Unforgettable Christmas

Editor’s note: For over 20 years this newspaper published perspectives on life written by Ken Bradbury, who penned columns under the pseudonym Freida Marie Crump. Ken’s characters were made up, living in the mythical community of Poosey. But the messages he shared were so realistic you’d swear you were reading about folks you know — because, in matters of the heart, you do. Ken died in 2018, a casualty of cancer. This Christmas column is alive today as much as when first published in December, 2010.
by Freida Marie Crump
Greetings from Poosey.
Two years ago… right here in Poosey… was a Christmas we’ll not forget.
The Williams family was in the midst of one of those where-are-we-going-tonight weeks and the group’s schedules had become so jammed up that they found themselves with both the annual church Christmas program and Tom’s family gathering on the same weekend. We can do it, thought Marian. We’ll do the church thing then hurry home for a late supper. That way Tom’s folks from Kanas City only have to make one trip to Poosey.
Ah, the best laid plans…
Their 6-year-old Jacob was playing the shepherd in the nativity scene “…the head shepherd,” according to Jacob, and as soon as the final Silent Night wafted around the sanctuary the family was out the door and headed toward their family celebration.
Marian said later that the house was so full of people, presents, and pot roast that it was a full half hour before Tom thought to look around and say, “Where’s Jacob?”
“You didn’t bring him?”
“I thought he was riding home with you. I came with my folks.”
“Oh, my Lord!”
Poosey is a pretty safe place to raise kids, but the Williams clan live several miles from the church, it was dark, and we’d been blessed with eight hours of snow. Lots of snow… no Jacob. A Ford Explorer tore out of the Williams driveway in search of their missing shepherd.
Jacob said that he stood in front of the church for as long as his sandaled toes could stand it. Then decided there was nothing to do but start walking home …in the dark …snow nearly to his knees.
It would have been a yuletide comedy of errors had not everyone been so desperate to find Jacob. Just as his dad was roaring down the blacktop, Jacob had taken a shortcut down a fence row. When his dad frantically tried a gravel road, Jacob’s frigid little constitution had persuaded him to step behind Mrs. Locke’s bushes to take care of some necessary business. The long and short of it: the family was getting scared and Jacob was getting cold.
So cold in fact, that he stepped into the only warm place open late at night on a Poosey Christmas Eve. Word has it that every jaw in the tavern dropped when a very wet and very cold little barefoot shepherd boy stepped onto the Bud Lite floor mat. “We were pretty well along,” said Newt, the bar owner. “Lots of the folks had made noises about getting along home for Christmas night but most of `em had been there all evening. Then the little kid came in wearing the bathrobe and that towel on his head. I said, `You lost, son?’ The kid just peeked up at me from his wet headscarf and said, `I don’t know. But I’m really cold.'”
Poosey is a small community and it didn’t take long to identify young Jacob as a part of the Williams family. Although there were several offers to take him home, Newt told them to keep their seats. None of them were in any condition to drive themselves home, much less endanger the life of a little kid. He tried calling the boy’s house but by that time the entire Williams congregation was combing the area driving vehicles and on foot, calling out Jacob’s name.
“Shoot, it’s only a mile away, I’ll walk you home. Heck, I’ll carry you home!” said Frank Mills to the little guy. “You ain’t carryin’ nobody!” said Newt. “I’ll walk him home!” Before Newt could take off his apron and step out from behind the counter he’d been joined by a chorus of “Me too!” and “I’ll go with you!” and “Heck, I need to walk this off anyway before I get home!”
The tipsy escorts stumbled out of the bar and into the night air. No one remembered afterward whose idea it was to start singing Christmas carols. But by the time the Williams family had given up and dashed back home to call the sheriff, they were greeted by a front yard full of swaying carolers proclaiming “Tidings of com-fort and joy… com-fort and joy… oh-oh tidings of comfort and joy!”
Jacob said that after the ordeal he was treated like a king for the rest of the Christmas season. At least for this one tiny shepherd, it was the best Christmas he ever had …with new friends to boot.
You ever ‘round Poosey, stop by. We may not answer the door, but you’ll enjoy the trip.