a purpose. He not only had someplace to go, he had someone to see. One afternoon Charlie stopped by to see Santa. He was amazed at the transformation. Bill had gone from old coot to jolly old St. Nicholas. One look over at Santa’s helper and Charlie had it all figured it out.
“If I didn’t know better Bill Keane,” Charlie said, “I’d say you were smitten. It’s written all over your poker face.”
Bill didn’t deny it because he was smitten. He also knew that come Christmas Eve, after he turned in his Santa suit, he’d stop having a purpose. His days would once again become humdrum.
Bill knew that everything didn’t have to end. He might no longer be Santa, but it didn’t have to mean his friendship with Ceil would also come to an end. But to ask Ceil “out on a date” was something he wasn’t yet ready for. Or at least he thought that way until his cut-throat friends at the Center encouraged him to ask Ceil to be his guest at the Center’s Christmas party.
“You’ve had so much practice,” Charlie said, “that I think the two of you would make the perfect Mr. and Mrs. Claus.”
Bill got to thinking. If he and Ceil were to be the Clauses at the party they really wouldn’t be going on a date. They’d be working.
Bill might have been thinking they were working, but is face had ‘date’ written all over it. From the minute he picked Ceil up at her place until the time they were sitting along by the fireplace.
“I know we never talked about exchanging gifts,” Bill said as he handed Ceil a small package, “but I wanted to give you a little something.”
Carol opened the gift to reveal a small cloth purse. Inside were five shiny nickels.
Ceil’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “You can’t imagine what memories this purse brings back. My saddest Christmas ever was turned joyous when my best girl friend came over and gave me a purse with a nickel in it.”
It took a bit of unraveling, but Bill eventually learned that Ceil was Carol’s best friend. They lost track of one another when Ceil and her family moved away when the girls were still young.
The magic of those five shiny nickels had come full circle.
NOTE: At 78, my father did remarry the “Ceil” in his life. He and Felicia were married for close to ten years before my father died.
Read Full Post »