A Merle Foster Christmas
From the novel Merle Foster
Chapter 8
At precisely 2 pm there was a quiet but insistent knock on the outside door to Merle Foster’s workshop. Florence and Merle both looked at each other with anticipation on their faces. They had been at work for a month detailing all the arrangements and gifts so they would be perfect for each child. There would be gifts for those who showed up uninvited. They were expecting friends and relatives to join the festivities. The rather large workshop held a vast assortment of decorations that would both inspire and awe their visitors. They had been listening to the rising excitement outside the door for quite some time as they finished with the last minute decorating in the workshop.
“Shall we let them in?” asked Merle as her smile continued to stretch across her face..
“It might be time,” intoned her sister Florence whose smile matched that of her sister. “We have made them wait for half an hour. If we don’t open it soon I think their excitement will force the door to open. Open the door slowly and then step back.”
Merle walked eagerly to the door and slowly undid the latches knowing that everyone on the other side of the door could hear exactly what she was doing. Finally, with the last latch she opened the door and stepped back as a gust of wind blew the children through the opening. The first couple of children stared at the decorations, their mouths wide open in amazement, their feet not moving them further into the room. Those behind them pushed gently forcing more and more of the children into the room. Once in the room each of them stood with their mouths open, their eyes sparking before they started to bounce from one object to another.
There was a giant Santa Claus in one corner, 15 feet tall. Merle had shone a large light over him that just accentuated his height even more. In another corner was the Santa Claus Christmas float from the Eaton’s Santa Claus parade. The deer were all sparkly in their splendour and there was a huge sack filled with presents. Over on another wall Merle had decorated all her gargoyles with Christmas hats, tinsel and Bowties. Each looked horribly distinguished despite the looks of anguish on their faces. And in the middle of the room stood the largest Christmas tree anyone had ever seen. It filled a good portion of her workshop. Decorating it might have been a challenge if anyone but Merle had set their mind to it.
“Hey,” called out one of the younger boys who was close to the tree, “there is a Christmas decoration that has my face on it!” He stepped closer to examine it more closely and was followed by more members of the group. “And there is one of me. And me! And me!,” squealed a few high pitched voices. “And those glass balls,” called out someone else, “They have our names on them.” With this pronouncement they scattered quickly through the room to examine everything.
Merle gently edged towards Florence. “Is this it?”
Florence without taking her eyes away from observing the enthusiasm in the room answered, “We never know do we? I count 30 so far and the door is closed. Could be that’s it.”
Merle smiled warmly. “I think that is just marvellous.” Just then a cold breeze was felt tingling on her legs. Merle looked quickly to the door just in time to see it close. Sixteen year old Nellie Harmon stood looking at the expressions the children were having round the tree.
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “This is simply amazing!” She looked over towards where Merle and Florence were standing and then started to walk over. “This is one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. There is so much excitement. It is almost better than Christmas morning.”
“But that is the point,” replied Florence. “Most have never seen a Christmas like this!”
“That’s good!” laughed Merle in reply to Nellie. “And you helped put it all together.”
“I know. When I left last night it didn't look like this. It’s just…..” and she trailed off.
“It’s just more amazing with the kids here. When it was just us it was sort of flat looking. But now it is like a greater awareness has overtaken the building. Their eyes, their pointing, the look of wonderment make what we have done come more alive.”
A young child approached Merle. “Miss Merle?”
“Yes Dorothy?”
She pointed before she said anything else. “Is that sack on Santa’s sleigh full of presents?”
“Why yes it is.”
“Are they all for us?”
“Have you been a good little girl this year?
“Oh yes,” replied the small voice gushing with excitement.
Merle had noticed Dorothy’s fingers crossed behind her back. “Have you helped your mom and dad the best you could this year?”
“Oh yes.” came the reply.
“Then yes,” said Merle with a twinkle in her eye. “There are presents in the sack for each of you.”
Dorothy’s eyes lit up. “Oh my! This is better than Christmas is!” she exclaimed.
“This is Christmas,” replied Florence.
“Yes,” Dorothy whispered. “But it’s not like Christmas at my house.” she said quietly before wandering off to look at more of the decorations.
Florence and Nellie looked at Merle. Florence paused for a moment as if to say something and then did. “Have we gone too far?” asked Florence. “Are we getting their expectations up only to have them squashed on Christmas morning at home?”
As Merle thought about her response Nellie spoke up. “I don’t think so, Florence. I know most of these kids. The best thing they could hope for on Christmas morning would be a warm breakfast. Some of the decorations are truly special because they are personal. Some of the gifts are things they will enjoy.”
Merle added, “and some of the things they experience here they will keep with them a lifetime.”
“But that is my point. It is better than their parents could possibly provide. Their parents should be doing a smaller version of this for these kids. Isn’t that their job?” replied a bothered Florence.
Nellie looked at her and smiled. “Some of these families are so downtrodden they can barely see today, nevermind tomorrow.”
Merle looked at Florence and spoke, “Florence, you were the inspiration behind making it so special. These kids need the memories of this. And besides, this is extra. It is not Christmas morning.”
Florence added, “Memories. The one thing that makes life special. Memories.” She stood quietly for a minute. “I need to finish with the food. Nellie, will you help me?”
“Of course,” replied Nellie and they both headed off to take care of this portion of the day.
Merle felt the cool breeze of the door opening behind her and turned to take a look. “Hello Milton,” she called out.
“I see that I am right on time,” replied Milton Cork, The President of Loblaws. “I have brought with me a friend of mine who is a writer for the Toronto Star. Merle, meet Dorothy Bell.”
“I have heard so much about you. It is great to finally meet you,” said Dorothy to Merle as she offered her hand.
“Thank you for being here. It just makes the day more and more interesting.” replied Merle.
“This place looks so amazing. Would you mind if I circulated for a bit?” asked Dorothy.
“Not in the least. Feel free,” replied Merle.
“What are the instruments for?” asked Milton, pointing to the instruments that were dropped haphazardly on the floor.
“The children have brought their own instruments in order to entertain us. They believe it is their gift to us.” replied Merle as she navigated around another one that looked as if it was assembled.
Milton looked over the instruments. “Some of these are homemade.” he observed. ‘And some are too rag-tag to be of much use.’ he thought to himself. “This could be interesting,” he stated.
“It always is,” replied Merle who turned as she noticed Nellie and Florence enter the room carrying some food. She walked over to help them set out a fine display of foods and candies for the children to munch on.
“Is this all for us?” inquired an awed Rosie as she eyed the table carefully.
Merle clapped her hands together. Those who were in far corners of the room walked over to where she stood waiting for her next words.
“Rosie, yes this is for all of you,” replied Merle. “And before we begin I would like to say a few words. You are welcome.” Merle smiled at this and nodded at Florence.
“Before you swarm the table we want you to know that there is plenty of food to go around. When I finish talking, take only what you can eat in the next couple of minutes. You can always come back for more. Don’t pile large amounts on your plate. Be patient and wait your turn. Everyone will get food. The line forms over here,” she said pointing to her right. At once the race was on to be first in line. However there was no pushing and shoving as they knew the rules from the times they spent with Merle and Florence.
Each child filled their plate with a bit of the things they liked. In surveying the scene Florence noticed that most plates were less than half full. “I suppose they will be going back for seconds,” said Florence.
Nellie looked up from her plate and said to Florence, “Maybe but most of them are too excited to eat much. They are eating to be polite.”
Merle stepped away from helping a small child with her plate, “I think they saw some of the other things we have for them and are looking forward to them.”
Dorothy Bell turned towards Florence, “It seems to be getting bigger every year, isn’t it Florence?”
Florence looked up from where she was helping a young child fill their plate. “Last year we had about 15. This year there are at least 30, maybe 40.”
A small child walked up to Merle. “Miss Merle, do we get to see our presents now?”
“Daisy, we have some entertainment first before we get to the presents.”
“Oh darn,” she replied. “But I can wait,” she said as she giggled with excitement.
As everyone approached the end of their meal they eagerly shifted everything from their plates to the garbage bin. While it was sad to see so much food going to waste Florence acknowledged the mood. “There is too much excitement in the room to finish their meals.”
Nellie looked down at her plate. “It would seem so.” she replied.
Merle had a twinkle in her eye. “Let’s follow their lead!” and with that she walked over and emptied her plate too. Soon everyone was following suit and stacking the plates on the table. Nellie and a couple of the older kids started moving food out of sight and soon the place was cleaned up. The smaller kids had resumed their examination of the room.
“Well now,” said Florence, “their appetite may have suffered from the excitement but it certainly hasn’t gone down any.”
“Let’s call them together,” said Merle and with that she gave them a signal to gather near her.
“Friends,” she began, “we are gathered here to celebrate the season but also to celebrate you. You have brought much joy to our lives. As a part of this celebration you have decided to prepare some things to share with us to make this day become more of an appreciation on both sides.” At this a hand popped up. “Yes, William?” asked Merle.
“Can I go first? I have some jokes prepared.”
“And without any further hesitation we shall begin. Yes William, you may go first.”
The small boy sprang from his seat and rushed to the space set aside for the performance. “My ma’am told me these jokes so I wanted to share them.”
“Well then we must hear them,” replied Florence.
“What is the opposite of a coffee?” he asked but before anyone could answer he rushed to the punch line. “A sneezy of course!” with which laughter ensued.
When the laughter died down a small voice spoke up. “You might want to give us time to come up with an answer the next time you ask a question.”
“Yes, Robert,” replied Merle, “but sometimes it is just as good to hear it the way William said it.” With that William beamed.
“I have another one,” he said.
“Go ahead,'' said Merle.
William looked around the room. “A man was in a restaurant. He is given coffee by the waiter who walks away to look after another customer. The man suddenly called out ‘Waiter! Waiter! This coffee tastes like soil.’ The waiter rushed over to the man and replied ‘Yes, sir, it was ground this morning.’”
There were giggles of laughter among the children mixed with perplexing looks as the answer was explained quietly hidden behind hands.
“Well done William,” reflected Merle.
Robert reached around behind him and pulled his guitar from where it sat. It was a sad looking guitar as it was very beat up looking with many scratches and dings in its frame. He plucked each string listening to its tone and adjusted it when necessary to make the string sound in tune. He then began playing a little melody which at once a number of children clapped at and a few even got up and performed a dance.
Immediately after the applause died down John and Gilbert got up.
John said, “I lost my appetite!”
Gilbert quickly replied “I hope no one found it. It wasn’t doing you much good.” Abrupt laughter filled the room.
As soon as they proceeded to their seats Mary walked to the front with confidence.
Mary spoke. “Why were the trousers not allowed to enter the school?” She paused waiting but no one spoke. She giggled as she said “They were suspended.”
As the laughter ensued Helen walked to the front. She looked directly at Merle. “Miss Merle, do you know why I don’t like Rhubarb?”
Merle thought about this for a second and then said, “No I don’t. Why don’t you like rhubarb?
Helen looked scandalised. “I don’t know either. That’s why I asked you.” This broke Merle up into fits of laughter.
As the laughter died down Nellie strode to the front and stood before them. “This is a song I heard a young woman singing at an outdoor concert. Later I heard others singing it at a party I went to with my mother. Here it is for you.” With that she started.
I’m Just Wild About Harry
Words by Noble Sissle and music by Eubie Blake
1921
I'm just wild about Harry
And Harry's wild about me
The heavenly blisses
Of his kisses
Fills me with ecstasy
He's sweet just like chocolate candy
Or like the honey from a bee
Oh, I'm just wild about Harry
And he's just wild about me
Now, I'm just wild about Harry
And Harry's wild about me
The heavenly blisses
Of his kisses
Fills me with ecstasy
Say now, he's sweet just like chocolate candy
Or like the honey from a bee
Oh, I'm just wild about Harry
And he's just wild about,
Cannot do without,
He's just wild about me.
Florence looked quickly at Merle during the song but realised that the audience was enjoying it so she let her concerns go.
Nellie finished with a flourish that would have done Al Jolson proud. With much clapping and a few whistles of support Nellie returned to her seat.
Ruth sat rather quietly with intent focussed on her face. Her friends looked at her during the applause but quietly hushed once it was over. Ruth did not walk to the front when the applause faded. She sat prim and proper and waited quietly before saying, “Did you know that a waffle is a polka dot pancake.” There was mixed laughter among which a small voice called out, “What is a waffle?”
Nellie smiled at Florence and Merle and then said, “Perhaps we can have one another day.”
“Ooh I would like that,” called out Samuel while rubbing his tummy.
Rosy stood up and walked to the front of the crowd looking very shy and awkward. Her head was down and she was swaying from side to side.
“Rosy,” called out Merle. “Is there something you would like to do for us?”
Rosy looked away quickly and said quietly. “Uh huh.” She resumed her swaying with her eyes averted.
Robert picked up his guitar and went over to stand beside her. “Go on,” he said to her. “Tell ‘em what you told me you were going to say.”
Rosy turned a different shade of red. “Miss Merle and Miss Florence,” she began quietly. “You have been so good to me that I would like to sing you a song. Robert and me, we have been practising.” She put her hand up to the side of her mouth. “He’s pretty good,” she said quietly as if Robert wasn’t supposed to hear her.
There was some polite laughter at this that died quickly as Robert began strumming his guitar.
Eventually Rosie faced the crowd and sang.
California, Here I Come
(B. G. Desylva / Joseph Meyer / Al Jolson )
California, here I come
Right back where I started from
Where bowers and flowers bloom in the sun
Each morning at dawning birdies sing and everything
A sun-kissed miss said "Don't be late"
That's why I can hardly wait
So open up those Golden Gate
California, here I come
A sun-kissed miss said "Don't be late"
That's why I can hardly wait
So open up those Golden Gate
California, California, California, here I come
Rosy held the final note while she descended to one knee.
When the applause died down Florence asked, “What a nice song. Where did you learn it?”
Rosy replied, “My mom taught me the song. She learned it from her friend. And Robert here helped me get the words all right.”
Nellie spoke up. “Well Rosie, you sang that song very well. Thank you for sharing it with us.”
“Welcome,” replied a beaming Rosie who went over and sat beside Nellie. She looked up at Nellie for a minute before whispering, “How was I really?”
Nellie quietly leaned over and said, “You were amazing!” Rosy looked like nothing else mattered but praise from Nelly. Her face became angelic as she paid attention to the next performer.
James continued with the new tradition of not getting up and moving to the front of the room before he told his joke. “Miss Florence, do you know the difference between a washroom and a parlour?”
Florence smiled at this before replying, “ No James. No I don’t.”
James replied, hardly containing his laughter. “Then I won’t invite you to my house.” Florence blushed a bit and then broke out laughing. Most of the children were laughing with great gusto.
One of the youngest participants in the Tree, Daisy quietly called out, “What kind of books do skunks read?”
Everyone looked at each other before Robert called out, “Best-smellers!” Once again this had the children rolling on the flower as laughter and tears filled the room.
Sammy rose from his seat and hurried to the front. “This is the latest in dancing that has been going around,” said Sammy before he began a rather good performance of a black bottom dance.
Merle looked around as he finished up. Her surprise at the attention everyone was giving Sammy was equal to how good he appeared at dancing.
“Sammy, could you explain to us how to do it?” asked Merle as she stood up and moved to the front with him. All of a sudden there was a giant rustle as all the children stood at once.
Sammy looked a bit surprised before he said, “It goes like this.”
“First you hop down front then doodle back [doodle means "slide"]
Then you shuffle forward with both feet. Hips go first, then feet. to your left
And then shuffle forward with both feet. Hips go first, then feet to the right
Put your hands on your hips and do the mess around,
Break a leg until you're near the ground [break a leg is a hobbling step which he demonstrated]
Now that's the old black bottom dance
At the end he had his hat rolling down his arm as an added touch.
Everyone eyed him as he performed the dance.
“Now do that again,'' said Florence, “only slower this time.” And with that instruction he repeated it a few times until most of the crowd were able to perform the moves with a great deal more speed than they started out with.
“Well,” stated Merle after a few more tries, “that certainly is a marvellous dance. Thank you for teaching us Sammy.”
(need scene about receiving gifts and getting ready to leave.)
After she had ushered the last of the Christmas revellers out the door Merle stood in front of the gigantic Christmas tree that seemed to fill her workspace. The evening had been an unmitigated success with the children expressing themselves with unencumbered zuberance. They had been so delighted with the personalised Christmas balls and other decorations that she and Florence had spent evenings carefully creating and curating for each of those who they knew were attending. Others who just “dropped in” were given similar treasures, with less personalization.
“Thank you Milton for your generous donations. There would be chatter for weeks about everything they took home,” said Merle as she spied Milton Cork approaching the tree.
Milton laughed. “Some even asked if they could take more for their siblings! You are welcome, Merle. I don’t think I have ever felt so profoundly grateful for the happiness I have experienced tonight. To arrive at such pleasure is amazing. And now that my duty has been done,” he stated, “ I must be leaving.” and with that he exited the building.
Merle glanced round the room taking in all the sights when her eyes fell upon the reporter Milton Cork had brought with him when he arrived at the Christmas Tree. The reporter had been moving about during the afternoon observing and making notes. As Merle and Florence had escorted the last of the children to the door, the reporter made one last trip around Merle’s workshop observing many of the works of art she had in various stages of production. At last, she stood beside Merle looking at the tree.
“That was one amazing event that you hosted,” commented Dorothy.
“I believe it surpassed all of our, and their expectations,” responded Florence. There are things important in life. I believe this is one of them.
The reporter finished recording her information. She took a good look around the room. “What inspired you to do all this for the kids?”
“Every year we see more and more kids who are interested in what we do. Some arrive to help out where they can. Others to learn. And still others are the faces I use when doing my art. So I would have to say their youthful energy pointed us to thank them in a way they would appreciate. We want to move them towards making more discoveries about their lives that are positive.”
“You have personalised gifts for most of them meaning that those who received them are well known to you. Why are children so attracted to your workshop? They obviously enjoy being here very much.” was the next question that Doroty asked.
Merle thought about this for a minute. “First they are truly interested in the things we do here. We encourage their interests. It also doesn’t hurt that we always have some of the types of foods they like that have been donated by my friend Milton Cork among others. Also I think that the idea that there are few people who really talk to you like you are the most important person in the world, who gets you on every level and that you would trust with anything and everything you have, know or want to know is an important factor here. We take what they say seriously. We listen and offer encouragement. What else could anyone want? I like to think that I have an open mind. It allows me to work on my art much the same way that kids have open minds until something forces them shut as they grow older. I believe art is a way of helping kids to see other sides of their personalities and explore life on a different level. They are curious and ask so many questions. They absorb how we do things here and in some way try to apply their learnings to their lives. And besides, it makes them happy to be accepted for who they are. In life adults are too judgemental. Most of these kids prefer the calm we offer them daily.”
“Doesn’t that have an effect on the work that you do? Wouldn't that eat away at your time to work?”
Florence paused, “One would think so, but they are kids. They are truly respectful of what is happening here. While we encourage them we also caution them about some of the dangers they face here. They understand and respect that.”
“Why do you do your Christmas tree for the kids? The music, the dances, the jokes. Every energy was spent not just to entertain you but to make you happy.”
“It is a reciprocal thing,” replied Merle. “We want to do something for them and they in return want to do something special for us. Everyone wins in the end.”
“What did you give the children for gifts? How did you access all the items?” Dorothy asked.
“Well,” started Florence. Each child received a box of candy, an orange, sample bottles of sauces, nuts, quantities of animal biscuits, a doll, or in some cases a piece of clothing, sample packages of powder and toilet accessories for the small girls.”
Merle spoke up, “ All the gifts are from friends. They all believe in the work we do and the connections we make.”
Dorothy replied, “and that is where Justin comes in.”
Florence smiled, “well he and many others decided to support us. But of course they do it quietly.”
“Of course,” replied Dorothy.
Any final words?
There are no restrictions that define what someone can or cannot do except for those imposed on them by their own views. Others can pressure you but cannot force their views upon you. You do have choices. It is one thing to be limited by the views of others but another to choose to follow this path on your own therefore limiting yourself in the process.In the world modern thinkers must move towards self discovery. We encourage that all the way around.
Some people can’t see beyond the basic need to be liked and to be accepted in order to explore their life more deeply. Being said no to, definitely does that. Women and children particularly experience this. I reject it because it restricts me. There are some who object but that is who they are, not who I am. First they are truly interested in the things we do here. We encourage their interests. It also doesn;t hurt that we always have some of the types of foods they like that have been donated by my friend Milton Cork among others. Also I think that the idea that there are few people who really talk to you like you are the most important person in the world, who gets you on every level and that you would trust with anything and everything you have, know or want to know is an important factor here. We take what they say seriously. We listen and offer encouragement. What else could anyone want?
In the beginning I worked to create art, not to get rich. My style became known. People appreciated my work, the simplicity, the honesty, the creativity. Then I did work to get my name known and to create contacts. and this appreciation held me in good stead. Word got around. I still believe in art for art but Florence keeps reminding me that we need money for food and bills and to allow me to purchase materials for other works of art. So we muddle through.”
“Very candid,” observed Dorothy. “Your work is renowned throughout the city. Everywhere we look there is evidence of it. It must make you proud to see it out there.”
Merle smiled. “Yes it does but it also poses an issue. Other than the gargoyles there aren’t pieces out there that I wouldn’t do over given my knowledge now.”
Dorothy was a bit shocked to hear this. “Your work is fantastic. Why would you do them over?”
Merle looked around for a minute. “I think of it as being The Artist. We are constantly trying new things, making changes and looking at items through our experiences. I didn’t have those experiences when I was creating those works of art. Now I do and I see them differently, more critically if you will. At this point in life I could make them better. But that idea doesn’t have to apply to just art. It can apply to everyday life. There are so many things we could do better considering what we know now. Yet instead of being critical we should just see life as growth.”
Dorothy stopped writing and closed her notepad. “Well, I think it is just marvellous what you do and have done for the children. And now I have a story to write.”
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for looking in. Comments should be civil...