Christmas Spirit

Christmas Poems
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A Visit from St. Nicholas
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Nutcracker Suite
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It was hard work lifting piles of clumpy snow and tossing them to the side, but Port kept at it. The driveway was longer than he expected, and his original 30-60 minute estimate was now entering its second hour. Still, Port was making progress, and he was thankful that there were no crosswinds to blow his handiwork back onto the driveway.

"Hey kid?"

"Yeah?"

"Anybody steal my car yet?"

"No sir, and I’ve been keeping a good eye on it."

"Great," Port smiled, knowing that nobody would ever steal the rusty car Brother Aloysius gave him as a graduation present. He never asked Brother Al how he came into possession of a car - especially since Brother Al was legally blind and couldn’t drive - but someone said Brother Al once helped a used car salesman remain sober for three years, and eventually got the man’s life back on track. Sure the car broke down and parts for a Volkswagen were hard to find, but for Port, that car was a gift that could never be repaid.

As Port scooped up each mound of snow, he tossed it to the side of the driveway. "This is good packing snow," he said to himself.

"Packing snow?"

"Yeah. You could build a snowman or something with this stuff."

The boy looked confused.

"What’s wrong?"

"Well..." the boy stammered, "I never built a snowman before."

Port tossed a load of snow aside and stuck the shovel blade into the cold ground. "You’re kidding, right?"

"No," said the boy. "We used to live down in Galveston. It never snowed there. Then one day my mommy said her and daddy weren’t going to live together any more, and that we were going to move to New York."

"When was this?"

"Last year," the boy said, holding back the oncoming tears.

"So you’ve never even experienced snow before?"

The boy shook his head.

Port thought for a moment. No wonder the kid couldn’t shovel the driveway - he never had to do it before. It was still early afternoon - he could spend another hour with the kid and still have time to work on his thesis. "Hey kid."

"Yeah?"

"When I was in your garage looking for the shovel - I think I saw a couple of old pails. You want to get them while I watch the car?"

"Why?"

"We’re going to build a snowman - New York style."

"Really?" the boy exclaimed, already scurrying toward the garage.

"I’ve got the pails, mister. What do I do with them?"

"Put them over there," Port said, pointing to the front yard. "Now take as much snow as you can, and put it in the pail. Pack it in deep."

The boy dropped to his knees, grabbing clumps of snow with his knitted mittens. "Like this, mister?"

"A lot more than that."

While Port continued shoveling the driveway, the boy filled both buckets with snow.

"What now?"

"Okay," said Port, "Now you have to push all the snow deep in the pail - it looks like it’s full, but if you press down on it, you’ll be able to pack more snow inside."

The boy did as was told, and then placed more snow in the mitten-shaped snow craters.

"Okay - did you pack it down?"

"Yes sir."

Port put down his shovel and walked over to the boy. "Turn this pail over and put it here," he said, pointing to a spot on the ground.

As the boy placed the snow-filled bucket upside-down on the ground, Port tapped its bottom. "Now lift the pail up."

The boy did so - only to see a packed column of snow where the bucket used to be. "Wow - it’s like building a sand castle."

"You got it, kid. You ever build those things in Galveston?"

"Yeah," the boy said, turning over the second bucket and creating another snow brick near the first. "My daddy and me used to build lots of sand castles along the shore."

"That’s nice," Port said, taking one of the buckets over to a snowbank and scooping the white ice straight from the ground. He thought again about the orphanage, and how he and the other kids built snow forts in the back garden, making snow bricks from tin cans and plastic bowls.

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