Christmas Shopping and an Anecdote

For today's entry, I thought I'd give you a couple of nuggets to chew on for the holiday season. I probably won't be posting again until after Christmas (unless something really fantastic happens and I feel you simply must know about it NOW).

Anyway, I was all prepared to rant and rave about Christmas shopping, crowded stores, horrible traffic and how awful people can be during the holiday season, especially the last weekend before Christmas.

Quite simply, I can't. Let me explain.

First, traffic wasn't that bad; I've seen it much worse in the shopping centers that I frequent. Sales were good, people were surprisingly cheerful and even helpful. I couldn't believe it myself; I gave information to a lady and she not only said "thank you", but said, "Oh, honey, thank you so much, you just helped to make my baby's first Christmas!" because of the information I gave her. Someone actually backed their vehicle up so I could take a prime parking spot instead of taking it for themselves. People said "excuse me" and "I'm sorry" and "thank you".

It's surprising that I find things like that amazing, and quite frankly, the world ought not work that way. We should all be kind and polite to each other no matter what the season, but I like that it shines a little brighter during this of all seasons. Okay, sermon done.

And now for the anecdote.

It isn't snowing outside, and there isn't even a chance of a white Christmas around these parts this year, but that's okay; Chirstmas always brings back some memories of sledding and snowmen, cold feet and hot chocolate, wrapping and then later unwrapping presents. This happens to be a sledding anecdote (which happened either in late junior high or early high school); I may have another "wintery" anecdote for you after Christmas.

I have always lived in this little community in West Virginia, and my parents lived on a hill (which isn't entirely uncommon around here). Their driveway is asphalt, and when about six inches of snow falls, it's not entirely difficult to compact that six inches down to a nice, 2-inch thick sheet of ice. Makes for some fan-tas-tic sledding.

Generally, we rode down the hill on four-foot long sheets of mine belt. Picture heavy, 1/2 inch thick black rubber with a sheet of fiberglass fabric in the center, and you've pretty much got the idea. However, there was one wooden sled with steel runners that you could steer, and everyone who lived near me waited anxiously for their turn on the wood sled.

When my turn rolled around on this particular day, I had a great idea. I would ask my friend "Roundman" to ride down the sled with me. Now, before we go any further, I have to explain our track to you. Like I said, the driveway was asphalt; it curved slightly to the left, and at the bottom you had two choices. You could either hope to cross the bridge and end up either in the creek or out in the road (depending on whether or not you hit the bridge) or you could cut a little harder left and go over the 2-foot high bank and into the neighbor's yard. This feat isn't difficult to accomplish, and most of the time you could make the turn and come to a gentle stop there in the neighbor's yard.

Now, I told you that so I could tell you this - Roundman and I were going to go down the hill together on the fastest sled known to man, on a 2-inch thick sheet of ice over asphalt. As his nickname may indicate, Roundman is NOT a small fella; our combined weight on the sled was approximately 300 pounds. He laid down on his stomach on the sled, and I laid down on his back, also on my stomach.

The moment came, and Roundman pushed off. It wasn't long before we were going approximately Mach 2 down the hill; I could feel Roundman struggling to keep control of the sled under me. We managed to make it down the hill, and make the turn into the neighbor's yard, and skidded to a halt out in the middle of his yard.

I hopped up off his back and walked a little way away from him, not turning to look at him, and said, "Oh, wow, man, we have got to do that again!" I could hear our friends chuckling around us, and I turned around and looked at Roundman. He was plucking a combination of grass, dirt and snow out of the top of his overalls-style snowsuit. The sled was about eight feet behind us, the front of the runners buried into the ground all the way to the piece of wood you use to steer the contraption.

Yep. We'd sledded for about eight feet on Roundman. He looked at me, his perpetual grin on his face, and said, "Nah, that's okay. I don't think I wanna go again."

Merry Christmas, everybody. Be safe, be joyful, and show your love.