The sound of the bell was the first harbinger of The Real Christmas in 2007 — not all those premature decorations at Thanksgiving which seem to default the official start of the holiday.
To a passerby, there was a distinct pitch to the holiday bell-ringer, even a full 21 days out. Enough so that I felt the need to dig deep into my pockets for a dollar.
This was the week of a trip to New York for the Heisman Trophy presentation. Having just come from the bank and carrying more cash than usual, I was careful to bring the right denominations for the New York taxis.
So there at the shopping center, I reached in my money clip and dug out the single, thought for a minute about dropping $2 in the kettle, but decided we still had three weeks before Christmas and there would other be holiday bell-ringers to consider.
I stuck the wad of cash back in my pocket and walked to the parking lot, but upon arriving at my car, had to reach back in for my keys. When I pulled them out, the wad of cash came with them, now loose from the money clip, and fell to the asphalt.
In that very moment, a gust of wind swirled by and several bills danced across the asphalt, one — or perhaps more –– of them disappearing under the car.
In a moment of panic, I had visions of that money being caught up by the wind and scattered over the shopping center parking, like manna from heaven to unsuspecting shoppers. How would I identify it and claim it as mine?
“Excuse me sir, but did you see a $100 bill blowing by you?” Now how would that be received by a guy who just figured this was his lucky day?
The first order of business was to reach down for the bills that stuck together and were not yet airborne, which I did, wadding them up in my fist. Over there was a $10. But how many of the big bills blew away? To the south a few paces I spotted a $100 bill and promptly scooped it up. Then I went back to the car to count it when I heard a woman’s voice.
“Sir, did you lose something?” asked a woman in a van with her young daughter, whose name I would later learn was Savannah.
“Yes, I think I dropped some of my money.”
Getting out of her car, she began to peer under those parked automobiles around her, soliciting the help of her daughter.
“Do you think you’ve got it all?” she asked.
At that very moment I was able to count it out on the front seat and, realizing that it was intact, wondered if it was God’s way of telling me I should have put more than $1 in the holiday kettle. That piquing of generosity suggested I might repay the woman’s kindness.
“Here,” I said, handing her a $10 bill “let me buy you and your daughter a soft drink or a sandwich.”
She immediately put up the palm of her hand, grabbed her daughter with the other and said, “Oh, no, no, no, no!” as she backed away.
Had I offended this stranger?
Once she was back in her van, I waved and mimed thanks again. She stuck out her head out of her window and said, “I hope you didn’t think I was being rude. This is just the kind of thing I have always tried to teach my daughter.”
Not at all, I told her. Then I felt the need to tell her I had an affinity for her daughter’s name, Savannah, because I was using it for a character in my novel which may never get finished, but will always be one of my favorite names. And I congratulated her for teaching her children about the importance of core values, about doing the right thing.
The blonde hair of Savannah glistened in the sunlight as they drove away, with their little Maltese dog in the front seat, and this chance encounter had provided me with a sense of optimism about life. One day this young girl will realize that she was fortunate to have a mother with so much wisdom at a young age.
This was my first really meaningful Christmas gift of the season, and it came wrapped in a life lesson: We can either let go of valuable things, sharing them with others, or the wind can come along and blow them away. If your motivation is proper, however, there may well be an angel there to assist you in need.
Do you have a story to share about a special gift or remembrance that you’d like to share?
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
BUDDY MARTIN