As my Christmas present to myself, I'm going to skip blogging today and finish a script that's been sitting on this computer half-finished while I went to Christmas parties and discussed with people whether "Baby, It's Cold Outside" is a song about date rape. Also, we talked a lot about how Donald Trump has won The War Against Christmas, proving he's the guy to lead us in all wars that exist only in the imagination. That's so comforting.
You might remember how last year on 12/26/16, I described how I spent the evening before…
Last night around 7 PM, I found myself in a restaurant ordering a "to go" order to take to a sick friend. The restaurant was packed and if I'd asked for a table, I might be getting seated right about now. It was so crowded in there that when the hostess said my order would take at least 30 minutes, I told her I'd be back in twenty and was going for a walk.
This was not in the nicest part of town but I felt safe. There were people on the street who looked like they'd be a lot easier and more lucrative to mug than me. One of them approached me and asked if I could spare a buck or two for food. As I fished around in my pocket for some cash, the gentleman said "I hope next year is better," which of course everyone hopes. I said, "It can't help but be," which of course is not true but you say it anyway. I was just handing the guy a few singles when suddenly, one firework exploded in the sky.
Only one. You've all seen those big displays where they fire off dozens and dozens, one right after another, the pace quickening until at last they start overlapping. Well, from some location a mile or so away, someone set off just one of those, followed by no others.
We waited about a minute to see if more would follow and when none did, I said to him, "Guess we'll have to settle for that." He said, "Don't worry. There'll be more fireworks in 2017." I said something about how we could count on that, one way or the other and —
I was interrupted in mid-post so I never finished that story. The "sick friend," of course, was my beloved Carolyn who was in that Assisted Living facility, experiencing what I knew and she sort-of knew would be her last Christmas. They served a nice dinner spread in that place that evening but it did not correspond with what she thought she should be eating. With the aid of Yelp!, I located a Thai restaurant in a crummy part of Hollywood and went over to get her some chow.
As I wrote last year, the place was mobbed and though they told me the order would take 30 minutes to prepare, it was more like 50. As we pick up our story, I'm waiting outside, about to hand some cash to a homeless guy when we see one (and only one) big, glorious, full-color firework explosion in the sky a mile or three from us. We waited and waited for more but there was only the one.
The man and I exchanged pleasantries…and it was pleasant. He told me nothing about how he'd wound up there but he definitely seemed to need the money I was giving him and he was not of bad spirit. He didn't say this but the thought struck me that he was probably satisfied with the one burst of fireworks — maybe I should say firework (single) — because when you're that bad off, one firework is still better than none.
As I gave the fellow all the small bills I had on me, I was aware there were others around who could surely have used some dollars, especially that evening. I wondered if they would then hit me up and I'd have to tell them I was tapped-out…but no. They all seemed to respect the concept that that one of them was getting all the spare cash I could spare and that, well, maybe it would be their turn if/when someone else came by.
The guy thanked me, then went into the Thai restaurant to get something to eat. Ten minutes later, he came out with his "to go" order and I had to wait another half-hour or so for mine. That might not seem fair but I think he just got Pad Thai, whereas Carolyn wanted something more complicated. Soon, it was ready and on my way back to the Assisted Living facility with it, I drove through a Tommy's and got a burger and fries so Carolyn and I could eat together. My food allergies make Thai food way too dangerous for me.
Food service at the Assisted Living Home was over so I got Carolyn into a wheelchair and rolled her down to the little dining room there, which we had all to ourselves…at first. A few other patients soon straggled in, just to be with someone. And the someone they wanted to be with was the same someone I wanted to be with: Carolyn, who even in a place like that and with her health failing, still had most of the same sense of inner joy she'd always had.
A few months later, it would not be so warm and reassuring to be with her. It would just be sad. But that night — the evening of Christmas Day, 2016 — she still had that wonderful, wonderful smile and I miss it. It was like a single explosion of fireworks against the night sky.
Here's our favorite Christmas video on this site. I'll see you all back here tomorrow…