A Christmas Thought (short story)
by
rgpage

This time of the year,  when once giving from the heart has since melted like the snow in Spring to the meaningless demand for expensive toys and gadgets;  and Santa has waned to no more than the all-giving sugar daddy to each and every child,  and a tireless crutch to the mindless parent during the year; “Santa’s watching so you’d better be good.”

And alas,  there I stood in this huge department store amid a vast forest of toys, colors, and noises, fallen prey to this modern day hypocrisy known as Christmas.  Being of a lower middle economical standard,  and having with such stealth blindness juggled expenses and bills to afford myself the opportunity to plunge even deeper into dept.  I pondered these playful wonders of modern day technology.  All about countless numbers of people were doing as I in efforts to reward their children for their year of good service.

This was when I saw her. As fast as this seasonal frenzy had overtaken me just days earlier,  it vanished for a time as I watched her. It must have been that she seemed so out of place in this hurry-scurry festive scene of Christmas shopping that she caught my eye.  She was very old and her tattered,  worn out clothing all too obviously reflected the fact that she couldn’t afford much.  While others struggled about her almost comically laden with brightly colored  packages, this old woman had nothing more than an old purse dangling from her arm.  Slowly she moved, seemingly pained with the infirmities which accompany old age.  She appeared overweight for her stature which I’m sure added to her discomfort.  When she stopped in front of the doll section  her old, pudgy face glowed with joy.  Undoubtedly a doll for a little granddaughter,  I was  sure no more as she couldn’t possibly afford more.  I watched as she studied each doll
and its price tag,  going from one to the next.  Finally she stopped to give particular attention to one little doll adorned with colorful ribbons and big bright blue eyes.  Then putting the doll back,  she opened her purse and I watched as she counted the small amount of money that she had.  

By this time I had become so unexplainably absorbed with watching the old woman,  who with a smile closed her purse, retrieved the doll and walked slowly and painfully to the checkout counter to wait in line.  Around her the noise of parents and children alike waiting their turn to check out didn’t seem to bother her as she patiently waited, holding the precious little doll for an equally precious granddaughter.  Finally when her turn came, an all to cruel yet human trait appeared in not only the people waiting behind her but the checkout clerk as well. Their impatience to maintain a steady flow of human traffic through the turnstiles came to the forefront almost obliterating this seasonal spirit.  This didn’t seem to deter the old woman from slowly and surely counting out the correct change,  leaving her very little to return to her purse.

With this done and the doll tucked away in a shopping sack,  she proceeded through the large glass doors and out into the cold December night.  A passing thought, “one special gift for one special person,” went through my mind as I continued my own, now more selective tour of annual duty.  Looking over my shoulder for one last glimpse of the old woman, I suddenly felt as if struck by a jolt of electricity as I saw her on her back in the slushy snow, struggling like an over-turned turtle.

Bolting out the door hoping to be the first to reach her,  I almost found myself lying next to her on the slick sidewalk.  Nothing was said as I struggled to lift her up.  Once this was accomplished I asked her if she was alright.  Instead of answering  she started looking around for her package.  I spotted the torn, soaked paper sack some ten feet away in a slushy puddle and went to retrieve it.  The doll had come half way out of the sack and her little blonde curls were now filled with water and slush; and as I handed it back I searched the old woman’s face for even a trace of sadness, there was none. Instead she looked at me smiled and said, “thank you young man, it’ll dry out, it’ll be alright, Merry Christmas.”  Then holding the doll in both hands, she turned and went on her way, much slower and much more cautiously.  I just stood there and watched her until she finally disappeared in the crowd and darkness and thought to myself, “maybe Santa Claus isn’t a man after all.”

On 3/2/2016 at approximately 10:15 a.m. I was threatened by Bryan Pearsall as I was exiting the building where I reside. He made threats to me which contained language that no one should have to hear. I ignored his threats and continued on my daily routine. I proceeded to the 7-11 to purchase a cup of coffee. As I was walking out of the 7-11 into the parking lot Mr. Pearsall again approached me, making threatening remarks. I then noticed a police officer on State Street. I asked the police officer for assistance in this matter and he (the officer that was not wearing a name tag) refused to offer any help. I continued on to Main St. Walking down Camden Street I noticed another police officer on the other side of Main Street. His car was parked on Camden St blocking off traffic to Camden St. as there was construction going on that day. When I shouted out the Suspects name to confront him. The Suspect Bryan Pearsall then entered the Gateway School to hide an opened container of alcohol. The police officer who also was unidentifiable due to not displaying his name tag exclaimed "I'm not getting involved" and went in to his patrol car slamming the driver's side door. I then proceeded to enter the Johnson Public Library. I then used the computer's word processor to type up an affidavit. About twenty minutes later. The police officer that was blocking off Camden Street entered the library. He said that "that guy you tried to turn in is a cop. Watch what you say to cops"! I replied with "If he's a cop then I'm Corporal Christ! I'm pretty sure the police department wouldn't hire a drunken ******. "Oh" the unidentified officer continued "how do know THAT?" "Because he's lived across the hall from me for the past five years and I know from the drinking and puking and stupor that he is in fact a drunk ******." I retorted "Well, he's a cop" the officer replied, and then left the building. About a minute later, the suspect Bryan Pearsall entered the JPL. He stood about eight feet from me and stated that he was a cop. The woman that runs the circulation dept. overheard him and stated "Bryan Pearsall you get over here you ain't no cop and that officer is in trouble." (I thank the stars for honest people like Ellen.) After   I typed up my report, I headed towards the Hackensack Police Department. At that time I felt a little hungry and stopped for a late breakfast at the lucheonette. As soon as I finished eating I went to the front desk of the HPD to turn in my report. Not only did the Desk Seargent spat on me, he stated that he was not interested in helping scuzbags and continued spatting on me. I think now that I have no other choice but to take the law into my own hands. If the law won't help me, there is always the old fashion way to receive JUSTICE.

saw:

the adoration of the daddy,
as his red haired babes
leaned into
either side of him,
courtiers to a king
on the way to school this AM,
transfusing his magical super~fatherly,
by inhaling his special powers through
their nostrils, direct from his
broad and powerful brave-heart chest,
for use later in the wild jungle
of second grade
•••
an elderly gent whose walker rattled
with every lift and kerplunk on
the street~steppes of a dangerous city
for the brittle of bone and the easily dentable,
and the crowd that gathered round walking
at precisely the same pace he required
to make it across the widest boulevard
which was thirty seconds more than the
Dept. of Transportation's asinine calculations
and a miracle from Lourdes occurred -
not one horn honked in ire as the court
escorted their Long Live the King
safely across the street, as if
idiocy was like rain, against the law,
until after sunset as in Camelot
•••
an elegant germanic man,
in homburg and velvet collared overcoat,
taking care of sales and distribution of
newspapers and candy at the corner paper "stand"
while the elderly owner, whose partner~wife of
fifty years had recently passed, now had no one
but someone's pop whose was out
walking our cocker spaniel,
to tend the place while said candyman
obeyed nature's callings

and all his fans and friends who passed
on their way to the adjacent subway station,
exclaimed Erwin, Erwin what are you doing?
his twinkled crinkled eyes replied,
enjoying their puzzlement, laughingly saying
"making spare change"
•••
where I lived these little miracles occurred so frequently,
was told a story that the ministering angels
could not keep up with their duties,
complaining to the On High, who resoundingly loudly
commanded their silence! by reminding them that
all these, his creatures, were his own precious,
the reason for creation and why they were needed,
and the sum of all these small acts gave them their own
existential purpose, now angry at himself for loss of temper,
soft spoke as a parent and told them better,
hush my children, we have much to do!
•••
so now you impatiently need to know
why this scripture
came to be known as
$$$$$
for I was witness to all of this,
all on that day,
that was twenty fours hours long
across many hard hearted Hiroshima decades,
that made me
temporarily
the richest man in the world

ARTERY  CONFESSION.


Her love to me is like moon light, on a starry night.
As rising sun at dhawn. Like vine planted on his heart's yard. which he ought to water to flowery And fruitage.
his love for her is as deep as the dept of an ocean, with the fishes abiding therein, as stars, moon, and the sun adhered to the sky, it never
departed away from her side.

  his love to her can simply easily be compared to GOD's towards mankind.

So he confessed and rendered  his heart to her. Like a teeming downpour upon  earthen  soften, it surface.
so her love compassed his heart comforting, like pabulum to mind.

As light rays to eye sight. His love for her is reality only can be told in tale of their love story,

gory to glory. He so
Much love her  and
really ready,

in for her, fell in the water.
Lost and found with her for ever. He wish he could wash her feet wilt the waters of his soul, cleansing her heart.

because he see her heart compatible  to his.

Remembered old days of midnight calls, they never used to give sleep to their eyes. While talk through night, dusk till dawn,

Remembered  promises and all the pain they both had gone through heaven and hell.

Never forgot the only first day he felt the fullness of her *******, how sooth her heart. Tongue on tongue, mouthy pleasure.

His hands on her curves. Briskly remembered she told him that after her
momma he be  next to her.

She call him dad he call her Mami. Before she demised his mama used to asked about his lady. His homies do too.
His young blood can't either forget her memories,
last night he was asked about her, oh sweetness
is all about thee. Can't forget
her,   _he always craves_ her. All he ever wanted and desires are all found in her, his boo. He truly loves her because he  knew she'd  make a good mother,

Hope she'd understand if he change sometimes just only because he never own everythang as his. So remember he always told her
that he will always be there  for her as time,
even in the world after here. Her love is so good to him

She has  the key to his heart.
reminisce she told him she'd


rather die for him than sleeping at someone else side.
She's his inspiration like a transportation, his motivation only she can help build his cloud nation. His aspiration
all is found in her, all in ONE no one else but she.

She source the past time joy and still the reason for today's and the hope
of tomorrow's glee.

Sacrifice his love for her because he believes in future with her, she's his  destiny his fate mate his ruth, his batsheba,
His mary, his eve and soulmate.
#c9_fm

I know you hear me so listen close.
Its what you think that matters most.
We can boast about these post.
Without these dreams,
It seems,
we lose what matters most.
These schemes,
playing us against our hopes.
Got us
Up against the ropes,
thoughts up in smoke.
Just when I lost all hope,
my mirror image inspired hope.
Getting high off myself, like a rope a dope.
success getting me stressed,
my life's a mess, I must confess. The more I make, the less a progress. These haters love you with all this disrespect. Catching writers block in the winners circle, got me scares to death. The critics taking hits below the belt, and my paychecks pay the dept. The fans turn against me, kept my cool, by holding my breath. These bills piling up, spent my whole life savings, there's no saving my savings. Keep praying to god, but I'm still waiting. Life has its up and downs. I just wish it would make up its mind, this shaky ground makes for lite sleeping. I can't even sleep in on the weekend.

My home in my dreams,

I am amazed every night, when I see you in my dreams.

When I look at the moon., I see the tower to the north.

I can not believe you changed,
My life forever.

I only wish I can find the courage, to hold you in my arms at last.

My home in my dreams,
I wish I had met you a lifetime ago.

I wish I could give you one thousand of
my lifetimes.

I owe you my life,
My Seoul Korea.

I love you.

I miss you.

I owe you my life,
I owe you. You are the reason I am still alive,
Arirang, I owe you more than ever!

Seoul I love you,
A place I have only been to in my dreams,

How can I ever repay you?
For sending me such beautiful dreams.

I am amazed every night, when I see you in my dreams.

I live for you every day to hold you in my arms,

I live for you!
My Seoul,

I wish I could be standing in your arms where I belong.

My love Seoul,
I can't help but smile and wonder why God sent me here far to the West.

When you tell me every day, I belong in your arms.

But I owe you so much,
Hundreds of poems,

Hundreds of dreams
from a place, I have never been.

Amazing!
How can this be?

I love you Seoul Korea
that time can never take away.

I owe you more than my life
More than anything
I know this is a dept that I will never be able to repay.
Because I owe you so much
I owe you my life now, more than ever,

Why was I born so far away?

In the wrong time and wrong place?

Seoul Korea

My home in my dreams.


(C) 2014 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

"When you encounter a mountain lion, be vocal; however, speak calmly and do not use high pitched tones or high pitch screams"--California Dept. of Fish and Wildlife

Be vocal, but avoid high pitched tones and screams
when a mountain lion appears on your path.
Remind yourself that it’s not a  dream.

If the path goes down to a flooded stream,
and bodies float by--
stay calm;  avoid high pitched tones and screams.

When you go to the store and there’s no milk or cream,
as the cows are sickened  from a poisoned well,
remind yourself that it’s not a dream.

If the wildfire turns your hot tub to steam,
as you run down the street to your neighbor’s car
be vocal, but avoid high pitched tones and screams.

When the weather goes to another extreme,
and mudslides cover another town,
remind yourself that it’s not a dream.

When the fisherman catches no salmon nor bream,
and there’s no more coffee, nor chocolate ice cream,
be vocal, but avoid high pitched tones and screams.
Remind yourself that it’s not a dream.

Did you ensure
Your qualifications

as

A load bearing wall
Before attempting to lift

the

Injured bird
Off the ground