"Father Christmas" - 3

--------------- Forwarded Message ---------------



From: 	Lincoln Rd. McHenry, IL, 71222,645

To: 	FetterNet

Date: 	Fri, Nov 12, 1993, 17:17



RE: 	"Father Christmas" - 3



        The last window of the advent calender was flung wide open,

"Christmas Eve, come on in!". We were all confident that mom and dad had in

fact gotten us that shiny sleek Silver Bullet -- Sear's Best family train

set, page 366 of the 1959 Christmas catalogue, jumbo size edition. Today we

finally had some proof. Dad was in the basement "assembling" something. We

could tell by the clanging around, and just the fact that he was in the

basement with orders for us to STAY OUT! Little did we know that the

"assembling" wasn't going so well. First off, most of those little trees and

scenary were in various stages of disrepair. The water tower was missing a

leg. That "bonus box" of extra track was a differant gauge than our two

locomotives. Worst of all the locomotives weren't "locomoting". PANIC TIME!



        Roger and I were sitting in the living room taking in the "light

show"  RED (click)... YELLOW (click)... BLUE (click). Dennis and Jeff were

in the dining room attempting to plot the exact spot where the Three

Kings should be on their trek from our kitchen to the creche, gently nestled

against the color wheel. Possessing no working knowledge of either a

calendar or a yardstick the whole process rested on their "dead reckoning"

instincts. Kent had just come in from visiting the Smiths. All of our

noses started picking up this burning smell. It wasn't mom burning cookies

(we were familiar with that smell. We didn't call her "Betty Croaker" for

nothing). No, this was a new smell... this smelled like a small motor

burning... like a train transformer burning... a train transformer!



        Dad came rushing upstairs... grabbed the yellow pages... grabbed

the phone... stretched the phone cord into his bedroom... slammed the

door! Mom looked at us -- STAY OUT OF THE BASEMENT, then she flew into the

bedroom. We later found out that the poor guy was actually calling around to

Hobby Shops asking if any of them made -- House Calls on Christmas Eve? 

"You want, What? When? Hah, hah, hah! Click!" As mad as my mom was at him

for going with that used train deal, how could you not love a guy who

attempted to get a "house call repairman" on Christmas Eve.



        They assessed their dilemma -- Christmas would just go on like

regular. They would get the train fixed as soon as possible. The Gerdes

Christmas Eve tradition was -- Dad would pile all the kids into the car and

take off for a drive around town to take in the Christmas lights and

decorations. While we were gone, Santa would visit our house and pack in our

presents. This year we took special note of the other families, who had also

invested in the future by going aluminum. Right before we headed for home

we always stopped at the convent for our annual visit with the nuns. Call it

a "habit" of ours. Some of us used this as a major "suck up opportunity"

with our once and future teachers, and some of us tried to blend into the

background. We were a diverse group. But we all agreed, after dad shows us

off and we butcher a carol or two, let's get out of here and head for home.

We were dying to get a real live glimpse of -- The Silver Bullet, racing

around our basement!



                End of "Father Christmas" --- Part 3