Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Coweta (Page 106 of 108)

The Season.

Someone confessed to me this morning that they knew well the story of A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens – but in fact, had never read it. The admission made me realize that nearly everyone surrounded by Western Culture would have been exposed to the tale since the earliest days of their childhood. Book-lover that I am, even I will admit that it is tougher to commit to reading a book when the outcome is already known, much less a story that can almost be recited from memory without ever having the book in hand.

In fact, A Christmas Carol is hardly a book, it is so short in length. It was one of Mr. Dickens holiday gifts to his readers, those who subscribed to the several newspapers he owned and edited during his lifetime. He published a number of seasonal stories, of which A Christmas Carol is the best known. Generally, the short-in-length Christmas tales are gathered together and published in a single volume.

Books that I have re-read over the years are very select, but I’ve gone back to dip into the Dickens’ well numerous times. It may be because he has so many characters in most of his books that it is easy to be re-introduced to them. Even those that might eventually become forgettable are distinctive as presented by Charles Dickens. I re-read A Christmas Carol last week, and enjoyed it just as much as the first go-through.

Most of the television, stage, and film versions that I’ve seen are faithful to the original. In all likelihood, it must be difficult to wander too far off the Dickens path where the story is concerned. It is told in very concise language, with little of the wandering that he allowed himself in his longer works.

Because of the brevity of the writing, each word carries a lot of power and significance. When I reached the part describing Mr. Scrooge’s discovery that he had completed his ghostly travels in a single night, I allowed myself to backtrack and re-read the passage, thoroughly enjoying the description of the old miser throwing open the windows on his first new glimpse of Christmas morning:

“Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!”

Reading the lines, I could almost feel the crisp, chill air on my own face.

Charles Dickens wrote the tale 169 years ago this Christmas, and it has been credited by some as changing the holiday itself from one of somberness and sobriety as it was observed in his day, to one of festivities and merriment with family and acquaintances as it is still proposed, for the most part.

It may be more difficult than ever to keep the sentiment of the Cratchit family in the face of the seemingly relentless and increasing-in-number Ebenezer Scrooges of our day.

And this is where all the modern-time scribes revert to Dickens to close out the article, essay, or blog, during the Christmas season:

“And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!”

Last gas(p).

The nozzle on the gas pump is supposed to click off when the tank is full. That’s so you don’t just keep pumping until the fuel starts spewing back out at’cha. (That’s also why there is a big black rubber stopper-looking-thing on the nozzle. To protect people from the spewing gasoline, after they kept pumping into a full tank.)

Here’s the thing. Sometimes the super-magic sensor that makes the nozzle shut off doesn’t work exactly right. Sometimes, it snaps off and you are standing there with the suddenly silent nozzle in your hand thinking:

Wow! This big V-8 engine cruiser is getting some great mileage. Only took $18 to fill it up!

The van hasn’t had a working fuel gauge in years. The way to tell the tank is full is to stand at the pump, nozzle in hand, and keeping filling until it stops. Then, during subsequent drives, it is imperative to keep in mind the approximate number of days or miles since that last fillup. In other words – it’s a shot in the dark thing.

Oops.

That $18 fillup the other day, wasn’t. I’m guessing the nozzle just quit because it wanted to play a little game with me, and I fell for it.

The engine died twice on the drive to the shop this morning. Thankfully, the van is also forgiving in that area. It allows you to restart twice and continue an indeterminate distance after each stop, before the final, nonnegotiable gasp for fuel leaves you stranded. It was my good fortune that – right after the van died in the intersection of Kenosha and Elm (I mean, right in the middle of the intersection!) – I was able to restart and pull into the QT.

There, I pumped more than $50 into the tank before the nozzle snapped off the flow.

It wasn’t the super-magic sensor that stopped the pump this time.

It was my wallet.

Frosty pop.

A few ice crystals this morning took me back to my old schooldays. The frozen bits emerged after I opened a Diet Coke bottle that had been positioned too close to the freezer in the mini-fridge.

There was no ice before I unscrewed the cap – there is some sort of physics phenomenon that causes a liquid near freezing to suddenly turn to ice when air is introduced. Maybe you can look it up and explain it to me.

Back when I was a boy there was a soda machine at the Texaco station in McAlester, within walking distance of my house. The machine’s thermostat must have been set low enough that the same phenomenon occurred when my friend Craig and I would walk down for a bottle of pop and pried the cap loose.

It was a dime, back then. That sounds crazy to admit these days, and no doubt is proof of my geezer-hood.

“Yessir,” the old man wheezed. “I recky-member when a cold bottle of sody was only a dime. Yessir – ‘member it like it was yesterday! Hee-hee!”

Back then, on a hot summer evening as the sun was lowering itself behind the little mountain we called “Old Baldy,” drawing a mouthful of that deliciously cold drink was a taste of pure heaven. There was something about the ice crystals that bunched up at the neck of the bottle before they finally slid onto your tongue. There was something about being small enough to be comfortable sitting on the curb like it was a king’s throne and watching the last traces of the day disappear. There was something about having a good friend to enjoy it with, sitting there talking about nothing and everything. Important stuff that was so insignificant as to remember none of it.

But that bottle of pop with its cluster of ice crystals floating on top… That image and those moments are frozen forever in my memory – to be recalled only when that rare soft drink is chilled, just enough.

Cheers!

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