Christmas Story: We're The Posadas * Concerts and more * Book Sale * Bill's Coffeeshop Newsletter * Vol. 12 * Dec. 3, 2011
CHECK THESE
Tuesday, Dec. 6, 7 pm. Music with No Coast. Local alt folk/pop band
Wednesday, Dec. 7, 7 pm Spoken Word Open Mic (Readers & Writers Group at 6 pm. Plus Art)
Thursday, Dec. 8, 6 pm Art Night. 7 pm. Open Mic.
7:45 pm Music with Brandon McHose
Friday, Dec. 9, 4 pm. Chess Club.
Saturday, Dec. 10, 7 pm. Saturday Night Music with Pigs & Clover
Wednesday, Dec. 14, 7 pm. Spoken Word (Readers and Writers Group at 6 pm. Plus Art)
Thursday, Dec. 15, 6 pm. Art Night. 7 pm. Open Mic.
7:45 pm Music and CD release party with Erin Ebnet
Friday, Dec. 16, 4 pm. Chess Club. 5 pm. Friday Night Jazz with Brazilian duo of guitarist Ze Emilio and drummer Marcelo Corvosa.
Saturday, Dec. 17, 7 pm. Saturday Night Music with The Beggarmen
Tuesday, Dec. 20, 6 pm. Jazz Jam
Wednesday, Dec. 21, 7 pm Spoken Word Open Mic. (Readers & Writers Group meets at 6 pm.)
Thursday, Dec. 22, 6 pm Art Night. 7 pm. Open Mic
Sunday, Dec. 25. Noon to 2 pm. Christmas Dinner. All are welcome.
Tuesday, Dec. 27, 6 pm. Live webcast of Tom's Guitar Show
*** WE'RE THE POSADAS: A CHRISTMAS STORY ***
"EXCUSE ME, sir," the woman said. "Do you know where the Shelter House is?"
"Sure," I said. "It's just three more blocks." I pointed up the hill.
It was a warm night, warm for December 23 at least. And clear, too. Even in the middle of the city you could see stars in the sky above.
"My name is Maria," the woman said. "We just came back here from Chicago. I had a job there and a nice place to live. But some other
things didn't work out.
"So we came back here. I thought we'd have a place to stay when we got here. But my friend is gone. Someone told me about Shelter House. But I think we got lost trying to find it."
"You're not really lost," I said. "You're very close. Here, I'll walk with you."
"Thank you," she said.
"No problem," I responded. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. "Let me call Michaela and tell her you're coming,"
"You know people at the shelter?" she asked.
"Oh yes," I said. "Michaela and I were in a class together a few years ago. She started volunteering at shelter house as part of a class assignment. Then after graduation she started working there.
"She once told me that her dad used to take her to a shelter house in her hometown every year during the holidays. They would bake pies and deliver them on Thanksgiving or Christmas."
"Cool story," Maria said. She stopped for a minute, as if to remember something.
"Oh, I haven't introduced you to my children. This is Alberto, he's 11. Luisa is 8. And Jesus is 5."
Each of the children was carrying a trash bag. "We didn't have suitcases," Maria explained. "Besides they could have the bags next to them on the bus."
JESUS was also carrying a small teddy bear. "He didn't want teddy to go into his bag," Maria said.
"He wouldn't be able to see if he were in my bag," Jesus explained.
"Oh," I said.
We had walked one block. "Just two more blocks."
"Why does it have to be so far?" Luisa said in a very tired voice.
"It's not really that far," I said. "If it's okay with your mom, I'll give you a piggyback ride the rest of the way."
"Mom, is that okay?" Luisa asked.
"Go ahead," said Maria.
I scooped up Luisa and we started again.
"What about me?" Jesus said. "Will I get a ride, too."
"Sure," I said. "When we get to the house, I'll give you a ride."
We continued the rest of the way in silence. Except for Alberto, who was humming "Jingle Bells."
IT really was a beautiful night. Outdoor holiday lights twinkled at us; indoor trees glowed through front windows. And somewhere in the distance we could hear Christmas music playing.
"This is it," I said, pointing to the house on the corner. "This is Shelter House."
"But that's a house, " Maria said. "It doesn't look like a shelter."
I smiled. "I know," I said, remembering all the discussions about having a shelter with the look of a home. It hadn't been easy, especially when advocates proposed the shelter not only be a real house, but also be located in a real neighborhood instead of being relegated to some industrial zone at the edge of downtown. That was over 10 years ago. Now the neighbors were strong supporters of Shelter House, even cooking dinner one night a week.
Michaela met us on the porch. "Welcome," she said. "We've been expecting you. Come in."
We went inside and Michaela asked Maria to register. She pointed to a big leather book, like one you might see at a bed and breakfast in some resort town. She asked the children to register, too. Jesus asked if he could register his teddy as well; Michaela said sure.
By now, it was past 9 pm. Michaela invited Maria and her children into the dining room for a supper of leftovers. I joined them for a few minutes. After everyone appeared settled, I stood up to say goodnight.
"But you didn't give me a piggyback ride," Jesus said.
"You're right, and I promised to do that." I said. "So let's go." I hoisted him up onto my shoulders and we went out into the backyard.
After a few minutes we came back in. I put Jesus down and again said good night.
"Thank you," Maria said. "Will you be back?"
"Oh yes, I'll be back tomorrow afternoon," I said. "My class is making dinner."
WHEN I returned the next afternoon, Floyd was at the door. "Hey look at this, will ya" he said, pointing to the registration book. "Can you believe this? Jesus is staying here for Christmas," pronouncing the first letter like a "J." "Holy crap."
"Yes, I know," I said. "And you say his name Jesus, first two letters sound like "Hay. Where are they?"
Floyd stopped for a moment to think. "Oh, they went grocery shopping."
"All of them?" I asked.
"No, just the mom and Jesus," he said, pronouncing the 'J' prominently again.
"Hay-sus," I said.
"Oh, yeah, right," Floyd answered. "Anyway, the other two are at an after school program down the street."
JUST THEN the front door opened and Jesus burst in. "You're going to make tamales with me," he said. "My mom and Mickie said." Maria and Michaela followed close behind. I looked at them for an explanation.
Maria spoke first. "Michaela told us your story about looking for tamales every Christmas Eve. She said you know how to make them in a crock pot. So we got everything we'll need. I thought you and I and Jesus could make them together."
"We started telling stories about Christmas," Michaela said. "I told her about baking pies each year and taking them to a shelter. But someone already told her that story." She smiled at me, then went on.
"But you didn't tell her about going to the zoo after that. We always did that, too. My dad said the animals were lonely at Christmas. Of course, the zoo was always free on Christmas Day.
"Then I told her your story about looking for tamales for Christmas Eve -- and the challenges which have come with that. Like the year you tried to use egg roll skins. Or searching for suitable tofu so you could make veggie tamales." She laughed.
"This year we have everything for beef and veggie tamales. And I thought you might like to try lamb tamales, too."Michaela took Jesus by the hand. "Let's go into the kitchen," she said.
"Tomasito, too?" Jesus asked.
"I told him your dad is Tom, too," Maria explained. So that makes you Tomasito."
So off we went to the kitchen, leaving Floyd muttering to himself. "I still can't get over the idea of having Jesus here on Christmas," he whispered to me as I walked by him.
We started by soaking the corn husks. "Where did you find these?" I asked. "They're not easy to find around here."
"Oh, I asked the family down the block if we could take the corn husks from their garden. They said sure. They'll be down later for tamales."
AFTER about 15 minutes, it hit me. We were actually going to have tamales this Christmas Eve, thanks to Maria and Michaela, and of
course, Jesus.
"Tomasito, what are you thinking about?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, I was trying to remember what Christmas was like when I was your age. I remember putting up a tree on Christmas Eve. I remember sitting on Santa's lap in a store window. I remember the store windows being decorated..."
I WAS interrupted by a commotion out in the front yard. We all went to see what was going on. When we opened the door, we found a group of young people. "We're the posadas," said the youngest.
Alberto stepped forward with an explanation. "We were talking about the Nativity deal, about Mary and Joseph looking for a place to stay. I said that we acted this out in a play called Los Posadas." Our teacher suggested we do that tonight. Then we decided to go out around the neighborhood. When we got to this house, I said this was where I was staying. So here we are."
There was Joseph, wearing a cape which probably had been part of a Batman costume. There was Mary with a "You're not the boss of me" sweatshirt. She was carrying a Cabbage Patch doll. "This is Jesus," she explained, holding out the doll. The rest of the group was composed of shepherds, wise men (and women), and animals.
Floyd joined us, looking even more puzzled. "Jesus," he said. "This whole place is crazy."
Jesus heard him. "My name is Hay-sus,"e said, pronouncing it carefully and loudly.
"Sorry," said Floyd. "I wasn't talking to you."
Maria stepped in. "Jesus, be polite, please," she said.
"You all look very nice," she said. "Would you like to learn a Christmas song in Spanish?"
"Yes," they all shouted, looking a lot like a troupe of Peanuts characters.
"Just a minute," said a voice from inside the house. It was Floyd holding up a guitar. "I'll play along."
So Maria taught us "O Blanca Navidad," the Spanish version of White Christmas.
O blanca Navidad sueno
Que todo es blanca alrededor
Blanca Noche Buena
Mi mensajera
De paz y de buen amor
Then Floyd said he wanted to sing us a song. "It's by Tuck and Patti.
Do you know them? " he said, turning to me.
"Yes," I said. "I remember when...."
But Floyd didn't wait for my answer. He started playing.
For Christmas this year I know exactly what you'd like
And I know you know I want the same things too
And I wish that I could give to you all your heart's desire
And see your face on Christmas day when all your dreams come true
But worldwide understanding and peaceful people everywhere
Is something right now beyond my reach
But we can do it simply: we could do it from the heart
Give presents that we know will never fade
And with all the ones we love, and everyone we know
Step by simple step, I know that we'll achieve
And in our homes, at least, a world that's filled with peace.
When he was done, he walked back inside without saying a word. We couldn't talk either. We'd never seen that side of Floyd. That song itself would been enough of a gift for that Christmas. But we had so much more. We had learned so much from each other in the last 24 hours.
And there we were on the steps of the Shelter House celebrating Christmas Eve: Maria, Michaela, and the Posadas posse. And, of course, Jesus, who was now walking around introducing himself to everyone saying: "Merry Christmas, my name is Jesus," pronouncing the 'J' just like Floyd did.
Wild Bill's Coffeeshop is a project of the School of Social Work at the University of Iowa. It has been a part of campus life in Iowa City for more than 35 years. Located in North Hall, the coffeeshop is open weekdays from 8 am. For more information, check the Friends of Bill's Coffeeshop page on Facebook. You can call the coffeeshop at (319) 335-1281. Donations to support the work of the coffeeshop may be sent to: Bill's Coffeeshop Fund, University of Iowa Foundation, P.O. Box 4550, Iowa City, IA 52244. Contributions are tax deductible.
Uptown Bill's is the crosstown cousin of Wild Bill's. Now in its 11th year, it includes a bookstore, performance venue and other businesses in addition to a coffeeshop. Located at 730 S. Dubuque, Uptown Bill's is open Monday through Saturday from 10 am. For more information, check the Uptown Bill's website or Facebook page. You can call Uptown Bill's at (319) 339-0804. Donations to support the work of Uptown Bill's may be sent to: Extend the Dream Foundation, Uptown Bill's, 730 S. Dubuque St., Iowa City, IA 52240. Contributions are tax deductible.
posted by Tom Gilsenan @ 6:19 AM
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