Mrs. Claus was knitting tiny footies out of the brightest red yarn ever spun. Oh, they weren’t for any baby that the Claus’ knew but were special presents for Gamin the Elf whose old footies just plain wore out.
She noticed Santa pacing up and down the living room and looking out the door window every few seconds.
“What’s the matter, Dear? Does something have you worried this season?” She asked without even looking up from her knitting.
“Well…it should have been here by now….or even by yesterday. There are only two days to go!” said Santa wringing his hands and staring out into the snowy horizon.
Then after another hour or so there was a loud “VRRROOOM” which shook the whole house and startled Mrs. Claus causing her to “drop a stitch.”
“Oh, My…what was that?” Mrs. Claus exclaimed.
Santa was jumping up and down and clapping his hands and opening the front door and charging out without even putting on his red jacket.
“You’ll catch a cold if you go out without…..” Mrs. Claus started to say but it was too late because Santa was already making tracks in the North Pole snow running like a youngster out to the front gate.
Mrs. Claus put down her knitting and went to the door and what she saw made her jump back in amazement.
For sitting right in front of the gate was a huge shiny silver object with flashing lights and white smoke coming out of its enormous tail.
Santa was still jumping around like a little boy on Christmas morning as Mrs. Claus came out to join him. She hadn’t seen him this happy since…well…last Christmas.
“What is it Dear?” she asked.
“Oh it’s my new sled…it’s finally here!”
Santa was looking over and under and all around the new “contraption” as Mrs. Claus called it.
“How did it get here? I mean there’s no driver or delivery man or anyone.” Mrs. Claus was very confused by the whole scene.
“Oh, it’s programmable. “Fly by wire” my Dear it’s the newest thing. Doesn’t actually need a driver/pilot or whatever.” Santa’s smile was wide and he crinkled his nose as he admired his new flying device.
“It’ll do Mach One easy! Oh….it’s gonna save me so much more time. Had to do something with so many more children that I have to get to these days.” Mrs. Claus could hardly see Santa’s eyes ’cause he was smiling so much.
“What do you think? Isn’t it wonderful?” Santa asked.
“Ah…well anything that saves you time….except…well…never mind…..” Mrs. Claus was scratching her head and actually looking sad.
“What’s the matter…I guess you don’t understand how wonderful my new sleigh really is because you didn’t have to fly the old one!”
“Ah…no Dear…I was just thinking about…well…you know…the reindeer.”
“Oh….Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and all. Ummm….that’s a good point, Dear.” Santa wasn’t smiling so broadly anymore.
“Maybe you should call them all together and explain that… well…technology has improved the Christmas Eve flight. I’m sure they’ll understand. They probably hated flying all that way through cold and heat and rains and snows…even though they never complained.” Mrs. Claus suggested.
“Ummm….I’m not so sure that my new SUPER SLED was such a good idea after all.”
Santa went over to the stable to break the news to the reindeer
in as positive a manner as he could.
After Santa came back from the stable Mrs. Claus asked him…”Well, how did the reindeer take the news Dear?”
“Ah…we worked something out!”
Two days later right after dusk Mrs. Claus heard the VROOM roar of the engines of Santa’s new SUPER SLED and went to the window to wave Goodbye to Santa and wish him a safe worldwide journey.
As Santa taxied the jet sleigh and turned it to head South,(of course, EVERY direction is South from the North Pole) Mrs. Claus had to chuckle as she saw all eight reindeer sitting in the two back seats and Rudolph riding shotgun up front with Santa!

About the time that the North Pole elves gave Santa (formerly Kris Kringle) his famous name, Mrs. Kringle….ah…CLAUS told him that he needed a distinctive suit to wear on that special night.
All the elves and of course Santa agreed that it was a good idea but nobody…and I mean NO one could agree on the style and color.
Oh there were many suggestions about Robes and Parkas and even green tights…(that one obviously came from the Elves) and all agreed that there should be fur trimming too. (But NOT Caribou fur. Everyone and especially the reindeer, which are actually caribou themselves, unanimously agreed!)
Being an excellent seamstress as well as a VERY understanding wife, Mrs. Claus had a cupboard chock full of bolts of fabric in many colors, including in fact all of the colors of the rainbow.
Mrs. Claus held up samples of fabric under Santa’s chin to see how each color suited Santa’s coloring and svelte shape.
The Elves loved EVERY one, so of course their opinion was dismissed by Mrs. Claus (remember the tights suggestion?).
Well the white fabric almost made Santa disappear…sort of North Pole camouflage…and that just wouldn’t do.
No green…that was an Elf color…and the blue…well…picture a giant blueberry if you will.
The yellow was pretty good but the Elves couldn’t stop snickering and muttering something about “The Lemon That Ate The North Pole”
After that… I’m sure you all can guess what the Elves thought of Santa in an Orange suit.
Purple?…”NO!” Santa didn’t even allow his wife to hold that fabric anywhere near him.
There was one bolt of fabric left…all together now…. that’s right…RED!
“What do you think?” Mrs. Claus asked Santa.
“Hmmmm”….hmmmm’d Santa. And as he looked around all the Elves were nodding their pointy capped heads and gathering close by Santa.
“Ah…yes I like…no…I LOVE it!” exclaimed Santa.
“Whew!” the relieved Mrs. Claus sighed, and then set about to make the famous suit that Santa is never publicly seen without.
And in spite of what one Elf whispered upon first seeing Santa in his new red suit…Fire Engines are VERY masculine!

Mrs. Claus was very concerned that Santa, the “Jolly Old Elf” as he is sometimes referred to, needed a bit of assistance as he became more “Old” than “Elf” but still “Jolly”.
Mrs.Claus, (her first name is “Eve” as we mentioned in a previous story) suggested that Santa hire an intern to assist with his annual duties.
Santa at first considered the idea “preposterous” but Eve saw how slowly that he climbed into and out of the sleigh and other small clues that made clear to her that Santa could use a non-Elf hand or two.
But who would be available to help Santa in the cold cold North Pole?
Perhaps a young person from Siberia or Finland or Alaska. She even considered a robot until she remembered that the elves had to keep all robot presents warm until delivery.
Plus the fact that as Santa’s assistant, the work would be a concentrated part time job which made her think of a college student that always had off of classes for the Christmas holidays.
Then there was the problem of advertising the job. There might be thousands of applicants and who would interview them and neither Eve nor Santa would want to disappoint a single one.
What to do?
Maybe the answer wasn’t hiring an intern after all but just to lighten the Christmas Eve load of gifts that Santa had to deliver.
By the way, all of this happened 20 or so years ago and we just heard about it during one of our fireside chats with the Claus’.
You all know by now what Mrs. Claus did to help Santa and he is still managing to handle his Christmas Eve duties by himself.

What? Oh yes…I didn’t actually remind you of the solution to Santa’s problem…why UPS, FedEX and all of the postal services around the world.
Have a Merry Christmas and don’t forget to check your front steps and mailboxes kids.

by russ mckay  

TIME: 1960’s PLACE: Baltimore

CHAPTER ONE

Billy James looked so small and so sad standing by third base. He tried to hide his tears, but they were dropping so fast, that he soon gave up and just turned and walked away toward the left field gate, dropping his fielder’s glove and kicking it away into the dirt pile near the empty stands.

“Billy…BILLY!” A shout came from behind home plate, as a hobbled older man climbed from the bench seats and with much discomfort stepped out onto the baseball field.

“Wait Billy my boy!” the man strained to call out as he was trying to follow the kid, but was losing ground with each of the boy’s quickening steps.

Finally, the boy, recognizing his Grandfather’s voice, stopped and turned back toward the man and wiped his eyes with his uniform sleeve. Billy didn’t move as his Grandfather Hector James arrived, winded and frail at the boy’s side.

That was a tough play Billy. Why even Brooks Robinson woulda had a time with that short hop!”
“I hate baseball Papa. Never gonna…….” The tears were back, and Billy just turned away and looked down at the ground and kicked at the dirt.

“Well. That’s enough for today son. Let’s go and get us a milkshake at “Taffys” what do ya think?”

“I just wanna go home Papa.”

“Well, we will. As soon as we’re full of Taffys’ Malted Double Chocolate shakes!”

“Wait! First I wanna get your glove.”

“Aw, leave it. I never wanna see it or touch it again!”

“Well, I might need to use it next week when I play with the Codgers against the dreaded Fogies in Memorial Stadium!”
Billy tried, but just couldn’t stop the smile that wiped his tears away. He took his Grandpa’s hand and they left the field and slowly walked to Taffy’s.

CHAPTER TWO

Filled with the happy elixer from Taffy’s, the two generations of James’ rounded the last corner and neared the small brick row house that had been Hector James’ home since the day that he was born. Billy and his Mom lived two doors down, managing to keep the house even after the sudden loss of Billy’s Dad in an accident at the Bethlehem Steel plant in Sparrows Point.

Billy was a smart and talented lad, but wanted things to be too good and come too soon for the life that he and his Mom were now living.

“Well, I’ll see you at dinner Papa.”

“Billy. Stop in a moment will ya. I wanna show you something. Something special that I’ve never shown you before!”

“Well…..OK. But I gotta get home to set the table and Roy Rodgers is comin’ on soon too.”

“Won’t take but a few minutes.”

Billy looked past his Grandad’s house toward his and thought. “Ok. But can you hurry a bit?

“I ain’t fast anymore, but I can be quick!”

Billy looked up at his Papa and smiled. “I like the way you say stuff Grandpa.”

Inside the house, Grandpa James took Billy up to the attic. It took awhile and Billy asked what time it was every minute or two.

“Ahhh. Now! Got something I want to show you. It’s back in here last I saw it. Naw. Hmmmn.”

Billy was getting impatient. “Wish I had a watch!” he said.

“You’d wear it out in a day or two!”

“You can’t wear out a watch just by lookin’ at it! Can ya?”

“Nobody has yet. But I bet you could! Oh…HERE it IS!”

Hector pulled out an old wrinkled gold painted baseball glove from just above therafter and dusted it off. “This here is a glove that’ll turn any boy that puts it on into a wiz kid baseball player. And I’ll tell you a secret…Brooks actually put on this glove once himself when he was just a rookie. It was the year he first came to play for the Orioles! And that’s a fact!”
“Really Papa?:

“Really Billy!

Billy reached for the glove, but Grandpa James pulled it away so quick that Billy’s eyes got really big in wonder.

“Told you I was quick! It’s the glove son. The Glove!”

“Wow, Papa.” Then Billy reached for the glove again.

“NOPE! First…and foremost, you’ve got to say the oath.”

“What’s an OATH?”
“It’s a promise that you can’t EVER break.”
“OK. What do I say?”

“It’s more like What Do I PROMISE? Are you ready to make the promise?”

”What is it.?”

“OK. Put you left hand into the glove. Now repeat after me…”I Billy James, Do promise …….to use this golden glove to play my very best…… at all times and in every game from now on…….. And if I should make an error,,……. it will not be because of the glove,……… but because I can and WILL do better……… next time and every time after that!”

“I want to go back to the field right now and try it out Papa!”

“Well, Billy, you have to get home to help your Mom and eat dinner. Wait until morning and I’ll get your coach Ted to meet you there and hit you some grounders and see how that glove helps.”

“Aww…OK Papa. But I’m not letting this glove out of my sight!”

“I’ll go with you tomorrow. You’ll see what a difference it will be.”

CHAPTER THREE

That evening, Billy stayed awake as long as he could, but finally fell asleep wearing his “new” old gold glove. It surprised him that he didn’t dream about the glove, or of playing flawless baseball. He awoke the next morning earlier than his Mom, which had never happened before He was too excited to eat breakfast, but his Mom allowed a glass of orange juice and a slice of toast as a substitute.

The doorbell rang…”That’s Papa!. We’re gonna go to the field and Ted will hit me some grounders.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high Billy. After all, it’s just an old glove.”

“Mom.”

“Yes, Billy. What?”

“You never played baseball before did ya?”

His Mom laughed and rubbed his head. “Go answer the door and get your Papa and see if he wants breakfast!”

The answer was yelled from the front step “Noooo…too excited to get to the ballpark!”

Billy and Papa met Ted and Billy took his position at third base. The first grounder was rather softly hit and a bit routine. Billy moved right and crouched and the ball hit the thick part of the heel of the glove and bounced away.

All was still after/the error. Billy went to retrieve the ball and looked over to his Grandpa who was walking slowly out to third base.

“Now Billy. You have to do your part too, so that the glove can work right. You can’t just throw the glove out there on the field and expect it to catch baseballs. You have to get in position and square up and bend down and keep the glove low and be ready. The glove needs to know that you also know what you’re doin’…get it?”

“Yeah. Papa. Me and this gold glove are partners!”

“Righto! Now take another grounder. Ted! Hit him a hard one!’

Billy had to turn a quick left and scoop up the hot grounder, catch it in the web and throw the ball to first . Billy’s accurate throw actually hit the bag!

“Wow! That’s some kinda good fieldin’ Billy. Brooks would be proud of that one!”

Billy fielded line drives, pop ups and hard grounders for so long, that Ted got tired and Papa needed restin; too.

After the session and Coach Ted was thanked, Billy and Papa slowly walked home. As they arrived at Papa’s house, Billy looked up at his Grandfather and said, “Thanks Papa. It isn’t the glove is it? It’s really me and how I try or not.”

“Billy., . You learned somethin’ today that most people take a long time to figure out…if they ever do!”

“I’m beat!” moaned the big bass drum.
“It’s not surprising since the stick that I’m hit with is called a “beater!”
“I know…I know… I’m supposed to be….beaten, but I’m starting to not like it so much.”
Dudley the drum had to admit that he loved marching in parades and adding the “Boom” to the band but more and more he looked forward to the “after” parade rest.
He could recall when he was little, his drum parents would punish him when he did something wrong by not beating him for a week.
He had to just sit there during their jam sessions and not make a sound. He was so happy when the punishment was over and they started to lovingly beat him again.
But at his age he guessed that he had been thumped, struck, boomed or whatever verb you cared to use, thousands upon thousands of times and he just wasn’t enjoying it as much as before. What to do?
Then one afternoon he was suddenly picked up, sideways…and placed flat on the carpet in his owner’s living room right in front of the sofa.Then a vase of flowers and a candy dish were put on his “skin” and he heard them say…”Well…what do you think? COFFEE TABLE…or not?”
Dudley’s life flashed in front of him as he realized that he might possibly never be beaten again!
It seemed to Dudley like hours that he sat there and they just stared at him from various angles, “tsk”ing and pulling at their jaws…until finally the woman said…”No…I don’t think so!”
The man then said…”Yeah…I agree.”
The flowers and candy were removed and Dudley was set upright and then both of his owners hit him simultaneously with their beater.
“Ah…that feels good!” Dudley whispered and never EVER complained again!

“No “FOR SALE” signs. No Real Estate Agents. No Open House events with cookies and personal tours. (Love cookies by the way) But on the plus side, my new house will be free…NO MORTGAGE!”
Actually my “House” is more like a camper. I started out small with a shell previously owned by a snail. But I soon outgrew it and had to find a bigger one. I’m on my fifth home now and I’m getting a little cramped.”
“And by the way. I don’t mean to disparage molluscs, but some of those previous owner snails really leave a messy shell. I ALWAYS do my housecleaning when moving on.”
“Ah….there….over by the turfgrass. WOW…what a beautiful golden brown color with tiny dots of dark brown. Let’s see. Looks pretty clean in there. Has to be a caring Hermit crab.”
“UGH! Wouldn’t you know it. Just a wee bit too tight. That is indeed a shame. I loved that Metropolitan style of the shell. Oh Well…the search goes on.”
“But wait. There over by the path. That one isn’t quite as stylish but it is HUGE!”
“HELLO…Hello…hello” Man it even has an echo!” I’ll just do a walk through….Gosh it’s roomy in here.” I think this one is perfect…well, except for the dull grey color….but maybe that’s good for camouflage.”
“Oh I LOVE IT…I’ll just….WAIT….this thing is heavy….WAY too heavy. I don’t want to have to carry this load around all day and running? Forget about that!”
“Shame.” Well I guess I have to go to the last resort and see my former owner Mary. She released me back into the “wild” when she left for college.”
“Mary will be able to solve my “Goldilocks” problem.”
“How can Mary help you may ask. She sells sea shells by the sea shore!”

“Get the belt…I’m fallin’ down!” said the pair of trousers known as “Smarty Pants”
“Ok…OK…hold your shirt on…I’m gettin’ it!” Billy Smith was getting dressed to go out and play on a Saturday morning and he was trying to reach the hook holding his brown belt while holding up his pants, but had to let go to reach that far.
“Whoa! I told ya…umph!!!” Smarty was now crumpled around little Billy’s ankles and as Billy tried to take a step over to fetch his belt he fell flat on his face!
“See…if you would just do what I told you, this never would have happened!” scolded Smarty.
So Billy Smith, sitting on his bedroom floor threaded his new brown belt through the belt loops and pulled the trousers up as he stood…”There!”
“Too tight….ugh….that’s way too tight….you’re strangling me….use the next hole for that buckle!” Smarty was now struggling to even speak…being “choked” by the new belt.
“Ah…how about being quiet for once or….or…I’ll tighten it up even farther!” Little Billy was beginning to lose his temper a bit.
But, being the very kind boy that he was, Billy loosened the belt and Smarty breathed a sigh of relief but was still “panting” from the lack of oxygen.
Then as Billy opened up his shirt drawer the brown buttondown yelled…”HEY…pick me Billy buddy!”
Then the blue knit shirt screamed…”No…me….you picked brownie b.d. just last Tuesday…it’s my turn.”
Billy said…”OK…you are both so selfish I’m not gonna pick either one of you!”… and he chose a plain quiet white T shirt from the bottom of the pile.
Then Billy heard a commotion coming from the bottom drawer and when he opened it, all the socks were jumping around pointing their toes at him and waving their tops wildly…”Me…..no ME…..hey ….me!!!…”
Billy shut the drawer….took off his shirt, pulled off his belt and removed his pants and went back to bed!

“George!”
“Abe!…ah….6042A….I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”
“No…3088D..I don’t believe so.”
“George….how did you get that notch there near the corner?”
“Oh that….yeah….zipper nipped me as she pulled me out to pay for a balloon at the Dollar Store. LOVE THAT PLACE.”
“Zippers…yeah….why can’t humans stick to the soft old folding wallets?”

“Progress…I guess. I hate those vending machines too, though I will admit they do help with the wrinkles you know!”

“By the way, I saw dozens of new Franklins last week when I passed through the First National Bank. I kinda like the older versions of those bills that look more like us don’t you?”
“Ah…progress again….but yes we’re more…classic…traditional…Abe.”

“By the way…I don’t really like going through the Federal Banks. I’m always nervous that they’ll examine me and decide that I’m too worn to stay in circulation.”
“Oh you’ve got a long time before …ah….I hate to say it….but you know….the SHREDDING!”
“Let’s change the subject Abe…oh wait is she gonna?…..yep….well…see you again I hope!”
“You’re gonna be with lots of friends here at the Dollar Store….see ya! George.”

“Gosh it’s lonely in here now that George is gone. I hope we go to the supermarket. I love being in those cash trays with lots of other Lincolns.”
Then a new voice yelled out….”Hey….you’re puttin’ me in the wrong….oh no…..”
“What are you doing in here? You don’t belong here this compartment is just for bills, legal tender, CASH!”
“Listen, I don’t like it any more than you do Lincoln….Might as well make the best of it….I’m Visa but you can just call me “VEE”!