A Different Christmas

Chapter 1

December 1961. Christmastime in the South. The holidays were better for some, worse for others. Changing times, changing attitudes, but not nearly fast enough for those seeking Santa and the right to vote.

Thin wisps of smoke, scented with pine, and a touch of orange-cinnamon double-helixed from the fireplace of Delia Rivers’ small brick house near North Charleston, South Carolina. Delia wiped her brow. Carefully she extinguished the fire, taking special care to dampen and remove all ash and embers from the fireplace. When she finished, she smiled, barely able to contain her ecstatic mood, for today was Christmas Eve, and not just any Christmas Eve. This Christmas Eve would indeed be special. And not just Christmas Eve, but Christmas Day, as well. For once, Christmas would not be humdrum and melancholy. For once, Christmas would be worth celebrating. For once, Christmas would be different.

Delia Rivers showered, and prayed. While reading The Good Book she fell asleep for a couple of hours.

Well before dawn on Christmas Eve, Delia eased into her son’s room. Time to get up, Matthew.

Matthew rubbed his eyes, and gurgled I love you, momma, before rolling back over and dreaming of distant lands.

Delia smiled, for she knew, if Matthew knew her surprise, he would not have been able to sleep last night. Rustling his covers ever so gently, Delia said in a soft, motherly voice, Matthew it is time to get up. It’s Christmas Eve. We have an incredibly busy day ahead of us.

As Matthew opened his eyes wide enough to see his mother, he smacked his lips in a disinterested manner. So it was Christmas Eve. And tomorrow would be Christmas Day. So what? For Matthew, Christmas Day was simply one uneventful day in a year of three hundred sixty-five uneventful days. Christmas represented nothing special to Matthew. Though barely six, he avoided sending Santa a long list because his mother informed him that Santa could not visit every child, every year, for it was simply physically impossible. So he did not expect a visit from Santa. And if the man in red with a white beard left him a present, then he knew it would be something practical, like a shirt, or socks, or a comb and brush set.

Come on, Matthew. Time to get up. I’ve got a surprise for you. But if you don’t get up, then you will miss it.

Surprise? What on earth could momma mean by surprise? Was it possible that this Christmas Eve would be different from other Christmas Eves? After yawning, he asked, What surprise, momma?

Well, you will have to get up, and brush your teeth, before I can tell you.

Matthew had not seen that twinkle in his mother’s eyes in some time. She must really have a big surprise to spring on him. Try as he might, he could not think of what the surprise might be. Can you give me a hint, momma?

Not until you get out of bed, and brush your teeth. And if you don’t hurry, the surprise just might pass you.

Matthew wanted to ask his mother more questions. However, he realized that she would not reveal the surprise until he complied with her requests. So he tossed back his covers and comforter, and jumped out of bed. You stay right here, momma. I am going to brush my teeth like they’ve never been brushed before, and I will be back in less than two minutes.

With her eyes vibrant and glistening as flawless as black diamonds, Delia responded cheerfully, I will not go anywhere. I’ll be right here, waiting for you.

Matthew rushed to the bathroom, pressed a generous amount of toothpaste on his toothbrush, and brushed them, in the manner taught to him by his dentist, Doctor Handy. After brushing his teeth, he gargled with a fruity mouthwash. With clean teeth, and a tingly tongue, Matthew returned to his mother. Okay, momma. My teeth are clean and will shine in a pitch black room. Now, what is the surprise you have for me?

What if I told you that we were going on a trip today?

A trip? On Christmas Eve? Where on earth could we be going on Christmas Eve? Could it be the North Pole? Of course, it couldn’t be the North Pole. Santa Claus has probably left the North Pole to deliver toys to children in other parts of the world. Where, momma? What kind of trip could we be taking on Christmas Eve?

We’re going on a special trip.

Each time his mother spoke, Matthew’s heart rate increased a bit. A special trip? Momma, please, oh please, tell me where we are going on Christmas Eve.

We’re going on a bus trip to Baltimore, to see your father.

A bus trip to see my father! Matthew exclaimed. Mathew smiled as hard and as wide as any child could. Meeting his father for the first time he could remember would be the best Christmas present he could imagine. This isn’t a joke, is it, momma?

No, Matthew, it is not a joke. This time tomorrow, you will be opening up Christmas presents, at your father’s house in Baltimore.

Matthew could not believe his six year-old ears. He would actually spend Christmas Day with his father. An emotional tidal wave overwhelmed Matthew. In the span of a minute, he experienced a whirlwind of feelings ranging from happiness to apprehension, from elation to befuddlement, from inquisitiveness to uncertainty.

Over the last couple of years, Matthew had spoken to his father on the phone occasionally, perhaps once a month, plus on his birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. While Matthew knew that his father’s voice was deep, and strong, that was about all that Matthew knew about his father. For Matthew could not remember the last time he had seen his father. And the reason that Matthew could not remember his father was because the last time they shared an embrace was when Matthew was less than three years old. Jerimiah left son and wife, in search of a better job, with steady pay and benefits. Matthew cherished the few photos taken of his father. He was tall, a couple shades darker than Matthew, and with black, penetrating eyes.

As happy as Delia was for Matthew who was about to see and hug his father, she was happier for herself. She never thought she would have been separated from her husband for over five years. Initially, Delia had stayed in South Carolina to care for her ill mother. Within months however, her mother died. But Delia stayed in South Carolina, stayed in the house her mother had bought because she did not want to uproot Matthew and move north, especially if Jerimiah’s job abruptly ended. As for Jerimiah, he almost never took time off from his job, fearing that his job at a soft drink bottling plant, might be given to someone younger, or stronger, or cheaper, if he requested vacation leave, or called in sick.

So they had remained apart, until they were convinced that they could re-unite without further separations. Of course, the present separation had forced unpleasant sacrifices.

Nevertheless, Jerimiah had faithfully mailed over half his weekly check to her, and Delia had worked two domestic jobs, in order to make ends meet. They spoke to one another every Sunday after church, and on special occasions like birthdays, and holidays. But a weekly ten minute conversation could not replace actual time together. Moreover, those special occasions in a couple or family’s life, missed in the pursuit of a better life could never be re-captured.

Both parents agonized over not spending enough time with their son. But, in spite of their less than ideal family situation, Matthew had blossomed into a handsome, inquisitive, and helpful six year-old. Delia was most impressed with her son’s willingness to learn, and respectful manner. She was convinced that those qualities would benefit him later in life.

Yet, one day apart turned into one week, and one week turned into one month. And as months stretched into years, Delia’s neighbors spread rumors that she and Jerimiah would never be re-united. There were those who believed that Jerimiah had married another woman. There were others who believed that he had become an alcoholic unable to keep steady employment. And there were other who believed that Delia had simply lost contact with her husband, or that Jerimiah was simply too ashamed to return to South Carolina, and re-establish roots with his wife and son.

But Delia knew better, and knew the tenacity, morality, and overall character of Jerimiah. Not for one minute, not for one second did Delia believe any of the whispers or rumors concerning Jerimiah. He was still the same kind, gentle, trustworthy man that she married. Each one his letters re-affirmed that belief. Delia stored every letter in a special keepsake box, at last count kept over five hundred fifty. Jerimiah was the one person she could trust without reservation. So, Delia ignored those convinced that her long distance union with Jerimiah would end in divorce.

And after what seemed an eternity, Jerimiah had saved enough to purchase a small row house in the Broadway East neighborhood of East Baltimore. Jerimiah warned Delia that the house was a true fixer-upper. But it would be their fixer-upper, and they would finally be reunited as a family. Delia could not imagine a better holiday present than sharing dinner and presents as a united family on Christmas Day.

Matthew’s emotions remained in overdrive. Matthew had endured comments about his father from classmates, and children living in the neighborhood. Some kids taunted him saying, "Your father doesn’t live with you because he doesn’t love you. Others remarked, You don’t really have a father. You were born in a cabbage patch."

Cruel but effective were the comments. On occasion Matthew cried himself to sleep, wondering, if only for an evening, whether his father really loved him. Deep down, he knew his father cared for him very much. Not a week went by that his mother did not go to great lengths to re-inforce that his father wanted nothing more than to be a vital part of Matthew’s life. Now, he was going to see his father and prove all his so-called friends, wrong. Matthew was certain that he would discover that he had the best father in the world. And when he returned to South Carolina, he would be sure to tell his best friend, James Ward, even though, at the moment, they were not on speaking terms.

Rummaging through his chest of drawers, he asked, What should I wear on the bus?

Anticipating such a question, Delia answered quickly, Check your closet. You have a nicely pressed and starched white shirt, and your new brown suit, you know the one with the brass buttons. And to top it off, you have that brown tie you got for your birthday, and your black school shoes.

Suit and tie, and school shoes? Momma, I’m going to meet my daddy, not go to church.

I know.

Matthew thought for a moment, then smiled. You’re right, momma. I need to make a good first impression on my father.

No matter how Matthew looked, Delia sensed that Matthew’s first embrace and hug of his father would be a memory she would cherish for the rest of her life. Nevertheless, Delia was constantly amazed by the depth of perception Matthew displayed for a six year-old. He truly seemed wise beyond his years. For a moment or two, she stared at her son. While not the spitting image of his father, Matthew shared the soulful brown eyes, and curly black hair of Jerimiah. And Matthew’s broad smile, so reminded Delia of Jerimiah. Delia was certain that Matthew would grow up to be as handsome as his father.

Chapter 2

Pine-scented smoke wafted from the stone fireplace of Cedric and Martha Brown’s brick ranch house in southeast Raleigh, North Carolina. By sunrise, Martha had boiled enough carrots for four large bowls of her award-winning marinated carrots. Especially at the holidays, she was happy that Cedric had purchased an extra refrigerator and freezer, and placed both of them in their basement.

It was Christmas Eve, and Martha Brown should have been getting ready for church. But, she was Chairperson of the Mercy Mount Moriah Baptist Church Christmas Dinner and Social, so she had not a moment to spare, making sure that she prepared her dishes, along with confirming that others of the Christmas Dinner and Social Committee had prepared their dishes. Last year, over two hundred persons ate dinner or dessert at the church. This year, the Committee expected to serve at least two hundred fifty hungry souls.

Martha sat down at the kitchen table, and scanned her Christmas checklist. She crossed off the list, boil carrots. She added onto her list, buy another strand of lights for outside. She examined the list further, and noted that she needed to bake at least three apple pies before noon. Recognizing that every second counted, she walked over to the pantry, and removed a five pound sack of granny smith apples. It was indeed time to make the pies.

After baking the pies, Martha would bake a Red Velvet cake, her husband, Cedric’s, favorite. Then she would make another Red Velvet Cake for church. Combined with the other ladies sweets, Martha expected four Red Velvet Cakes, four Pineapple cakes, two German Chocolate cakes, ten apple pies, six sweet potato pies, three blueberry pies, twelve dozen sugar cookies, twelve dozen chocolate chip cookies, five dozen peanut butter cookies, and five dozen chocolate coconut cookies.

Martha enjoyed Christmas more than any other holiday. Beyond the gifts and egg nog; beyond the decorated trees and sentimental movies; beyond the parades and church, Martha celebrated Christmas in grand style. She could not put her finger on precisely what was her favorite holiday tradition. But Martha appreciated the fact that for a time, a brief time, there was a pretense of civility, in an otherwise uncivil world. For a precious few days, the struggles associated with civil rights were overshadowed with a call of peace and goodwill to one and all. And for a precious few days, the lights and music of Christmas transformed the souls of all, except those who purposefully resisted the spirit of Christmas.

Steven Brown awoke on Christmas Eve happy that he was one day closer to Christmas Day. For Steven, he could not envision anything that he did not like about Christmas. After all, there were the Christmas sugar cookies, loaded with sparkles, and the triple chocolate brownies sprinkled with powdered sugar, and there were pecan, and apple, and sweet potato pies. And beyond the sweets, and other tasty edibles, there were the decorations complete with colorful twinkling, and cascading illumination. There were the school parties, and the neighborhood, and church get-togethers. And then there were the presents, not just one present, or a couple of presents, but mountains of presents. Christmas was New Year’s Day, July 4th, his birthday, and the first day of summer all rolled into one. Christmas was absolutely the best time of the year for Steven, because he could over-indulge to his heart’s delight, with little supervision from his mother. And there was no reason to think that this Christmas would be any different from any other Christmas. So Steven expected nothing