[stylist] Christmas exercise

Tue Dec 20 15:03:01 UTC 2011

Donna

Two things: First, I remember reading this a few years back. I enjoyed the
tale then and did again now. Thanks for pulling it out of storage. 

Second: Chris had a good suggestion or too, I'd think about them

Have a blessed holiday!
.

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Donna Hill
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 6:15 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] Christmas exercise

Hi Friends,

I dug this piece out of my old files. It's an experiment done in the first
person -- everything in the first person is a bit of an experiment for me,
as I'm much more comfortable with third person even when writing about
myself. An older woman is telling the reader a story while taking care of
her granddaughter , as though you were sitting in the room with her. Anyway,
I thought I'd share. I've copied it below and attached it.

Donna

The Christmas Bazaar

I saw Diane this morning -- Snyder, I think her name is now.  She asked me
to have coffee with her at Molly's.  It still bothers her, even after all
these years.  Of course I've never told her that I saw the whole thing; she
feels bad enough as it is.

No, sweetie, stay away from Grandma's china.

Where was I?  Yes, well it happened years ago, when I was the director of
the interfaith ministries and thrift shop.  It was a good job -- not much
money but lots of nice people, and Jim's practice was thriving, so it's not
like I really had to work.  

Anyway, every December, we would have our Christmas Bazaar for families in
need.  People donated toys, mostly store-bought, but we received some
hand-made things too.  The Tyler's gave us adorable doll cradles - he made
them in his shop and then she'd paint them. I had another lady who made rag
dolls with beautiful peasant dresses.  One old guy - I can't believe I don't
remember his name!  But, he made wagons and other toys, yoyos and puzzles,
that sort of thing. 

And of course, we had Susan.  She liked to knit and she brought in beautiful
afghans all year round - lap warmers, she called them - for our ladies in
assisted care.  

To tell you the truth, I was a bit skeptical when I first took over.  I
didn't know that she had been doing it for years.  I was confused about what
to do with them.  What price could I put on them that wouldn't be an insult
to her or too high for our patrons!

So, I mentioned something to Susan and she set me straight, said they were
to be given away, either to old people or new mothers.  She told me that
would be worth more than any money we could get, and she was right.

The first one that fall -- I'll never forget it -- it was pale blue and so
soft!  There was a ruffle on top, and the sides and bottom were scalloped.
It looked like a picture frame, borders of different patterns one inside the
next with a leafy vine in the middle.  

I went along with Joan - she had the elder ministry in those days -- to
Jenny's place.  She really makes it nice for them, so homey, you know?  I
remember that day; she had Indian corn on the mantle.Isn't it strange how
some things stick with you?

My goodness, was I nervous going there the first time!  But, I suppose we're
all a bit uncomfortable with that sort of thing, seeing how frail they are
and the oxygen tubes and such.  I shouldn't talk; I'll be there soon enough
myself.

Sweetie, hold still.you're going to trip over your laces!  Someday, you'll
be able to do this all by yourself.There you go.

She's such a blessing!  Anyway, the lap warmer.   I didn't know who to give
it to.  I looked around for quite a while.  There was this one little old
lady in a rocking chair by the fireplace; she didn't have anyone, and she
was so sweet.  Still had a twinkle in her eye, you know?  She was thrilled
to have something hand-made, said that shade of blue was her favorite color.
I felt great about it!  I still can't help smiling to myself whenever I
think of it.

That Christmas Susan made the cutest little pillow and afghan sets for dolls
and brought them in for the bazaar.  The pillows had a multi-colored design
on the front.  I don't know a thing about knitting myself, but they were
like miniature decorator pillows, fringed and -- I can still remember
touching them -- the backs felt like wide wale corduroy.  

Diane was one of the young mothers that year.  She had it rough; the father
of those children never lifted a finger to help.  Anyway, she came in and
picked out some things for the kids.  I had seen her before. She had been in
a few times with the little girl while the other two were in school.  I
always tried to talk to the customers.remember their names.make them feel
like there was some connection.  Anyhow, I noticed Diane looking at the sets
and went over to talk to her a bit.  She seemed so down, wouldn't even look
at me.  She rummaged through them for quite a while and then asked if she
could take a lilac one.  She said the little girl was crazy about anything
purple. Naturally, I told her she could.that's what they were there for.
She actually smiled at me.  It's the little things like that, that make you
think you're really helping.

I didn't think anymore of it.  Then, one evening - it was just after
Christmas -- I stopped at the market after work for a few things.

I saw Diane up ahead. She looked exhausted. I don't think she noticed me.
The older two were fussing with each other and the little girl was prancing
around.  She was such a beautiful child!  About three years old at the time,
I'd imagine.  I could see her looking across the store.you know how they do
at that age with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open?  I heard
Diane tell her to go pet the puppy.  When I looked up, I saw them standing
by the shopping cart.  I guess she was waiting for her husband to get
something down the aisle.  Her guide dog was just standing there as proud as
you please.  Oh, he was a beauty, shiny black coat and huge brown eyes!

I guess Diane didn't know that you're not supposed to pet them.  I started
toward them, but I was too far away to say anything. It all happened so
fast.

So, the little girl went running over to them as happy as all get out.  I
guess she had heard Diane and then the little one running toward them,
because she bent down and touched  her dog's head and said something like,
"No, no, sweetie, this is a working dog, we don't pet dogs when they're
working."

The child was disappointed, of course and ran back to her mother.  Diane was
just about there anyway, and I guess she had heard her coming because she
turned right to her and explained it to her, about how you can't pet them
when the harness is on and to teach her children to always ask.  

She wasn't unkind about it, I didn't think, but Diane . Well, I can't repeat
it all, but she went away grumbling, "What?  You can't even pet the bleeping
dog?  Who the bleep does she think she is anyway?"

I couldn't believe my ears!  I didn't want her to see me, to know that I'd
heard her, so I ducked down an aisle.  It bothered me, you know?  I didn't
know how to deal with it.  I thought I should say something.  I mean, I
wanted to slap her mouth for one thing, and what kind of attitude is that
anyway?  We're all human, aren't we?

I said to myself, "Just let it go, it's none of your business."  When I got
up front with my cart though, there she was, Diane, I mean.  It was pretty
crowded and we were in different lines but next to each other.

She said hello, and we chatted about the holidays.  She thanked me for the
bazaar and went on about the kids all liking their presents.  The little one
was skipping up and down the aisle.  She said she particularly liked the
doll pillow and blanket, couldn't be separated from them.

So I say, "I'll have to tell Susan - she'll be tickled."  Then, I mentioned
that I had just seen her earlier.

I should have stopped right there, but for some reason I looked around just
then, and there they were, headed out - her husband pushing the cart and
Susan and the dog following.

"There she is," I said - it just came out so naturally, "Just going out the
door with the black guide dog."

Well, Diane lost all of her color.  I still couldn't stop myself, but I
thought she should know, and I think it was as tactful as it could have
been.  I said, "I want to pet him so badly, but you aren't supposed to, not
when they're wearing that harness."

Diane has never mentioned it specifically, but she says things, especially
since her sister lost her sight.  They say it's genetic, but no one in there
family ever . Well, I guess you never know.

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