Retrospect: Christmas 2005
.
It is still fairly discomforting to recall our first months here but there is a positive tale which needs to be plucked away from that misery and shared. The impetus for recalling it now is the revisiting cold this morning, registering minus 5 degrees, and the approaching holiday.
.
For me, Christmas had declined over the years into a much dreaded affair bringing many unpleasant memories with it. The season clearly brought more bad memories than all other celebrative dates combined. Given our stark tenure here in the waning months of 2005, the weight of that dread was even more crushing. Hopefully, the concern of freezing to death would drown out those screeching harpies of Christmas past. We were now, indeed, in miserable enough circumstances to ignore all concerns but those deeply primal.
.
One night, only days before Christmas 2005, the absorbing silence and darkness of the canyon was rent wildly ablaze with light, the chortling of a truck motor and the ka-tonk, ka-tonk of a cow bell(!?). Answering the gloved thumping on the door produced a tall, coveralled stranger. He exhaled a frosty mist in the cold which had swept into the trailer with him as he announced that he was Robin and had been sent by Virgil, our new contact with the gas well company. His black cowboy hat was cocked slightly back, fully revealing a rosy complexion which may have been from the bitter cold, high blood pressure or hinting at his Cherokee heritage but he stood there as a welcomed, glowing cherub with a mega-lotto smile. That wonderful smile was punctuated only long enough for embarrassingly polite replies of "Yes, Ma'am" and "No Sir"s. He had brought with him a much-needed 500-gallon propane tank, an item which we had not had any luck securing during our rare visits to town. And this tank was still half-full! We had survived to date by refilling barbeque sized tanks but one nasty isolating storm would easily exhaust our only means of heat. This beaming young man and Virgil had gone out of their way to insure our survival. Robin and Mark wrestled the ungainly pig into position behind the rat trailer and Robin left us with enough pipe and fittings to make the connections when daylight returned.
.
Before returning to his native Texas, he and his fiancée came to see us one more time under the pretense of cleaning out more of his accumulated rat packings. But along with the items we might need out here, they unloaded several other packages. Jessie placed a large bag onto the floor, quietly admitting "Oh, they're just some things we thought you might enjoy ..." Robin, being the wonderfully big kid that he is, however, couldn't wait to give us the history about one particular package. "Well, it's just somethin' that I knew y'alls just hadta have out here, ya know. Nothin' REAL special, jus' somethin' I've had around wi' me for a while. She's jus' an old cow that I had to pop with a .22 way back but I thought that this is the right place for her and that y'all would appreciate her." I clenched with excitement but remained adamant that it would remain a bagged 'mystery' until Christmas morning.
.
Come Christmas morning, we opened the small stack of Christmas cards and read their enclosed messages and letters. They brought a non-measurable warmth with them. Then we opened Robin's and Jessie's presents. She had given us (or rather me) a basket full of niceties for the bath. Perhaps she could imagine that longing for such things; soaking in a warm bath of fragrant oils with an after-bath application of soothing lotions. Although not even remotely possible, the mere thought provided me a virtual retreat of sensual indulgence. Robin's big surprise did prove to be a cow skull with a handsome set of horns. I had not seen one this grand so far and she was soon holding court from a prominent wall in our 'ranch headquarters'. Even our cowboy visitors wondered where we had found such a fine example.
.
So although our first Christmas here was simple and unadorned, it was a very special one. While there was no neighbor like the Katlady offering dinner and company to a couple of newcomer orphans or caring whether we had ample heat resources, it was our gas field boys who came through with rare thoughtfulness. Their companies' 'good neighbor' policies didn't ask for much more than a polite intro and the occasional wave. What motivated them had come from the heart. So when you are making up your list, you might stop to consider that neighbor who never seems to leave the house on holidays. Even if they don't accept an invitation, they will know that someone cared enough to ask - and that's a genuine gift of Christmas.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment