A Christmas Story

Well, this story I wrote did not make the finals of the contest. It was way too long. But try as I might, I just could not make what I had to say squish down into 500 words. Oh, well, I'll try again next year. In the meantime, here is my Christmas story. I hope you guys like it.

One little sprig of mint to decorate the plate, and the fruitcake was ready to serve. Anna May admired her handiwork for a moment, the tall, beautiful cake with the fancy fluting at the crown. “Thank you, Mrs. Harvey, wherever you are,” sighed Anna May. It wouldn’t be Christmas without the traditional family fruitcake and this new recipe she’d gotten out of the local paper was a far cry from Aunt Toddy’s old rum cake of year’s past.

Great-aunt Theodora Winston’s rum fruitcake had been a family tradition and a running family joke for almost more than two generations. Aunt Toddy was a great woman, an adventuress, a business woman. She had lived all over the world, broken hearts in at least 9 different countries and turned down her last marriage proposal only nine years before at 81. “Why should I marry now?” she chortled to Anna May that Christmas, “I am still having too much fun.”

But with all of her accomplishments, she was a terrible cook. She took Christmas dinner at home with Anna May’s family every year, and insisted on making her rum fruitcake for dessert. The cake was dark and heavy, and always came out sort of squatty and lopsided because of the short, deeply dented pan Aunt Toddy used.

Aunt Toddy’s cake always got eaten, amid gales of laughter, and lots of jokes. Anna May’s brother, Riley, made most of them.

“Santa doesn’t need any coal for the bad kids in this house. He can just break off a few bits of Aunt Toddy’s cake.”

“Any year now that cake is going rise up off the table, weave its way tipsily toward the door, and check itself into the Betty.”

“Better not light the candles near the cake, Mama. I’m not sure the fire insurance is paid up.”

Everyone laughed at Riley’s jokes, and nobody laughed louder than Aunt Toddy herself. She sat in her special bentwood rocker that Daddy would drag up to the table, and told stories about the family, and all the amazing things she’d seen. And somehow, year after year, in the clatter of conversation and laughter as everyone sat around, most of the drunken fruitcake was devoured by the family, just as they devoured the lively, spirited love that Aunt Toddy had for them all.

Aunt Toddy had died quietly in her sleep just this past spring, and everyone took it hard, but Anna May was determined to keep her family’s spirits up. She decided to cook the whole Christmas dinner for the family herself this year. The new fruitcake recipe had only occurred to her at the last minute, after she watched her mother tearfully baking Aunt Toddy’s recipe a few days before. The lumpy rum cake stood even now off to the side, and Anna May could not look at it without choking up a bit herself. No, she thought, shaking her head. It’s silly to dwell like this. Sometimes traditions have to change a bit, that’s all. That’s life.

Anna May scooped up the cake plate and a large bowl of whipped cream and swept into the dining room. “Dessert is served,” she said, maybe a little too brightly. The whole family looked at the golden tower of cake, slightly puzzled. “I made this brand new recipe. It is supposed to be just great. Pass the plates.” She made short work of serving up a piece to each, then sat down to watch them take the first taste of the new tradition.

Anna May noticed how quiet everyone had become. She looked around the table. Her mother was picking at her cake; her brother still slowly chewing his first bite.

“Is it okay?” asked Anna May.

“Delicious,” said Uncle Herman, with a wan smile

“It’s very light,” said Mom, taking another bite.

Daddy had a very faraway look in his eyes. “You did a good job, honey.” He said faintly.

Anna May picked up her fork and savagely speared a bite of her cake. “Well, if it is so awful, you don’t have to eat it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Annie,” said her brother. “The cake’s great. It just isn’t--“ His voice trailed off as he glanced at the spot where the old bentwood rocker would have been drawn up alongside the table.

Daddy cleared his throat. “Well, now y’all. Anna May has worked very hard on all this. Let’s just eat.”

The clink of forks was too obvious in the quiet around the table. Anna may sighed and tried her first bite of the new family fruitcake. It was golden sweet with butter and plump with fruit and nuts. It seemed to just rest on her tongue for a second and then melt away to nothing, leaving behind just flavor of the vanilla and all that fruit. And suddenly she remembered her first taste of champagne, when she was 10 years old. Aunt Toddy had overridden all the other adults, and let her favorite niece ring in the New Year like everyone else. Toddy had given her a sip of fine French champagne from her own cold bubbly glass. It was fizzy, a little sweet, a little tart; she remembered feeling glamorous and louche like the French actresses that Aunt Toddy told stories about. Aunt Toddy was always feeding her imagination in those little ways.

Anna May stood up and grabbed up Mrs. Harvey’s delicious White Fruitcake and headed for the kitchen. A minute later she was back with Aunt Toddy’s dense, dark, lopsided rum fruitcake. Her family looked around the table, then back at the cake and then carefully at Anna May’s grinning face.

“Well, belly up to the bar, family. Who wants a slice of Aunt Toddy’s masterpiece?”

Her brother laughed and held out a plate. “Heck, I’m not driving anywhere tonight, Annie. Serve it up.”

Everyone cracked up and began talking at once as Anna May sliced up the cake. “Hey, George, remember when Aunt Toddy took all the kids for a camel ride that one Christmas…”

Breaking my patience...

Okay, I have heard the buzz. I have read the "Boondocks" strip. So, when do I actually get to see "Brokeback Mountain?"

I thought it was supposed to be released this past weekend, and I combed the papers looking for a showtime. I called the Moviefone guy so often he must have thought I was looking for a date. Still, no mention of this reputed Oscar contender anywhere in my immediate area.

Now, I know Tampa is provincial; most of the art-house type movies I want to check out blow through this market so fast you could get whiplash. ("Dude, Where's My Car?" however, was held over so long the clothes in the film went out of style.) But I figured, hey, a movie with this much critical acclaim has got to pop up somewhere here. Even if it is about two manly cowboys who, er, enjoy each other's...um...company?

Imagine my surprise when I did a little digging and found that the movie has only been released in three cities. (New York, LA, and San Francisco...the apparent holy trinity of hip). Granted, I can bet they won't get quite the revenue here in the backwoods of Tampa, especially with the Podunk Princess, Hillsborough County Commish Ronda Storms (a baton-twirler of a name if there ever was one) attempting to codify the only form of discrimination you can't be sued for in this county, that against the homosexual members of the community. But still, the movie is only showing on 5 screens in the whole country. And there hasn't been any wide release date set. Surely, if this is truly worthy of all the raves, it might be worth the risk to open it up to the whole country and let everybody see what the fuss is about. After all, there are small pockets of intelligence and sensitivity everywhere in America. Even in Tampa, Florida.