By Dennis Lockwood
I’m sitting on a bench at Main Beach on a typical SoCal day. The sun is warm, but the wind is blowing in a cool ocean breeze along with a pounding surf. It makes for a confusing wardrobe day as witnessed by the jogger in shorts and a T-shirt in comparison to the senior citizen bundled up in her overcoat and scarf. One thing for certain, the walking dogs on the promenade could care less.
I’m hoping for some inspiration to write a Christmas story. Maybe a little ditty full of humor and satire that makes people laugh and forget their cares for a while. Or should it be the thoughtful literary essay probing the gap between the haves and have-nots?
Decisions, decisions…what’s a person to do? I pull out my pen to get started when a man walks up to me and asks, “Mind if I sit down?”
“No, please do,” I say, though I’m a little hesitant because there are several open benches nearby. Now, he seems like a normal guy, tall, clean-shaven and well-dressed as confirmed by his Ferragamo shoes. I’d say in his early 60s, but his physique says, “I’ve worked out a lot.”
The first moments feel a little awkward as I wonder if I should say something. Several minutes go by, and I’m thinking about leaving when he turns toward me and points at the houses up on the ridge.
“I used to live up there. I loved this town. It was my home.”
“Oh really? I love this town, too,” I reply, not knowing what else to say.
“Do they still have that big Christmas party downtown every year where they light the tree?”
“Yes, they do. It’s quite a night. The kids love it.”
“My wife and I always loved going. We never missed it, but that was a long time ago. I imagine things have changed a lot since then.”
“Well, some things have. Quite a few businesses have come and gone in the last 10 years and parking keeps getting worse. I’m told only about a quarter of the people in town live here year-round. But you couldn’t tell by the traffic.”
“Are you writing about something? I see your notepad and pen.”
“Trying to. I’m supposed to write a piece about Christmas, but I haven’t come up with anything yet.” He looks at me hard like I’ve struck a nerve with him.
“You should try writing about what it would be like if there were no Christmas.”
“You mean like if it never existed?”
“No, more like if it was taken away from you. Like you weren’t allowed to celebrate it anymore.”
“Oh, you mean like losing your freedom.”
“Yes, exactly. Just think how that would feel. You know one of the reasons for the celebration besides the obvious religious beliefs was to cheer people up during the cold dark winter months when they got easily depressed. People would find a whole new appreciation for the holiday if it was taken away from them.”
“Yeah, I guess the color of coffee cups and the “Happy Holidays” PC stuff wouldn’t mean much if Christmas didn’t exist.”
We both stare out at the ocean thinking about a world where there is no Christmas until I glance over at him and notice his eyes tearing up. We both quickly turn away.
“You can’t imagine how depressing it is when there’s no Christmas. Memories just seem to haunt you.”
“You sound like you’ve experienced this.”
“Yes, I have. For the last 15 years. Ever since I left here.”
“Where have you been? Out of the country?”
“No, Northern California.”
“I don’t understand. Where were you?”
“San Quentin.”
Author of the Writer’s Digest award-winning crime novel “Duality,” Dennis Lockwood writes short stories and music; he lives in north Laguna with his wife Pat.
