Bah Humbled

My head ached, and traffic was unbelievable. Already late for the book signing, when someone stole my parking spot I did more than bah and humbug. I am ashamed to say that I let out such a blood-curdling scream that a passer-by heard me through my closed windows and looked frightened. When I finally did park blocks and blocks away, I dove out of my car and started running. My boots were never made for these ancient, red brick streets. But as I ran, the miracle began to set in: this was Main Street Saint Charles (Missouri) over Christmas.

The festivities have grown over the years, and it is spectacular. Here was a real-life version of those nostalgic little Christmas towns that people try to capture in ornaments.

As I sprinted down the damp streets, an old-time, velvet-cloaked Kris Kringle waved a gloved hand at me and smiled a genuine smile. Smoke billowed the scent of roasting chestnuts from the street corners. People hugged their mugs in icy hands, breathed in the chocolate-scented steam, or cradled homemade cookies in their mittens. Bundled, pink-cheeked children clung to their parents’ hands and tried to keep up, jiggledy-frolicky bounce, pom-poms dancing.

When I finally got to Main Street Books, Vicki was there to greet everyone in a scene right out of a Christmas calendar. Upstairs sat six smiling friends: Linda O’Connell, Becky Povich, Theresa Sanders, Sherri Stanczak, Pat Wahler, and Patsy Zettler. Below are (far left to right) Pat, Becky and Linda.

The parade started shortly after I got there, and we had a great view from upstairs. We met many new people, saw some beloved old friends, and as always, laughed.

Stay tuned for Part II—Doug Hauls Asses.

Minister at a service we attended on Christmas Eve, 2006: “Love wins.”