The Poosey Digest: Too taken up with all the trimmings

Greetings from the Ridge.

Sometimes the best ideas can come from the tiniest minds.

Herb Crump, the man who fooled me into marriage some six decades ago, is not anyone’s vision of the Spirit of Christmas. It’s all I can do to get him to wear clean socks to the church cantata. But.once in a great while he’ll be visited by a noble vision. Perhaps it’s just the decreasing amount of oxygen that makes it to his brain, but at Christmas I give him the benefit of doubt and assume that God works even the weakest of minds.

For reasons known only to God and Herb, the old codger decided to build a nativity scene for our front yard this year. Herb’s artistic skills rank right up there with his ability to tap dance, but I encouraged this project, figuring it would at least keep him out from under my feet while I prepared for Christmas.

He went to the lumber yard and bought several sheets of plywood then he turned to me for advice.

"Okay Freida, I need one Joseph, one Mary, a cradle and baby, three wisemen, some shepherds and animals, right?"

"And all these years I thought you’d been sleeping through the Christmas Eve services! Hang on, lover. I’ll look it up."

A few clicks of Google and I shouted out to the garage. "It says we don’t know how many wisemen, Herb. Some guy wrote a book last month saying there were probably 12!"

"I ain’t got that much plywood!"

"Never mind. According to this the baby Jesus was probably three years old by the time they got there."

"That’s wrong! Wal-Mart’s got a picture of them right there when he was born!"

"Then do a Sam Walton Christmas! I don’t care! Just don’t advertise any after-Christmas specials on the manger."

"How big you reckon the cradle was?"

"According to what I’ve read, there wasn’t any cradle. It was a manger, Herb! A place where they fed the animals. Most accounts say that the stable was probably carved into a hillside and the manger was dug out of the side of the hill."

"How am I supposed to show that in plywood?"

"Dig a hole in the front yard. I don’t care. Herb, it’s the thought that counts."

"Thought" not being in Herb’s bag of mental tools, he stumbled onward.

"How many shepherds you reckon?"

"Three’s a good number."

"I don’t have that much plywood."

"Then two."

"Still ain’t got enough."

"Make it one short shepherd."

"I only have a a half a piece left!"

"Then tell the shepherds to go have coffee. Make it a sheep."

"A sheep wandered in without the shepherds?"

"He had a GPS. Herb, whatever you do will be just fine."

"My cow’s lookin’ really good! You oughta see it!"

"Who was riding a cow into Bethlehem that night? This was the stable of an Inn, Herb."

"They always show a cow in these things."

"Is she big enough you can turn her into a shepherd?"

"No! It’s the best-looking thing I’ve made. Nobody’s touchin’ my cow!"

Two hours later and he walked into the kitchen covered with sawdust and a hang-dog look on his face. "What’s the matter, Herb?"

"I got so excited makin’ everything surrounding the baby that I ran out of plywood before I got to Jesus. I got too taken up with all the trimmings."

I looked at Herb, Herb looked at me, and the moral of the morning’s story hit us both splat in the face. "I’ve got an old doll upstairs, Herb. It’ll make a real nice centerpiece."

Herb smiled. "You reckon the baby Jesus won’t mind short shepherds?"

"Not as long as we keep him in the middle of things."

From our house to yours, the merriest of Christmases from Freida and Herb.