n
Christmas Greetings
Editor’s Note: Storytelling by Enterprise readers is one of our favorite holiday traditions. So grab a cup of hot cocoa and snuggle
under a warm blanket to enjoy poems, memoirs and short fiction by your friends and neighbors. There are tales to make you feel grateful, to remember and to be hopeful. Thank you to our contributors!
Lily’s Christmas present stabilized her conditions, so the neurosurgeon was (This is a true story, transferring her care to only the name “Lily” had the ICU. When “Lily” arrived at been changed for confithe ICU and was transdentiality.) ferred to her bed, I was On a snowy, December immediately struck by two day in 1983, I was working things. One, she had minas a registered nurse in an imal injuries on her body, intensive care unit (ICU) but she had swelling and in Colorado. My shift injuries around her head had just started, when I and face; and two, she had received a call from the beautiful, long, red hair. emergency room; I was to She just looked so peacereceive a patient, a young ful, lying on the bed all girl of 17, who had crashed bundled up in white. her car on a slippery I spoke with the neumountain road. She ended rosurgeon to get a betup submerged in the river. ter feel for her prognoHelp came quickly, how- sis. He said her electrical ever, she sustained a activity of the brain (EEG) head injury and was in was almost “normal.” His a coma. The E.R. nurses hopes were that when the had warmed her up and swelling went down, she
would awaken, and start to recover. Over the next several days, I tenderly cared for Lily, along with my coworkers. I also hummed Christmas songs (a bad habit of mine), while I tended to her needs. Her family was allowed to have only brief visits, and her mother placed a
To see the King
The Christmas letter
By Elizabeth Vrudny Registered nurse, Menahga
By Evelyn Hawn Park Rapids
spread out in all directions around the glowing I was sitting at the city, rumpled and soft table, eating dinner with and dark. But, of course, the my parents when Abdul highlight of any night in crashed through the door, panting and wav- Persia was the stars. They were spread out ing a fistful of parchacross the night sky ments in the air. like a thousand dropIt was a hot, humid lets of white ink on a night outside. The city black parchment. They streets were still thick were bright, like lamps with the smell of the scattered throughout a spices that had been sold dark field. They told stoin the market earlier ries, and if you looked that day, but now fire- at them close enough, light and flickering oil if you documented their lamps filled the build- movements and spent ings of the city as night years staring at their fell in earnest. The moon shimmering faces, you was a crescent this eve- could discover truly ning and, as usual, not incredible things. a cloud was to be seen Like this. in the blackened sky. The gentle desert sands KING: Page B4
Reflecting on a wonderful life A year later, we were married, cutting our Christmas is special to own Christmas tree and most people. It brings planning our life togethback memories of child- er. In the next few years, hood and that special, we were watching our once-in-a-lifetime gift babies as they played from Mom and Dad or with their Christmas Grandma and Grandpa... toys. Life was good. We days gone by that can made colorful blocks not be recaptured except from odds and ends of in our memories. lumber, made sleds for Christmas eve 1965 the kids to ride on and was extra special to me hung colorful chains of because my husband paper on the tree. proposed to me that LIFE: Page B5 night. By Jean Avenson Park Rapids
By Kay Dyre Park Rapids It is said that the devil finds work of idle hands. Few hands are more idle than mine lately and I am more than happy to give the devil his due for the project I found myself struggling with in early December. From somewhere I got the notion to write my own Christmas letter to family and friends. This was precipitated by my totally inexplicable finding of some pretty Christmas stationery in a kitchen drawer. The paper was 9 by 11 with a birchbark look and edged with green pine boughs, red ribbons and holly leaves; very festive, but not gaudy. It was only later that I realized how thoroughly I’d been suckered in. This “magic find” gave me a chance to: A. Waste not; B. Be creative and personal; C. Save money by not having to “buy anything!” My spirit soared. (The devil smiled.) Everything you do as a senior is a serious struggle. It takes longer, tests your abilities and resolve, and turns out to be less than you hoped for or intended. But you carry on. Before long, I had my message ready. I wanted it to be simple, informative, warm and sincere and it was. Part 1 was done. Party 2 would transfer my message to a master copy which would be reproduced by my fax machine, inserted into
A special supplement by the Wednesday, December 22, 2021
photo of her at the top of her headboard. There was that same beautiful, young girl with the red hair. On Dec. 24, there were no signs in Lily’s status towards awakening. The other staff and I, along with her family, were getting discouraged. I spoke with her physician. He said he was still optimistic she would recover. He told me to pray, and initiated some changes in care. He informed me her condition had improved, so that she could now have more frequent visitors, and I would be allowed to wash her hair. Excited at the prospect of changes, I headed to
addressed envelopes and sent on its way. I smiled. (The devil giggled.) My typewriter is old, seldom used, never maintained and full of dust, dirt, eraser chaff and cookie crumbs, but it is at least electric. However, it wasn’t typing clearly or cleanly. The letter wheel was dirty and out of alignment. I had no idea how to fix that. Good, old German bullheadedness would have to carry me through the challenge once more. Two days later, with the sacrifice of many hours and my personal toothbrush, I got the wheel cleaned and printing properly. It turned out that the devil was not the only one helping me with my project. Murphy and his Law were right there beside him. I had no idea what the phrase “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong” might include. Turns out, it was a lot. It was the correction tape that failed me next. It took some deep digging through desk drawers and cupboards to finally find a set of those slippery devils. You DO NOT want to drop either of those snarly reels, but I did, of course. Nonetheless, I was finally actually able to produce some readable print. Amazing. Many wasted pages of stationery later, I finally had a master copy to try in my printer. I carefully loaded the paper tray, inserted my copy, checked all the possible options, and pushed START. Sure enough, a copy emerged.
the family waiting room for help. Her grandmother was the only one present, so I recruited her. The two of us washed, unsnarled and combed her mass of hair. While I attended to another patient, her grandmother dried and braided her hair. When I returned, she looked like a new person. I was ending my shift, about 11 p.m., and I was anxious to get home and join my husband for Christmas service. As I was walking out the door, her IV alarm went off. As I reset it, I placed my hand on her forehead and wished her a “Merry Christmas.”
LILY: Page B6
Clear, neat and on the wrong side of the stationery. (Some chuckling heard; not mine.) I refilled the paper tray, took a deep breath, and again hit START. Three loud BEEPS sounded and a message appeared in the message box. My magenta was empty. Say, what?? I soon learned one ink cartridge was empty and no printing would happen without it. That would require a trip to town and I’m no longer a driver. I admit it. I cried. Two days later, my nerves were calmed as my elves had brought me a new set of ink cartridges and a new toothbrush. The final push began. I glanced at the calendar. December 12. It was now or never for my project to succeed. I had addressed the envelopes so only the message was left to print. I hit START for what I prayed would be the final time, and waited. Slowly but surely, 20 neatly printed pages piled up on the desk before me. They were perfect. Or, as we seniors often must say, “Close enough!” I sighed in relief and just shut my eyes and stood quietly for a prayerful moment. Then, just as I looked up, I swear I caught a glimpse of two thumbs up hovering in the distance. All I could say was, “Merry Christmas, guys! I couldn’t have done it without you!” “The Christmas Letter” is an excerpt from Kay Dyre’s book, “Just Another Senior Surprise: A Treatise on Aging.”