Take off your hat, I want to stand up.

Chapter 18: Hope springs eternal.

Chapter 18: Hope springs eternal.

My Christmas Bike.

I feel I have a common story to tell. One that chronicles the tale of the common man. Myself, I am and always have been more of an observer than a participant. I have witnessed and tried to repair the truth we have been given over time and throughout time immemorial. We believe in lies. We believe lies are true. We do not believe in lying, for the sake of lying. Rather we have grown to believe lies as a means of coping, fitting in, basic relief that we share a common experience, the truth has no smile for us here.

We have grown used to small realms of belief and then shatter at its unfolding, Santa Clause, we all suffered at some time this unmasking of imaginative disbelief. Reindeers cannot fly, nor do they have big, bright, red noses, there is not a single jolly old sole we can count on to deliver our most tame and desirous wants, no needs. When a child whittles down a want it really becomes a need. I need it to survive. If we do not meet this need it is generally lost.

It charters a course, it travels from a few needs, say one or two out to sit at our core values, they are not negotiable. At ten years of age, I needed a three speed bike so bad. It almost hurt to request such a prize. I tried to put it off, send it away, but desire came flooding back even with more intent. Suppose, I thought logically how could anyone find a bike in the middle of winter? After all, everywhere the snow was seasonally high? It was impossible, and yet this jolly old Elf was magic personified.

He would find a way. We had no chimney. Details always spoiled the plot.

I could not sleep the night before Christmas, all through the house it was quiet and poco kettle dark, yet I had hope. Generally, because I was lucky, I always felt two things, very lucky and very fortunate. Lucky because I always had enough to eat, not like those starving children in Africa. I always felt fortunate because I had limbs and could walk. My parents boiled fortune down to a basic level. It was developed by living in an era of polio and other drastic diseases that could take you out. Such as the child who had the misfortune of being born with flippers for limbs, or a hole in their heart. We were terrified into a gentle level of acceptance and willfull compliance that kept the peace.

Santa must be real, all the kids, save a few, thought so. We dared not compare

pre-Christmas lists for down right flying into the face of fate. We held our breathe with hope, and a healthy side of desperate longing. If only, if only, if I was good, it would be there on that special morning. What if I was not good? What then? Too hard to think, sleep will settle the issue. Who could sleep Christmas Eve, another good question.

The sun was not up. The house had a chill. We always turned the heat down at night to save on fuel, cut costs, be good people, and save the environment. It worked the house was chilly, it would take an hour to warm it up, which was fine.

I stole through the house inspecting the traditional places we had set out our stockings. They had the function of being special, but really they were the largest socks we could find. They were usually Grandpas old woollen sock he kept in the bottom of the closet for his seasonal visit for turkey and creamy gravy.

The bike, my special hope to die for Santa gift giving bike, was no where to be found. My little disappointed face was stricken ashen and unkind. My cheeks grew three sizes.

I was a good boy, I needed a bike. The last bike I had won at the Nortown Theater, during the Elmer the Safety Elephants final kid's day give away, the grand prize. I was only three years old, when I was called up on stage I could not even reach the pedals of the give away bike, I tried and stretched to reach the pedals as I feared they would give it to some one else. The announcer said they would get one that fit, and they did. Good, but now it was a child's bike way too small for me. I was even going to donate it to my pass me down brother. After my new bike came I could say within reason it was stills in great shape, I always kept my stuff in first class Navy seaman approved sterling condition.

One problem. No bike. I was despondent, sad, it was Christmas the mismatch was almost more than I could bear. Then I thought the basement, search the basement, nothing had ever been left there but you never know, and to the mind of a ten year old there was hope. Really that is all we ever want in life is hope. Hope to some day be better than we are today, a future hope, I stepped down the wooden stairs and peered into the darkness, smelt the musty basement air, with a steady hand switched on the bare bulb basement light.

There in the corner, propped up against the wall was a wheel, it had not been there before. Joy smashed me in the face like the power of wonder. I gained the last few stairs down and settled onto the cold cement floor. I shuffled over to the bike. It was a bike, but it was not mine.

I wanted a three speed. It looked like a regular bike. I looked again. It was a girls bike. I know my sisters did not want a bike they wanted clothes and dolls and girl things, how could Santa be so mean?

My dad expanded on my thoughts when I ran into their room with disappointment evident on my face. Santa had run out of bikes and he gave you this one so you could trade it in at the store in the summer. Joy had returned to my heart and my lucky self was back.

We had a wonderful Christmas.

This put me onto a life long search for the reasonable truth of things. I did not need absolute truths, ordinary logical and tangible truths would do. Such as why do you not pee against the wind? Found out that was true, depends on the strength of the wind though. Do not stick your tongue onto metal objects in the cold of the winter, found out that was very true, it sticks, instantly and you cannot shout or speak, you are stuck. Do not run on ice. Do not talk back to your elders. All the do's and don'ts make sense once you have had a chance to discover the value of the warning first hand. There is no replacement for experience