Christmas Light

By Robert Lee Kelly

From Christmas Light

Colly, still in his coat, had turned on the radio. He was listening to Terry and the Pirates as he poured over a dog-eared copy of Superman.

"You need to get your clothes changed before Mama gets home. You hear? Colly?"

"In a minute."

"No. Now."

"Macky

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.L. Kelly
• Release date: Nov 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781088073490

Book preview

Acknowledgments

Front cover painting by John Gould

Page 14 (cottage) painting by Halfred Tygesen

Page 34 (river) painting by Nelle Merrill

Back cover painting by Nelle Merrill

Photo from the collection of Robert Lee Kelly

Copyright ©2022 Robert Lee Kelly

ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-0880-1127-0

ISBN (e book): 978-1-0880-7349-0

Printed in the United States of America

All rights reserved. No portions of this book may be republished without permission of the copyright holder, except in usage for public reviews and advertising.

Dedication

To my mother, Viola Belle, for many reasons, but especially for her esprit de corps. Fortified by her example during a crisis, I do not despair; rather, I risk a plan to help. When friend or foe learn of the risk they say, You can’t do that, Kelly. That is when I hear my mother’s voice. Yes, you can.

Not always, and only for some, childhood ends without warning, too quickly, and all at once; any place, any time, at a spot unheralded, on an anonymous day. But for at least one other, childhood lingered lovingly unmarred before going with an ascendant joy—never to be lost—on an indelible Christmas Eve.

As seen from the window of the moving streetcar, all of it had a familiar look, well-used, yet as if it were being slowly realized for the first time and effortlessly.

The streetcar rattled along the tracks, sparks spitting from the wheels and occasionally from the electric cable above as the icy rain began to glaze the pavement. Steadily it was growing dark. All the shops along Main Street had turned on their lights as shoppers huddled in the doorways, peering up and into the sky as if the falling rain needed watching.

It somehow sensitized, as any human gesture might, like a remembered nod or the good-bye wave of someone loved. It held within the confines of the moment its own meaning, releasing it for only an instant; then, perhaps, imprinting it forever. Something was being inscribed; a moment of recognition, even enlightenment. A memory of a time and place was beginning.

Inside the streetcar, eleven-year-old MacKinley Omen Guthrie was thinking about Christmas. The lighted windows of Woolworth’s five and dime already had on display gifts wrapped in the colors of the season. Every window had candy canes taped to a cut out paper snowflake border. All the mannequins were suited up in winter gear: scarfs, mittens, and stocking caps. Artificial snow had been strategically placed atop the packages, shoulders and caps.

In the biggest window, stuffed animals—teddy bears, mostly—sat beneath the branches of a Christmas tree decorated with big colored lights, strings of popcorn, and ornaments catching the light. Icicles shone silver from every branch. A Jack-in-the-box, full of surprise, sat nearby. At the top of the tree in a flowing golden robe stood a trumpeting angel, trumpet clasped in both hands, high above his golden head and halo.

Hypnotic as it all was, Macky could not ignore the war posters. The one with a full-faced Uncle Sam pointing his finger stood in the corner of the Woolworths window. It was sun-faded but its message was undiminished, riveting. The messages to buy war bonds, to conserve, to ration, to join the war