350. Gifts

“You need to hurry up,” I said,” I haven’t got all day.”

“Avoir de la patience.” I heard a soft buzzing. “Haben Sie bitte etwas mehr Geduld.” The buzzing again. “Be patient, please.”

“I’m patient. And please adjust your translator. People are staring.”

“Leave my GUT out of this. What’s your hurry?”

“I’ve things to do.”

“Things more important than helping me find a present for your wife?”

It’s true. I had taken C.W. to the largest shopping mall in our vicinity so he could do his holiday shopping. So far, we had been there an hour with nothing to show for our time. He had at least shaped himself well for the occasion. It was his classic teenage nerd shape, Timmie Joe, the math major. Remember those pocket protectors the engineering students used to wear in college? Well, he had even found one of those somewhere. Anyway …

“But you go out of your way to aggravate her. Now you’re buying her a present?”

“She forgives me,” he said. “Why can’t you?”

“Because I remember where you got the money to buy her a gift.”

“You weren’t using that guitar.”

“That’s not the point. It was an American-made Stratocaster.” But there was no use arguing. "She likes books,” I said.

“Oh fiddley dee,” he said, then stopped. “Look. There’s a pet store. I know she is fond of puppies.” He started toward it.

I grabbed his arm. “Best not,” I said. “She thinks breeding animals for sale is obscene when so many wander the highways, abandoned.”

“So maybe,” he said, his eyes widening, “we could drive around and look.”

“She has enough puppies,” I said.

“Oh.”

“And besides,” I said, returning to the topic of gift-buying. I thought you were afraid of her.”

“She’s a softie when you get to know her,” he said. “She even taught me to do embroidery.”

“That will describe our culture to a fine point back on Falloonia.”

He turned and looked at me. “Are you making a joke?”

“Shop,” I said.

He thought. “What’s the best present you ever bought her? Pearls, I’ll bet.”

“Nope.”

“Rubies?”

“Nope.”

“Diamonds?’

“Nope.”

“I give up. What then?”

“Remember when you studied our technical history?”

“Oh yes.” He was growing excited now.

“Remember the part about when they came out with battery-powered hand tools?”

A look of confusion spread over his face like the shadow of a storm cloud covering the ground. “You bought her one?”

“A battery-powered hand drill.”

“Really? Did she like it?”

“She loved it. Named it “Hole Honey’ and used it until recently.”

“Did it wear out?”

“It was one of the things you sold in order to buy your bicycle, remember?”

He thought. “No, I don't,” he said. “But look,” he said running to a window display of scanty, sexy, minimal, ladies’ intimate-wear. “She’ll like this for sure.” He stared, then turned to me and yelled, “Do they really grow that big?”

 

Seesh, what a grouch.
She would have loved it. - C.W.

“Come on,” I said. “People are watching.”

“You can see right through that one,” he said, pointing. He must have overloaded his Galactic Universal Translator again. “Choi Oi,” he said.

I lingered for a moment to look, just for curiosity’s sake, mind you. Then I began pulling him away.

He pulled his arm back and stared. “But look,” he said, pointing again. “See that one? Oh boy, it even has access to her …”

“Gift card,” I said as I grabbed his arm and pulled him through the crowd that had gathered. “Cookbooks, kitchen aides, pottery, DVD’s, pet toys.”

“Boy,” he said, twisting his arm from my grasp and looking back one last time. “You sure don’t have the holiday spirit.”

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Hey Everybody, it's your favorite Alien with a thought of the day.

I read where, in a nearby city, the major issue
this season  concerns the amount of money
spent on the public Christmas tree. - C.W.

Yesterday, I went with Big Dope down to the local office of the American Red Cross. The purpose of the trip was to have a blood sample drawn prior to his next apheresis donation, just to pre-check his platelet level. While they were getting him “into the system,” (whatever that means) I overheard a staff member ask, “Is he a cancer victim?”

The other said, “No, he’s a donor.”

Now folks, that sort of puts this gift-giving season of yours into perspective, doesn’t it

151. Memories

It is usually C.W. at his most annoying. Of course I mean his assuming the shape of a question-a-second pre-teenager. This time, though, I decided it might be a learning experience.

He showed up in his shorts, flip-flops, and tee-shirt ready, as he said, “To party-hearty and enjoy the Memorial Day fireworks.”

I waited until he had finished his litany of expected festivities. “Do you think that is what Memorial Day is for?”

“Well yeah,” he said. Then he cocked his head. “Ain’t it?”

“No,” I said. “It should be a day of somber reflection.”

“A what?”

“A day that we remember those who died after they answered their country’s call for military service during times of war.”

“Oh, gross,” he said.

“Go change clothes,” I said. “We’re taking a trip.”

An hour later we were at our city’s military cemetery on the east side of town. It was quiet. Most folks were attending a large festival nearby. A few solitary souls were wandering the grounds. Some stood quietly in front of one of the white tombstones. A small group was placing flags on each one. It was a peaceful, lonely place.

“Lookit,” C.W. said, pointing to a man who was kneeling before one of the graves. Before I could stop him, he had raced over and stood beside the man, a well-dressed figure appearing to be well into his eighties.

Miraculously, C.W. took this opportunity to show both restraint and respect. He stood silently until the man looked up in greeting.

“Is this someone you knew?”

The man nodded. “We served together on the old Nevada.”

“What’s an Old Nevada?”

“It was a battleship.”

“He died?”

“In 1941.”

“How old was he?”

“He had just turned eighteen. We both had.”

“How did it happen?”

“The ship came under attack and we were on our way to our battle stations when a bomb hit near us.”

“He died there?”

“No, he was the only one that wasn’t hurt.”

C.W. looked confused.

“He carried the rest of us to a safe location, one by one.”

“And then?”

“After he saw that I was safe, he checked the group and saw that one of us was still missing.”

“And?”

“When he went back that time, he never returned.” The man lowered his head and sobbed.

I was watching, proud of C.W. who waited until the man had regained his composure.

“I’m so sorry,” C.W. said. “It must have been hard on you to lose a shipmate.”

The man looked up at him through reddened eyes. “A shipmate?”

“Yes sir. A shipmate.”

“A shipmate yes. A hero, yes. But more. He was my sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening, a gentle breeze across my cheek on a tropical evening, and the beauty of the ocean’s roll on a following sea. I have missed him every day for over 71 years. I would have gladly given all those years for one more touch of his soft hand.” He began to cry again.

“Gee,” C.W. said. “Did he win a medal?”

Seems to me that war is crappy enough
without getting the bigots involved. - C.W.

“No,” the man said quietly. “Before the attack, we were both scheduled to be cashiered from the navy. His name was hardly ever mentioned afterwards. They wouldn’t have buried him here except that his family had some influence.”

“That don’t hardly seem fair.”

“The world is not fair, my son,” the man said as he stood. “And war even less so. Now if you will excuse me, I have a plane to catch.” He walked away on unsteady legs to where a taxi waited.

As C.W.came to where I stood, I couldn’t help asking, “Did you learn anything?”

“Shut up,” he said, and I swear he had tears in his eyes.

74. Peace

Hello Earthlings! I come in peace.

I’ve been wanting to use that line for some time and finally Big Dope has allowed me the freedom of my own column. Not exactly allowed, perhaps, since he knows nothing about it but when he wakes up and sees it published, I’m sure he will approve.

He will, won’t he?

We’ll see. In the meantime, permit me to offer my observations on this most interesting time of the year for you folks in my assigned territory.

This season, which began as an observance of the assumed birth date of your religious figure, Jesus of Nazareth, can create opposing motivations. Primarily though, it opens a window into the “better angels of your nature.”

For example, it highlights your wonderful talent for inclusion. Taking a rather obscure Jewish holiday, Hanukkah, and making it, too, a time of generosity, gathered another large segment of your population into this─if I may be permitted what Big Dope calls a “metaphor”─great tent of good will that seems to cover your country this time each year.

By now, practically any belief cohort in your country has a reason to join in the spirit of the holidays.

But allow me to return to the admirable aspects. The generosity, oh, the generosity. I read about folks anonymously dropping large bills into the Salvation Army kettles. I see toys being gathered for distribution as presents to children who otherwise might have only hoped for a small bag of candy or nuts, or maybe a needed piece of clothing. I see people who scarcely know one another, and who would not even nod in passing at other times, sincerely wishing each other good will.

You are a remarkable species. I continue to marvel at the words of the central figure in all this celebration.

“Give all your money to the poor.”

“Blessed are the peacemakers.”

“Judge not lest you be judged as well.”

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

“If you have done this to the least of these my brothers, so also have you done it to me.”

“Don’t become divorced.”

Trust me, no more noble
 thoughts exist in the universe. - C.W.

Oops. Well, he did seem to evidence a habit of drifting from preaching into meddling, as they say. The point is, these seem to be great words to live by all year ‘round, and I have dutifully reported them to the Folloonian Elders as forming one of your species’ moral building blocks. They were impressed.

So what might we all learn from this season that is, as far as I know, unique in the galaxy? As I follow Big Dope around in his professional work, I hear him tell communities to “Build on your assets.” Good advice.

So, I leave you with the hopes that you will expand upon this most wonderful season of good-spirit and make your planet an enviable example of the use of intelligence for the betterment of all creatures.