SEARCHING FOR THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT * THIS WEEK * Bill's Coffeeshop Newsletter * Vol. 13 * December 15, 2012

COMING EVENTS AT
THE COFFEE HOUSE
Saturday, Dec. 15
7 pm. Saturday Night Music. Feralings with Whitney Mann. $5 cover.

Wednesday, Dec. 19
1-4 pm. Chess and Scrabble group
3 pm. Recovery International support group.
7 pm. Spoken Word. Co-sponsored by Little Village magazine. Ten minute slices of poetry and other writings. Read your own work or a favorite author. Sign up at the coffee house.

Thursday, Dec. 20
6 pm. Artvaark (art activities)
7 pm. Open Mic. Ten minute performances of music and other arts.

Saturday, Dec. 22
No music this Saturday. Closing at 5 pm.

Monday, Dec. 24 (Christmas Eve)
Closing early! Open 10 am to 2 pm.

Tuesday, Dec. 25 (Christmas Day)
Open 10 am to 2 pm

SEARCHING FOR THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT:
PIE LADY, KLEZMER NUTCRACKER & CHINESE BUFFET

"I"M KATE," she said, sliding into the seat across from me in the coffeeshop. "They told me I should talk to you."

It was Christmas Eve and I was doing a little paperwork in the coffeeshop. Things were winding down and we were planning to close early.

"Talk to me about what," I said, looking up at her. "Oh, I'm Tom," I added.

"The Christmas spirit," she said. "I don't have any of it. Peace, love, all that stuff -- I just don't feel it. One of my teachers at school said I should come talk to you."

She paused for a moment, pushing the piercing on her lower lip in and out with her tongue. Then she went on: "I mean, look around, look at our town, every thing's so messed up.

"My friend Joe is living in the basement of a house without heat or lights. My friend Julie is in one of those group homes for delinquent girls up in Bemidji or someplace just because she shouted at her mom and called her a name.

"And me, did you know what happened to me?" By now Kate was out of the booth and walking around the coffeeshop practically shouting. "I came home from school one day last month and there's this note from my mom saying she'd decided to leave us and move to California to live with some guy she met online. I don't want any sympathy or anything, but how am I supposed to have any Christmas spirit at a time like this?

"Then there's poverty and violence and all that other crap. Makes Christmas seem so fake, like those plastic trees with pretend snow on them."

"I can see your point." I replied. "Say, can I get you a cup of coffee. It's free now, I'll just gonna throw away what's left."

"Whatever," she said. I got up and headed toward the kitchen. "Okay, sure," she shouted after me.

"All right," I said. Stay right here; I'll be back in a minute."

I WENT into the kitchen to get the coffee. I lingered there for a few moments wondering what I was going to do. I thought of a few silly things: Find a Santa hat and run around the coffeeshop shouting "Ho, ho ho." Sing a few alternative Christmas lyrics, like "Jingle bells, Batman smells..." I thought of a few serious things: Tell one of my Christmas stories from past years. Quote a few writers on Christmas spirit. Nothing seemed right.

I also wondered who the teacher was who sent Kate to see me on Christmas Eve. "Like I have time for this," I thought.

"Where did you go?" Kate said, when I came back with coffee. "You were gone for a long time. I was about ready to put your face on a milk carton."

"Oh sorry," I said. "I was just thinking, I guess."

"About what?" Kate said.

"Lots of things, including the dishes in the kitchen. As long as you're here, do you want to help me. We can talk while we're doing the dishes."

"Okay," Kate said.

Over the dishes, we talked about school, about friendships, about the fact there hadn't been any snow yet this year. I was somewhat relieved that we didn't get to the "Christmas spirit" topic which brought her in.

It was nearly six now and time to close the coffeeshop. "What are you doing right now?" I asked Kate. "Would you like to go on a few adventures with me?"

"Sure," she said. "There's nothing to go home to right now. My dad works until 10 pm; my brother has gone to a friend's house for Christmas Eve. So I'd just be home alone."

SO WE set off into a Christmas Eve. I had called my plans "adventures," but the truth is that these were more like "errands." Or so I thought.

Our first stop was the downtown Dayton's department store. A customer of the coffeeshop had given us some money to buy a popcorn popper which looked like a miniature popcorn wagon. To me, it looked just like the popcorn wagon which sits in a park in Spring Valley, Minnesota each summer. We really couldn't afford to buy it, but a longtime customer gave me a check saying: "Go get it. Think of it as a present for all of us in the coffeeshop."

We couldn't find the popper on our own, so we asked a young employee for help. I guessed he was 19, the same age as Kate. He took us to the spot where the popper was on display. "Last one," he said. He took it off the shelf and carried it over to the cash register. After he wrapped up our purchase, he shook our hands and wished us a "Merry Christmas."

"He's probably not even a Christian," Kate said in a rather loud voice. I hoped he didn't hear us.

The young man did hear us and came back to the register. "You're right, I"m not a Christian," he said to Kate. "I'm a Muslim. I'm from Somalia and it was very hard growing up there. This is only my fifth year in America. But just because I'm a Muslim doesn't mean I can't appreciate Christmas. It's a great idea -- I wish I could act like every day was Christmas."

"Sorry," Kate said, "It's just that..."

"No need to say anything," the young man replied. "Have a Merry Christmas."

* * * * *

'WE'RE going to see the Pie Lady next," I said to Kate as we climbed into the car. "She's a neighbor who always bakes pies on Christmas Eve."

"Does she have a name?" Kate asked. "Yes, it's Maura," I said. "But she's been "The Pie Lady" to us for years now."

We pulled up to her little house, got out of the car and walked up to the house. I started to turn the door handle. "Don't you think you should knock?" Kate said.

"No," I replied, "The Pie Lady has always said I should just walk in."

"She doesn't lock her door?" Kate asked.

"No," I replied. "the Pie Lady says that if someone really needs something they should be able to just walk in and take it."

"That's nuts," Kate said.

"Perhaps," I replied. "But wouldn't it be great if we all felt that way."

"Then you're nuts, too," Kate said.

"You're not the first person to tell me that." I said. Kate laughed.

We walked into the house, through the living room and into the kitchen. "Hello, Merry Christmas," the Pie Lady said. "I see you've brought someone with you. You are...?

"I'm Kate," she said. "Tom invited me along on his Christmas Eve adventures. So here I am. Sure smells good in here."

"Thanks," the Pie Lady said. "I do this every year on Christmas Eve."

"Where's your family? Don't they help you?" Kate asked.

"No," the Pie Lady answered. "I haven't had the kind of family you're asking about in a long time. My husband got into the car one morning and drove to work. Or so I thought. He never came back. That was years ago. I heard he'd gone to Arizona or some place like that. But he never contacted me again.

"My son died a few years ago. I have a daughter, but I never hear from her. She hasn't written or called in 10 years or so. I heard that she got married, but...

"I'm sorry," Kate said. "So you're here all by yourself on Christmas."

"Oh no," the Pie Lady said. "I have a wonderful family here every year. Your friend Tom is one of my family who stops by on Christmas Eve. I call him my nephew, one of a bunch of nieces and nephews who are in my new family. And he always brings along interesting young people like you. Say would you like a piece of strawberry rhubarb or French apple?"

Over pie, we talked about the lack of snow, our holiday plans and our favorite Christmas songs. Kate said her favorite is the rewritten version of Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer. "You know," she said 'never let Rudolph join in any reindeer games -- like Monopoly' and 'used to laugh and call him names -- like Pinocchio.' " The Pie Lady said her favorite carol is White Christmas and recalled scenes from the movie which introduced the song.

My favorite? O Holy Night because it reminds me of one particularly magical Christmas a long time ago in Minneapolis. Dayton's store windows featured scenes from The Nutcracker that year.

After pie, we got up to go. We thanked the Pie Lady, put our coats on and head towards the door. "You're welcome to come back tomorrow," the Pie Lady said to Kate. "Bring someone along, too."

"Thanks," Kate replied.

WE GOT back into the car and drove off. "Nice lady," Kate said. "I think I'd like to go back tomorrow -- and take my friend Joe."

"Sounds great," I said. "Our next stop is Laura and Jim's house."

"Oh, I know them," Kate said. "But I thought they were Jewish. Why are we going to their house on Christmas Eve?"

I smiled. "The answer to your question is less than two miles away."

We had to park several houses down from Laura and Jim because of all the cars. "Do you think all these people are at their house," Kate asked.

"I dunno," I replied. "Let's go in and find out."

We went up to the door and rang the doorbell. A little girl opened it and invited us in with a "Happy Hanukkah." We went inside and followed the little girl into the living room. "More people, mom" she said. Several couples were in the living room, including Laura and Jim. They were singing holiday songs.

"I'm not sure I should be here," Kate said quietly to me as we walked in.

"No need to worry," I said. "I come nearly every Christmas Eve and I am always welcome to bring anyone along."

The singing stopped a minute after we walked in. There were introductions all around and then the singing resumed. We joined in. After several songs, I noticed that none of the children were around.

"Where are all the little cruisers?" I asked, referring to the children.

"Oh, they're in the basement. They're dancing to the Klezmer Nutcracker."

"I've got to see this," I said. "I turned to Kate and asked if she wanted to come along, She nodded and we were off.

We opened the basement door and heard a musical blast of the Nutcracker, but with a twist. There were tubas and banjos in this music. Ah, klezmer music, I thought. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, we could see about a dozen children, all in costume. There were a couple of snowflakes, a sugar plum fairy, a soldier. But there were also children dressed as the "Latke Queen" and as dreidels

"One of the children came up with a CD case and offered it to us. "We're dancing to the Klezmer Nutcracker," he said. "It's just the same -- only Jewish." Kate and I laughed, then stepped back as a couple of snowflakes and a dreidel whirled by. We joined the dancers for a few minutes then went back upstairs.

Laura told us the Christmas Eve dance was Jim's idea. He'd first heard the Klezmer Nutcracker about ten years ago. It had grown into a holiday tradition.

"It's sort of like that Dance-along Nutcracker you told me about earlier," Kate said.

"Yeah, but Jim has actually done it," I said.

"So, what's stopping you. There's still time. Why don't you see if we can do it between Christmas and New Years in that coffeeshop."

"I'd love to," I said, "though I must tell you that this Dance-along thing started out as a joke. You know, the next thing after a Sing-along Messiah."

"I'll help you," Kate said.

I looked up at the clock and noticed it was past 9 pm. "Time to go," I said to Kate. We said our goodbyes and headed. "Where to now?" Kate asked as we got back into the car.

"Hungry?" I said. "Shall we look for someplace to eat? You're my guest. In fact, you're my commensal."

"Sure, but there's no place open now. You can't get anything except a microwave burrito from a stop and rob," she said. "And what's a commensal?"

"Oh yes, there is some place open," I said. "There's one Chinese restaurant which always stays open on Christmas Eve. And a commensal is your dinner companion. I once worked in an office with a very, very funny person. She loved looking up odd words and then introducing them to us. That's how I learned commensal."

"You're weird, too, not just crazy," Kate said. We both laughed.

"So are you willing to go to a Chinese restaurant with Mr. Weird," I said. "I promise not to make noises with my food, but beyond that..."

"Hey," Kate interrupted. "Look at that lady dragging that big suitcase. Let's ask her if she wants a ride."

"Okay," I said pulling over to the curb. "But do you think she'll take a ride from someone who's weird."

Kate laughed, then stuck her head out the window. "Merry Christmas, lady. Would you like a ride?" she said. The woman looked up, smiled and said yes. Kate jumped out, grabbed the suitcase and put it in the trunk. Then she told the woman to ride up front. The woman started to object, but Kate was already in the back seat doing introductions.

"I'm Kate," she said. "Oh, and the guy driving is Tom. He's my Christmas elf." She leaned over the seat and said: "Okay, elf, let's go." So I pulled back out into the street, though I didn't know where we were going or why.

"Let's look at a few lights," Kate said. The woman in front nodded her approval. Kate directed me up this block and down that one, commenting on just about every display. Some she liked, some she didn't. Some reminded her of happier family days; some of her friend Julie.

"There, that's it," she shouted. She pointed to a house on the left. There was a Nativity scene like none I'd ever seen. Mary had pigtails, Joseph had a ponytail and Jesus, well Jesus had dreadlocks. And behind the creche were two angels with electric guitars. "That's my favorite," she said.

There was a minute of silence. Then the woman in front spoke. "I kind of like it," she said. "Oh, and my name is Margaret. I live just a few blocks from here, but I've never seen that display. Thanks for showing it to me. Kate. Take a left at the next corner and then a right. My house is the third one from the corner, the one with the little tree in the window."

We pulled up to the house and Margaret got out. Kate hopped out, too, and hauled the suitcase up to the door. "Merry Christmas," Kate said.

"Thank you and Merry Christmas to you as well," Margaret replied.

* * * * *

Kate got back in the front seat. "Okay, that restaurant must be closed by now. So I guess I'll go home."

"it's not closed, so let's go," I answered, hoping that the restaurant would be open like in past years.

IT WAS almost 10 pm and nearly every store we passed had closed. Christmas Eve is one of the few times when nearly every place is closed, so anything still open really stands out. That was the case with the Chinese restaurant. We could see the glow of its sign from more than a block away on this night.

Kate was impressed that it was still open. "How do you know about this place?" she asked.

"Well," I said, "there have been some Christmases over the years when I have been alone. I mean I had places to go and stuff, but there was still a lot of time by myself.

I wondered what other people did who were alone on Christmas Eve. I started looking around for places where other people who were alone might go. This was one of the places I found, along with the Hard Times Cafe."

There were 15-20 people inside the restaurant that night. There was one table of four; two or three tables with couples; one with a dad and two children. The others were sitting alone.

One of the owners came up and said we could sit anywhere. She also told us that the buffet was still open. "That's my favorite," Kate said. So we headed over, grabbed plates and went through the line. We found a booth and settled in.

'YOU KNOW," Kate said, "I never thought about what happens to people who are alone on Christmas Eve. Or what people do if they don't celebrate Christmas. Thanks for bringing me along."

"Glad you could come," I said. "I like to have partners on these adventures. Say, did you know there's a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco which has a comedy night on Christmas Eve."

Kate laughed. "I don't believe you," she said. "You're making that up."

"No, I'm not," I said. "It's called Kung Pao Kosher Christmas -- Jewish comedians in a Chinese restaurant on Christmas Eve."

"We could do that here," Kate said. "I'm pretty funny and I want to be a comedian."

"Ah, please don't," I said.

"But before I finished the sentence, Kate had slipped out of our booth and pulled a chair out from one of the table. She climbed on the chair and started to talk: "Attention everyone. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Kung Pao," she said.

I wanted to crawl under the table. Or at least to say something like: "I'm not with her. I don't know who she is. She followed me into the restaurant." Kate could see I was uncomfortable, but that didn't stop her.

"I've got a couple of reindeer jokes," she said. "Where do you find reindeer? Depends on where you leave them. What do reindeer say before telling you a joke? This one will sleigh you."

By now Kate had the attention of everyone in the restaurant. "I have one more reindeer joke, then it's your turn," she said looking around the room. "Okay, what's the difference between a fortune cookie and a reindeer? You can't dunk a reindeer in your tea."

Then Kate looked over at me and said: "Okay, Tom, you're first." Luckily, I had one reindeer joke. "What did the dog say to the reindeer? Woof."

Kate groaned and asked if anyone else had any Christmas jokes. People did and they took turns telling their favorite Christmas jokes.

There were even a few Hanukkah jokes. Like this one: Name three reasons Hanukkah is better than Christmas? 1) No roof damage from reindeer. 2) You can use your fireplace on Dec. 24 3) There are no Donny & Marie Hanukkah specials.

After a few minutes, Kate switched to holiday songs. She led the people in the restaurant in several carols, closing with her slightly twisted version of Rudolph. After she finished, she said thank you and sat down. The people applauded.

It was now past 11 and the couple who owned the restaurant had started their closing routine. "Time to go," I said to Kate.

We went out into the night. A light snow had started to fall. "Hey, this is cool," Kate said, putting our her tongue to catch the snowflakes.

We got into my car and headed to Kate's house. "Sorry we never got to talking about your questions," I said.

"Oh," Kate said, "You've actually been answering my questions all evening. It seems like everything we did was about finding the Christmas spirit. It's almost liked you planned this for me. I feel much better and I learned a lot. I guess the big thing I learned from this evening is that you can't have the Christmas spirit yourself until you give it away to others."

Kate was quiet for a moment. Then she pointed out her house. "That one," she said.

She got out of the car, then poked her head back in. "You've got some great friends, "and I like that you share them. Say. what are you doing tomorrow?"

"I spend a part of each Christmas Day at a coffeeshop," I said. "If I'm in Minneapolis, it's at the Hard Times. If I'm in another city, I find some place like that."

"I'll join you at the Hard Times in the afternoon," Kate said. "Then later, will you come over to our house for Christmas dinner? And bring a couple of people from the Cafe along with you."
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Bill's Coffeeshop Newsletter is a virtual extension of Wild Bill's Coffeeshop and Uptown Bill's Coffee House. Published since 2000, the Newsletter is written by Tom Gilsenan, a former manager of Wild Bill's and now director of Uptown Bill's. You can write to him at tomgilsenan@gmail.com

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 12th 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. You can also donate online at the Uptown Bill's website: www.uptownbills.org

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