Nobody Reads This Page – “Hamglaze Holiday”

 

c.2023 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(12-23)

 

 

Note to Readers: What follows here is a product of my wandering imagination. Yet in such a flight of fantasy, there is more truth than fiction...

 

I stopped at the Get Go in Chardon on impulse, after a day of running errands around town. Primary on my to-do list was checking the postal mailbox where I still maintain a space leftover from days with the Geauga County Maple Leaf. I have often thought about discontinuing the service, as having this extra address isn’t really necessary, in modern times. But the information has been included in all of my published books, around 34 to date. I also have it listed on three internet blogs, and on social media sites such as Facebook, and Twitter which Elon Musk demands that we now call ‘X.’ So deleting the postal link would require some effort.

 

Handling chores used to be a task accomplished by investing time and endurance, alone. Something I did out of need, but not with much forethought. In retirement however, getting around physically requires more attention to details. I can’t walk without the aid of two canes for support, and every in-and-out of my motor vehicle demands that I struggle a bit. Arthritis and disability have taken their toll since the days when I used to run around retail establishments as a salaried manager, or to far-flung locations as a journalist, chasing stories.

 

For the holiday season, I suspended my apprehension over these hindrances, and plowed ahead with determination. But by the time I had finished checking off a dozen items that needed attention, my legs were shot. I decided that a cup of coffee at the Giant Eagle convenience depot would allow me to rest and revive my stamina.

 

Get Go got my attention.

 

Because it had been so long since I visited, the arrangement of food and beverage stations inside was completely unfamiliar. The new-age java dispensers made my eyes go crossed. They were festooned with all sorts of buttons, and a display screen that offered a considerable menu of options. As an oldster-in-waiting, I just wanted to pour a cup of grounds, and be done. But a prevalence of dazzling technology made this simple desire nearly impossible to accomplish. I fumed and fretted and finally figured out the access routine.

 

The cup was hot enough to curl my fingers. I paid at the registers, then headed for a table by the front windows. As I was maneuvering a chair into its proper position for a safe landing, my ears buzzed with the intensity of a familiar voice. This made me flinch and spill the brown liquid everywhere.

 

“RODNEY! IT IS SO GOOD TO SEE YOU HERE TODAY! WHAT A HAPPY COINCIDENCE! MAY WE SIT TOGETHER?”

 

I mopped up my mess with a wad of napkins. At a nearby station was my erstwhile cohort from days with the local the newspaper, Carrie Hamglaze. She had dressed in a red overcoat and festive headgear meant to emulate the style of Santa Claus. A cup of Irish tea sat by her purse, wafting steam.

 

I plopped in place, and squinted to be sure my vision hadn’t played some sort of trick.

 

“My goodness, it’s been a long time. I never come into the city much anymore. Did you realize I’ve been out in the hinterland for over 21 years?”

 

She nodded and stirred her toasty drink.

 

“I’ve been reading your new work on the computer. Congratulations for your persistence with the blog at Blogspot.com, my friend! It reminds me a lot of your older writing, when we were pen-pals of a sort, both churning out missives for the good people of this county! I often hear how much our presence is missed by readers everywhere. They flag me down at pancake breakfasts and spaghetti dinners and clambakes all around the area!”

 

Her comment made me turn red with slight embarrassment.

 

“Really? People remember us like that? I had figured we were a forgotten tribe, a part of yesterday long lost with the old media. People get everything on their smartphones now. Flipping through pages of newsprint is an anachronism for Luddites and oddballs...”

 

Carrie huffed at my assessment. She nearly spat out her tea.

 

“A FALSEHOOD REPEATED BY FOOLS! YOU SHOULD TAKE HEART IN THE SPIRIT OF OUR CRAFT, RODNEY! WE ARE KEEPERS OF THE FLAME. LIKE SCHOLARS INTERPRETING THE ANCIENT SCROLLS! OUR SCRIBBLING STILL HAS WORTH! DON’T LET YOURSELF BE JUDGED SO HARSHLY! THERE IS MERIT IN WHAT WE DO!”

 

My eyes were burning. The taste of coffee revitalized my body, however. I had needed a spurt of caffeine.

 

“I won’t argue. Though it often seems we are handling the advancements of society on a horse-and-buggy level. I feel Amish sometimes...”

 

My compadre folded her hands as if petitioning the Lord in prayer.

 

“A wonderfully devout group of people, do not mock their faith! I would like to be so strong in my beliefs. You and I are cut from the same cloth. Our diligence is reflected in everything we compose! We care and thrive through keeping old traditions alive!”

 

I smiled and bowed my head after she finished.

 

“Once again, I won’t argue. What you say makes plenty of sense from where I sit. But what about the kids growing to maturity with video games and wireless devices everywhere? They want speed, they want instant gratification. Their attention span is a short-lived quantity. Blink twice, and you’ve missed the audience. They’ve already moved on, by scrolling and web surfing...”

 

Carrie chewed her lip and frowned. Her Christmas cap wilted in the heat of a large vent, above our table.

 

“I will quote a Bible scripture to ease your mood. ‘And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.’ Do you remember that verse, Rodney? It says more than anything I could offer. Hear the truth and believe!”

 

I had been living alone in Thompson for too long. My cheeks were bright with crimson.

 

“You sound like my maternal grandmother. Her bloodline stretched back to the Emerald Isle, I was told. An incredible woman, who got me started on writing poetry...”

 

My Platonic companion bubbled with enthusiasm. She stood up suddenly and buttoned her coat.

 

“GOD BLESS THE MEMORY OF YOUR GRANDMA! AND GOD BLESS YOU, MY FRIEND! MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR! I HOPE WE SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN, VERY SOON!”

 

A playful burst of snow teased through the front doorway, as she exited. I was left sitting by myself, with a half-cup of cold brew. Confusion made me shiver and rub my face. Had I truly encountered the Grande Dame of Geauga just now, or merely imagined it happening as I stared into space? I could not be certain.

 

Next to my cup, a green sprig of holly fluttered and fell. The sight made me jump backward, and nearly topple from the metal chair. An aroma of Irish tea lingered in my nostrils.

 

“God bless you also, Carrie! Have a cool Yule, wherever you are!”