“Christmas is coming!” said an old man from a street corner near London’s Tower Bridge. “Please put a penny in an old man’s hat!” Several passersby dropped coins into his hat. “The geese are getting fat, and I’ve got to buy Christmas dinner.
If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do. Something is better than nothing! Bless a poor old man like me.”
The old man had been standing on the street corner all morning in the blistering cold winter with his hat.
In between asking for pennies, he belted out Christmas carols, thinking that it would attract more charity.
“This is for you,” said a beautiful woman with long, golden hair. Her face glowed, and she emptied her purse into his hat.
A trail of snow that looked like diamonds followed her as she walked, and the gems blew in the wind.
“God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day,” he sang in a deep baritone voice. “To save us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray. O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy, O tidings of comfort and joy.” After he finished the first verse, he kept going for six more.
Now the mistake was to think that the charity was for him. In fact, it was for the family next door to him.
Although the old man had no family, he was more concerned for his neighbors than he was about himself.
The father had been out of work for more than six months, watching over his sickly son, who would likely die any day. The mother had passed away from tuberculosis a few years ago during a very hard winter, and the boy had lost hope.
So, the old man had decided that a toy soldier and trumpet were not enough to give the child—there must also be a goose.
“If you haven’t got a ha’penny, God bless you,” he called to the busy people on the sidewalk carrying packages.
People dropped a penny here, and a ha’penny there. One after the other, they added up, and his efforts amounted to much.
After several hours of singing on the street corner, the old man had enough money to buy a goose for his neighbors.
While walking home through Trafalgar Square, he tossed the money in his pocket and placed the black top hat on his head. He admired the Christmas tree in the Square with carolers circled about it sipping hot chocolate and spiced apple cider.
On Christmas Eve morning, he set out for Portobello Market in West London for two brilliantly fat Christmas geese: one for himself and one as a gift. Indeed, it would be hard to pick the geese. As lovely as their feathers looked, they must be plucked before cooking. Sometimes, the feathers could be used for a soft pillow for a bed or an armchair.
“Come here goosey!” the old man said, chasing after the largest goose at the Village Butcher. “Oh, you can’t get away!”
After he caught the first goose, he was in a quandary about choosing a second goose, being that the remaining geese at the shop were much smaller. He wished he could find a larger goose for his neighbors, but his options were limited.
“Ouch!” he said, grabbing the closest goose next to him as its feathers poked him in the eye. “I’ve got you now!”
Noticing its golden-colored feathers, he thought it was the best of the group. Its coat almost sparkled.
As the old man walked home with the geese swung over his shoulders, he debated which goose to give to the neighbors.
“I think I’ll give the golden goose as the gift,” the old man said. “I’ll cook the large goose and share the leftovers.”
Happy the geese would provide a hearty Christmas meal the next day, he penned the birds up in the kitchen with helpings of grass. Then he grabbed his coat and top hat and went to Christmas Eve service at All Souls Church in Langham Place.
The church towered next to the British Broadcasting Corporation, which played Christmas carols on the radio all day.
“Therefore, the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel,” the minister said, reading from the pulpit. “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
After the service, the old man spotted his neighbors a few pews in front of him, looking less than festive.
“Merry Christmas Eve!” the old man said to the neighbor boy. “Early Christmas morning, I will visit you with surprises!”
“We could use a few surprises,” the boy’s father said, as his son buried his face in his father’s wool coat.
“A penny for your thoughts!” the old man said to the boy who quietly cried. “Now then, it’s going to be the finest Christmas ever. Keep my hat if you’d like. It looks like it’s just your size,” he said, putting his hat on the boy’s head.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy’s father said, taking his son’s hand and walking out of the church.
The old man decided to sit in the pew for a bit, admiring the sanctuary decorated with holly, candles, and garland.
As he sat in the pew, the church emptied—all except for one beautiful woman with long, golden hair and diamond jewels.
“Don’t I know you?” the old man asked. “I think we met when I was collecting pennies at the Tower Bridge.”
“I’ve seen what you’ve been doing for that boy,” she whispered to him. Then she sat down next to him in the pew.
“Your generosity will save his life, and he will not leave his father alone at Christmas for the years to come,” she said.
“Your hat will protect him from the blistering winter wind, and the goose will be his new best friend.”
“Pardon me, but who are you?” the old man said. “How do you know that? It was just a hat. Too big for his head.”
When the old man blinked, she disappeared, and he felt as though he was speaking to a ghost—or maybe an angel.
“Where did you go? I know I wasn’t seeing things. You were definitely sitting here with me,” the old man said.
“Well, I don’t know how I am going to save the boy’s life. Are you an angel? Aren’t you supposed to do that?”
As the man walked home through the snow that night, his bare head felt cold, so he wrapped his scarf extra tight.
He would need to buy himself a new hat for Christmas, now that the little boy was wearing his hat instead of him.
The next morning, the old man woke up with the sunrise and plucked the feathers out of the largest goose.
Then he shoved him in the oven and seasoned him with black pepper, salt, paprika, dark brown sugar, and dried rosemary.
However, he wrapped a bright red bow on the golden goose and grabbed the toy solider and trumpet for the neighbor boy.
“I hope they’re already awake,” the old man said, knocking on the neighbor’s door. “Merry Christmas!” he called.
The neighbor boy opened the door wearing the old man’s hat. “It’s just my size,” the little boy said, covering both eyes.
As the goose waddled into the neighbor’s house, the little boy threw his arms around him, giggled, and laughed.
“We can just cook him up and eat him for Christmas dinner!” the father said, clapping his hands together.
“Father, he’s my new pet!” the little boy said. “We can’t eat him! His feathers are so soft. I could use him for a pillow.”
“Don’t worry, I have another goose cooking,” the old man said, as the little boy’s father sighed. “Let them be friends.”
“Are these for me?” the little boy said, noticing the toy solider and trumpet. He grabbed the trumpet and blew it hard.
Then the old man looked out the window and spied the beautiful woman from the church as she walked down the street.
“Merry Christmas!” the old man said, swinging open the front door, but the woman had vanished before he could find her.
All that remained was a trail of sparkling snow that resembled perfect diamonds. The wind blew them toward the old man, and at first, he thought they were icicles. He caught them in his hand, not realizing they were actual diamonds until they felt hard as rocks and would not melt. In awe, he put them in his pocket, whispering a prayer of thanksgiving.
“Just thought I spotted a friend out the window!” the old man said to the boy. “Must be too much snow and ice!”
In the weeks ahead that passed, the Christmas Goose and the little boy became such good friends that the little boy never felt sick again. There was something magical about the goose. In fact, it lay dozens of goose eggs, more than would be expected. And as legend has it, when no one was looking, the goose even laid a golden egg, or two, or three, or even four.
As for the diamonds, they turned out to be real, and the old man had no explanation other than the beautiful woman was an angel. Of course, only an angel would know how icicles become diamonds, but the diamonds were enough money for the father to take care of his son and himself and remarry a beautiful wife. All because an old man with a hat asked for pennies during Christmas.
Copyright 2016 Jennifer Waters
No comments:
Post a Comment