Talking, laughing and storytelling – that's good feeling

Once upon a time I had a car wreck.

This tale is how the car wreck led to my best Christmas ever.

It was a stupid car wreck, just me, taking an Appalachian mountain road too fast, flying through the air and landing in a creek.

After the wreck, well, I had no car. With no car I lost my travelin' salesman job and after I lost my job I lost my place at a rooming house.

And with me living paycheck to paycheck, well, I was just "S.O.L.," which in a family friendly newspaper stands for "so outta luck."

I called home.

"Hey Dad. I wrecked my car, lost my job and I have to be out of my room I'm renting by tomorrow. I was wondering if I can move home for a few months until I can get on my feet," I said.

"No, son," Dad said.

I was kind of surprised at how fast he responded.

"But..." I stuttered.

"You can stay here for the weekend but Monday you need to connect with a friend or someone and get on your feet that way. One day you'll look back on this and laugh," he said.

The coincidental thing that happened that weekend at Mom and Dad's house was my aunt and uncle from Ohio dropped in and my uncle had snagged a newspaper from upstate.

"Check this out, boy. There's a job right up your alley," my uncle said as he tapped the classifieds, pointing.

It was a want ad for a job in radio.

"Lord have mercy. I know this guy, the guy doing the hiring," I exclaimed.

Within an hour I had a brand new job starting Monday.

A pal gave me a lift to the town and in short order found a room for rent. Actually, it was the whole second story of a ramshackle old house for the princely sum of $200 a month.

Thing was, the place had no heat.

Oh, there was SOME heat. The landlord provided a kerosene heater and all the kerosene I could use from a tank on the side of the house.

No stove, no fridge but I had a hot plate to cook on.

The place wasn't far from work so I walked to and from the job every work day.

Christmas was coming and I was thinking I was going to have another meal like Thanksgiving, everything fixed on my hot plate ... but a phone call came.

My Mom and Dad were coming to visit me for Christmas.

I was so happy.

Christmas Day came and they picked me up and took me to a nice restaurant.

I had a nice steak and stuff for dinner, quite a change from my steady diet of white bread with margarine or peanut butter, honey and ramen noodles.

We laughed, we talked.

Mom was always a lively conversationalist, but Dad was talking, laughing and storytelling like I hadn't seen him do in many a year.

It was a good feeling all around.

When they took me back to my place Dad opened the trunk of his car.

"We brought some presents for you, son," Dad said.

We went into my groovy pad.

I fired up the kerosene heater and I opened presents.

Wonderful new clothes were inside -- pants and shirts.

My Dad handed me an envelope.

A $100 bill was inside.

"Merry Christmas, son," my Dad said.

We all hugged and it was time for Mom and Dad to go.

That was the last Christmas I had with my Mom and Dad together.

The following February, Dad started falling for no particular reason.

A physical revealed he had a growing brain tumor.

By August that year, Dad had "gone on to Glory" as I euphemistically say.

I have to say I've had many wonderful Christmases in my time, with The Lady of The House. She makes them special.

And Christmases with my kids when they were itty-bitty, they were something.

But that last Christmas with my Mom and Dad, that's in a special category all its own.