Old
George's
Christmas
Eve
Visitor
(You'll
need a
tissue)
The old
man sat in
his gas
station on
a cold
Christmas
Eve. He
hadn't
been
anywhere
in
years
since his
wife
passed
away. He
had no
decorations,
no tree,
no lights.
It was
just another day to him.
He didn't
hate
Christmas,
just
couldn't
find a
reason to
celebrate.
There were
no
children
in his
life.
His wife
had gone.
He was
sitting
there
looking at
the snow
that had
been
falling
for the
last hour
and
wondering what it was all about when the
door
opened and
a homeless
man
stepped
through.
Instead of
throwing
the man
out,
George, Old George as he was known by his
customers,
told the
man to
come and
sit
by the space heater and warm up.
"Thank
you, but I
don't mean
to
intrude,"
said the
stranger.
"I see
you're
busy. I'll
just go"
"Not
without
something
hot in
your
belly,"
George
turned and
opened a
wide mouth
Thermos
and handed
it to the
stranger.
"It ain't
much,
but it's
hot and
tasty.
Stew. Made
it myself.
When
you're
done
there's
coffee and
it's
fresh."
Just at
that
moment he
heard the
"ding" of
the
driveway
bell.
"Excuse me
be right
back,"
George
said.
There in
the
driveway
was an
old 53
Chevy.
Steam was
rolling
out of the
front. The
driver was
panicked.
"Mister
can
you help
me!" said
the driver
with a
deep
Spanish
accent.
"My wife
is with
child and
my car is
broken."
George
opened the
hood. It
was bad.
The block
looked
cracked
from the
cold; the
car was
dead.
"You ain't
going in
this
thing,"
George
said as
he turned
away.
"But
mister.
Please
help...."
The door
of the
office
closed
behind
George as
he went
in. George
went to
the office
wall and
got the
keys to
his old
truck, and
went
back
outside.
He walked
around the
building
and opened
the
garage,
started
the truck
and drove
it around
to where
the couple
was
waiting.
"Here,
take my
truck," he
said. "She
ain't the
best thing
you ever
looked at,
but she
runs
real
good."
George
helped put
the woman
in the
truck
and
watched as
it sped
off into
the night.
George
turned and
walked
back
inside the
office.
"Glad I
gave em
the truck.
Their
tires were
shot too.
That 'ol
truck has
brand
new........"
George
thought he
was
talking to
the
stranger,
but the
man had
gone. The
thermos
was on the
desk,
empty with
a used
coffee cup
beside it.
"Well, at
least he
got
something
in his
belly,"
George
thought.
George
went back
outside to
see if the
old Chevy
would
start. It
cranked
slowly,
but it
started.
He pulled
it into
the garage
where the
truck had
been. He
thought he
would
tinker
with it
for
something
to do.
Christmas
Eve meant
no
customers.
He
discovered
the the
block
hadn't
cracked,
it was
just the
bottom
hose on
the
radiator.
"Well,
shoot,
I can fix
this," he
said to
himself.
So he put
a new
one on. "Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either."
He took
the snow
treads off
of his
wife's old
Lincoln.
They were
like new
and he
wasn't
going to
drive the
car.
As he was
working he
heard
shots
being
fired. He
ran
outside
and beside
a police
car an
officer
lay on the
cold
ground.
Bleeding
from the
left
shoulder,
the
officer
moaned,
"Help me."
George
helped the
officer
inside as
he
remembered
the
training
he had
received
in the
Army as a
medic. He
knew the
wound
needed
attention.
"Pressure
to stop
the
bleeding,"
he
thought.
The
uniform
company
had been
there that
morning
and had
left clean
shop
towels. He
used those
and duct
tape to
bind the
wound.
"Hey, they
say duct
tape can
fix
anythin',"
he said,
trying to
make the
policeman
feel at
ease.
"Something
for pain,"
George
thought.
All he had
was the
pills he
used for
his back.
"These
ought to
work." He
put some
water in a
cup and
gave the
policeman
the pills.
"You hang
in there.
I'm going
to get you
an
ambulance."
The phone
was dead.
"Maybe I
can get
one of
your
buddies on
that there
talk box
out in
your car."
He went
out only
to find
that a
bullet had
gone into
the
dashboard
destroying
the two
way radio.
He went
back in to
find the
policeman
sitting
up.
"Thanks,"
said the
officer.
"You could
have left
me there.
The guy
that shot
me is
still in
the area."
George sat
down
beside
him. "I
would
never
leave an
injured
man in the
Army and I
ain't
gonna
leave
you."
George
pulled
back the
bandage to
check for
bleeding.
"Looks
worse than
what it
is. Bullet
passed
right
through 'ya.
Good thing
it missed
the
important
stuff
though. I
think with
time your
gonna be
right as
rain."
George got
up and
poured a
cup of
coffee.
"How do
you take
it?" he
asked.
"None for
me," said
the
officer.
"Oh, yer
gonna
drink
this. Best
in the
city. Too
bad I
ain't got
no
donuts."
The
officer
laughed
and winced
at the
same time.
The front
door of
the office
flew open.
In burst a
young man
with a
gun. "Give
me all
your cash!
Do it
now!" the
young man
yelled.
His hand
was
shaking
and George
could tell
that he
had never
done
anything
like this
before.
"That's
the guy
that shot
me!"
exclaimed
the
officer.
"Son, why
are you
doing
this?"
asked
George.
"You need
to put the
cannon
away.
Somebody
else might
get hurt."
The young
man was
confused.
"Shut up
old man,
or I'll
shoot you,
too. Now
give me
the cash!"
The cop
was
reaching
for his
gun.
"Put that
thing
away,"
George
said to
the cop.
"We got
one too
many in
here now."
He turned
his
attention
to the
young man.
"Son, it's
Christmas
Eve.
If you
need the
money,
well then,
here. It
ain't much
but it's
all I got.
Now
put that pee shooter away." George pulled $150 out
of his
pocket and
handed it
to the
young man,
reaching
for the
barrel of
the gun at
the same
time.
The young
man
released
his grip
on the
gun, fell
to his
knees and
began to
cry. "I'm
not very
good at
this am I?
All I
wanted was
to buy
something
for my
wife and
son," he
went on.
"I've lost
my job. My
rent is
due. My
car got
repossessed
last
week..."
George
handed the
gun to the
cop. "Son,
we all get
in a bit
of squeeze
now and
then. The
road gets
hard
sometimes,
but we
make it
through
the best
we can."
He got the
young man
to his
feet, and
sat him
down
on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George
handed the
young man
a cup of
coffee.
"Being
stupid is
one of the
things
that makes
us human.
Comin' in
here with
a gun
ain't the
answer.
Now sit
there and
get warm
and we'll
sort this
thing
out."
The young
man had
stopped
crying. He
looked
over to
the cop.
"Sorry I
shot you.
It just
went off.
I'm sorry
officer."
"Shut up
and drink
your
coffee."
the cop
said.
George
could hear
the sounds
of sirens
outside. A
police car
and an
ambulance
skidded to
a halt.
Two cops
came
through
the door,
guns
drawn.
"Chuck!
You ok?"
one of the
cops asked
the
wounded
officer.
"Not bad
for a guy
who took a
bullet.
How did
you find
me?" "GPS
locator in
the car.
Best thing
since
sliced
bread. Who
did this?"
the other
cop asked
as he
approached
the young
man. Chuck
answered
him, "I
don't
know. The
guy ran
off into
the dark.
Just
dropped
his gun
and ran."
George and
the young
man both
looked
puzzled at
each
other.
"That guy
work
here?,"
the
wounded
cop
continued.
"Yep,"
George
said.
"Just
hired him
this
morning.
Boy lost
his job."
The
paramedics
came in
and loaded
Chuck onto
the
stretcher.
The young
man leaned
over the
wounded
cop and
whispered,
"Why?"
Chuck just
said,
"Merry
Christmas
boy. And
you too,
George,
and thanks
for
everything."
"Well,
looks like
you got
one doozy
of a break
there.
That ought
to solve
some of
your
problems."
George
went into
the back
room and
came out
with a
box. He
pulled out
a ring
box. "Here
you go.
Something
for the
little
woman.
I don't
think
Martha
would
mind. She
said it
would come
in handy
some day."
The young
man looked
inside to
see the
biggest
diamond
ring he
ever saw.
"I can't
take
this,"
said the
young man.
"It means
something
to you."
"And now
it means
something
to you,"
replied
George. "I
got my
memories.
That's all
I need."
George
reached
into the
box again.
An
airplane,
a car and
a truck
appeared
next. They
were toys
that the
oil
company
had left
for him to
sell.
"Here's
something
for that
little man
of yours."
The young
man began
to cry
again as
he handed
back the
$150 that
the old
man had
handed him
earlier.
"And what
are you
supposed
to buy
Christmas
dinner
with? You
keep that
too,"
George
said. "Now
git home
to your
family."
The young
man turned
with tears
streaming
down his
face.
"I'll be
here in
the
morning
for work,
if that
job offer
is still
good."
"Nope. I'm
closed
Christmas
day,"
George
said.
"See ya
the day
after."
George
turned
around to
find that
the
stranger
had
returned.
"Where'd
you come
from? I
thought
you
left?"
"I have
been here.
I have
always
been
here,"
said the
stranger.
"You say
you don't
celebrate
Christmas.
Why?"
"Well,
after my
wife
passed
away I
just
couldn't
see what
all the
bother
was.
Puttin' up
a tree and
all seemed
a waste of
a good
pine tree.
Bakin'
cookies
like I
used to
with
Martha
just
wasn't
the same
by myself
and
besides I
was
getting a
little
chubby."
The
stranger
put his
hand on
George's
shoulder.
"But you
do
celebrate
the
holiday,
George.
You gave
me food
and drink
and warmed
me when I
was cold
and
hungry.
The woman
with child
will bear
a son and
he will
become a
great
doctor.
The
policeman
you helped
will go on
to save 19
people
from being
killed by
terrorists.
The young
man who
tried to
rob
you will
make you a
rich man
and not
take any
for
himself.
That is
the spirit
of the
season and
you keep
it as good
as any
man."
George was
taken
aback by
all this
stranger
had said.
"And how
do you
know all
this?"
asked the
old man.
"Trust me,
George. I
have the
inside
track on
this sort
of thing.
And when
your days
are done
you will
be
with
Martha
again."
The
stranger
moved
toward
the door.
"If you
will
excuse me,
George, I
have to go
now. I
have to go
home where
there is a
big
celebration
planned."
George
watched as
the old
leather
jacket and
the torn
pants that
the
stranger
was
wearing
turned
into a
white
robe.
A golden
light
began to
fill the
room.
"You see,
George...
it's my
birthday.
Merry
Christmas."
George
fell to
his knees
and
replied,
"Happy
Birthday,
Lord."
~Author
Unknown~
|