The Christmas Sandwich

by | Dec 17, 2025 | Holidays

All the warmth and wonder of Christmas isn’t found under the tree, in a manger, or even in the eyes of a child. I would like to believe Christmas is a season that brings out the inner beauty of us all, even in the most unlikely of places.

The first major snowfall of the season was expected within the next twelve hours, and the temperature would soon be dropping into the single digits. It was getting dark, and I had just finished my last in a long line of errands … buying a box of religious cards for Mom. Even with her failing eyesight, she never missed an occasion and, of course, Christmas was extra special. My marching orders were clear: they had to say both Christmas and God or Jesus in the text and must have an angel, the Wise Men, or the Holy Family pictured on the face. I had met all criteria for the cards but, as luck would have it, not for my lunch. I had missed that altogether. No wonder my stomach was snarling at me in some foreign tongue!

Fortunately, right next to the card store was one of those cookie-cutter submarine sandwich shops … you know, the one where the guy on TV ate nothing but subs for six months and became an individual instead of a group? It was either that or the Italian sausage place with grease-frosted plate glass windows; I opted for cold cuts. There were only a few customers scattered about the shop, and a rather purposeful-looking Black gentleman standing a few feet back from the counter, carefully considering the menu just above the pictures of tomatoes, cucumbers, and bread on the wall. He was probably in his fifties, wore a well-chewed mustache, navy knit cap, and a respectably soiled brown winter jacket.

I excused myself as I crossed in front of him, but he never broke his concentration. “Turkey, Black Forest ham, and Swiss on Italian,” I told the sandwich wench. The bread was probably a holdover from my fleeting thoughts of the sausage place. She added some fixin’s, chips and soda—then asked if I wanted anything else. She had to ask twice because, by now, I was asfocused upon the man memorizing the menu as he was upon his sandwich selection. It didn’t look like this was an everyday thing for him.

A few minutes after I sat down, he finally made his choice, smiled quietly, and settled-in two booths in front of me. After taking a few bites, his gaze became riveted to the television mounted on the wall a few feet away. He was nearly unblinking during the news … but when the weather came on, it seemed to create a conflict between eating and watching the parade of maps and snowfall predictions flashing across the screen. When my distant dining companion was finished, he carefully crumpled and tossed his trash, refilled his cup, and produced a previously unseen (by me) shopping cart from behind a half wall near the soda machine. It was full, I guessed, of pretty much everything the man owned. As he reached the door he stopped, turned around, removed his cap, and placed it respectfully over his heart. Speaking through a broad toothy smile, in a clear deep voice, he said, “I want to wish everyone the Lord’s blessing and a very Merry Christmas. Thank you.” With that, he replaced his cap, pressed his cart through the door, and was gone.

As I headed for my car I could feel the air had grown colder, with that damp chill that bites your bones just before a snowstorm. Suddenly I noticed a figure wearing a well-chewed mustache, navy knit cap, and a respectably soiled brown winter jacket, sifting through the contents of his wire suitcase under a parking lot lamp. I went over to him and asked, “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” He smiled, the quiet smile this time, and replied, “I have a good spot all picked out.” I offered him a couple of Abe Lincolns together with my own Christmas wish. Still smiling, but this time speaking with a note of pride in his tone, he said, “Sir, I’ll accept your kind words and be grateful for them, and your prayers are always welcome, but I never accept money from anyone unless I’ve worked for it.” Then, looking at an invisible watch he continued, “And it’s after five o’clock!” With that he offered a wink, wheeled his cart around, and disappeared into the darkness.

Turkeys ‘n’ Pilgrims

by | Nov 26, 2025 | Holidays

Little Randy had filled himself to the brim with turkey and
stuffing and family good cheer. After reaching his quota of pats
on the head from old maiden aunts and exclamations of “My,
how big you’re getting!” from other well-meaning relations, he
put on his coat and escaped to the rolling hills out behind the
house. He had not been to Grandma’s in a long time, and had
forgotten how much fun it was to roam the fields and make up
adventures that grown-ups would never understand.

He had, also, forgotten about the ominous dark building at the
very top of the tallest hill, which he imagined to be the ship of a
seafaring explorer tossing upon the waves. Sometimes the clang
of a bell would echo across the glen that separated the imaginary
ship from the imaginary shore on which he stood. Cupping his
hands around his eyes as if peering through binoculars, Randy
focused on the double arched doors at the front of the structure
and tried to get a clearer view. Maybe he could catch a glimpse
of the captain or see if the crew was permitted Thanksgiving
rations as they tirelessly manned the sails.

All of a sudden, one of the doors swung open, and out
marched a group of unusual-looking people dressed in black
bonnets, starched white collars, and long dark robes. Randy was
shocked! He never really expected to see anyone—it was just
pretend. But the whole procession was now headed precisely in
his direction! He turned quickly and stumbled down the hill.

“Mama, Mama, the Pilgrims are coming, the Pilgrims are
coming!” he shouted as he ran.
He burst into the house.
“What’s the matter?” his mother asked with a concerned
voice and a curious look.
“The Pilgrims are coming, Mama!” repeated little Randy.

She put her arm over his shoulder and hurried to the
window. They parted the curtains just in time to see a group
of nuns from the abbey on the hill passing by on their afterdinner
constitutional.
Randy is Vigi’s kid brother, and The Pilgrim Story is one of
her favorite Thanksgiving memories from childhood. He was
only three or four at the time and today sports more than a bit
of gray around the gills, like so many of us … but it’s the family
times that offer the most vivid memories of this festive holiday.

There are, on the other hand, those downers who prefer to
stir politics into the stuffing or even rehash the atrocities
purportedly committed as settlers moved west. Me? I wasn’t
around back then to harm anyone. The only atrocity I ever
committed on Thanksgiving involves turkey, stuffing, two
kinds of potatoes, cranberry sauce, and a few notches let out in
my belt to make room for Vigi’s fresh-baked lemon meringue,
pumpkin, and apple pies. It’s a celebration of life and plenty—a
purely American holiday made for gatherings with family and
friends. It’s also a time for reflection and for gratitude.

I live in a terrific home sharing a wonderful life with an
incredible lady. While we’ve had some rough patches, and each
of us has slipped a few times down a health-threatening slope,
we’re here to talk about it. I’ve known the joy of children, the
sweet smell of success, and bounced back from the bitter taste
of failure. I have good friends. I may not be wealthy, but I am
rich. I have no regrets.

On Thanksgiving I choose to celebrate and give thanks for
these things, and for being blessed with more than any man
has a right to. If anyone wants to complain about controversial
matters that have been rewritten a thousand times—and
probably never once accurately—the best I can do is point
him toward the window and tell him to keep watch for the
Pilgrims … but first, please pass the gravy

An Elephant Is Like A Tree

by | Jan 24, 2024 | Stuff

     Thumbing through “The People Puzzle” and merely reading a chapter here or a chapter there, is like the proverbial three blind men trying to describe an elephant.  The first one, touching the trunk, says an elephant is like a snake; the second one, grasping the tail, says an elephant is like a rope;  the third guy, clutching a leg, says an elephant is like a tree.  As with the elephant, there’s so much more to the book that it’s hard to come up with an accurate assessment until you’ve read the whole thing … otherwise you miss a lot of stuff inbetween.

     Some readers have said “The People Puzzle” is a love story, while others relate to the nostalgia and descriptions of a simpler, gentler time.  There are even those who say they actually like to quote some of the philosophy.   Well, guess what?  Unlike the three blind men describing the elephant, they’re all right!  There’s something enjoyable for everyone between those covers.  The ‘label’ says Memoir, but the publisher and I danced around Philosophy, Family, Humor, Relationships, Nostalgia –– and a few other tunes –– before taking the final step to the all-encompassing stand-by, Memoir.

Folks who started at the front of the book, instead of at the back, get it:

•  “I cannot adequately put into words how much this book affected me.  First, and foremost, it is a beautiful love story.  Some parts I literally laughed out loud and some parts I cried. His style of writing is like having him personally speaking with me.” –– Nora W.

•  “He is a master of storytelling” –– Jean H.

•  “It’s clever, insightful, and entertaining. I’m really enjoying it.” –– Dr. Stuart S.

•   “I Loved the book. Funny, touching, and spot-on slices of life so wonderfully articulated.” –– Robert B.

•  “Relaxing, funny, wholesome, and endearing.  I see my face in his mirror.” –– Jon S.

•  “The People Puzzle” has many passages I like to have on hand to borrow and quote.” –– William H.

•  “I started reading it and couldn’t stop. Many chuckles and so inspiring.” –– Patricia Z.

•  “Magnificent reminder of a more austere era. Fred’s writings recall the uproariousness of Goodman Ace [humorist, radio and TV writer] and S.J. Perelman [humorist and screenwriter, known for his humorous short pieces].” –– Noah F.

•  “Fred’s book changed my life. It made me realize so many things I used to enjoy, like my art and my music, and inspired me to get back to them.” –– Connie P.

When you’re ready to experience a friendly arm around your shoulder, and immerse yourself in “Things We Do That Say We’re Human” … get it, and start reading “The People Puzzle” from the front!

 

Oy, the Joy of Christmas

by | Dec 22, 2023 | Holidays

The high school I occupied during my preadult period was nearly 90 percent Jewish. When many of the more important Hebrew holidays were celebrated, like in September and October, they actually consolidated as many as three or four classes for any given subject into a single room. Even with that arrangement, I was one of only a tiny handful of students in there. We had a lot of fall study halls back then.

Hanukkah was different because it usually seemed to coincide pretty closely with Christmas and everybody was off from school—even the kids who celebrated holidays with names most of us never heard of. In those days, you were either a Christian or a Jew and nobody was offended by wishes of “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Hanukkah,” even if you got it wrong. In my neighborhood, the Christmas tree and the menorah lived side by side. In fact, a few Jewish people I knew celebrated both occasions.

When I was nibbling at the edges of eleven or twelve, I remember my friend Carl proudly inviting me over to see his Hanukkah bush! At the time, I didn’t see why it was such a big deal. I mean, by any other name a Christmas tree is still a Christmas tree, right? As I came to understand later, Carl’s family was more the exception than the rule. I used to feel sorry for the Jewish kids at Christmastime. There we were, laughin’ and scratchin’ with our new bikes, scooters, skates, and Flexible Flyers from Santa Claus, and those kids had nothing. They just stared at all our stuff and marveled at our big, broad grins.

By the time I got to high school, three revelations replaced my pity. First of all, I discovered that Jewish kids got presents for Hanukkah just like the rest of us did for Christmas, only at a slightly different time, and without benefit of a jolly old elf to deliver them. Second, they not only celebrated their own holidays, but Christian ones too—which meant they had twice as much time off from school as the rest of us! Finally, and most important of all, I came to know it isn’t the glitter that matters—it’s the substance.

Particularly where Christmas is concerned, I hear a lot of grousing about “the commercialism, the stress, and the spending” that has become such an integral part of the holiday. I’ve even read articles about people opting out of the celebration altogether. It’s sad that some confuse the tangible with the spiritual, the shopping mall with the manger, and that for them the glitz and glitter have become the traditional way to celebrate. Many view Christmas itself as a tradition rather than the historically significant occasion it represents. Christmas contains traditions the same way the Fourth of July has fireworks, but its true meaning goes far beyond mere repetition, even over a couple of hundred centuries.

By the way, for those who advocate beginning “a new tradition,” whether to do with Christmas or something else, by definition it’s a conflict in terms. Declaring a practice to be a tradition without first having it reoccur over a reasonable period of time is like planning the wedding before you have a bride!

Oddly enough, in their determination to avoid the potential hassle and increasing expense, people are rediscovering the magic instead of the frustrations of the season. Rather than store-bought gifts, which she can’t afford, one single mom I know has her kids write letters to each other that they’ll open on Christmas morning. She says, “We’re going to tell each other what we love about our family. And that’s it.” There is nothing wrong with giving a homemade present, a letter, a song, or some other form of personal expression. In fact, there’s everything right with it, and often, recipients prefer such gifts! Do you suppose the pioneers hitched up the ol’ Conestoga and rolled out to the mall to pick up a last-minute something for the kids—or might they have had to use a little imagination?

Some of my most cherished memories are connected with Christmas. To me, it would be unthinkable not to drink of the joy that is to be found at this wonderful time of year, especially if you are willing to color just a little outside the lines. I can’t imagine not celebrating Christmas, any more than I can imagine a clean-shaven Santa or a child without a toy. Christmas or Hanukkah, Christian or Jew, at the end of the day it really doesn’t matter how you celebrate or what you believe—it only matters that you do!

Thanksgiving Gravy

by | Nov 23, 2023 | Holidays

     First, let me state categorically that everyone has something to be thankful for, even if it’s only still being around to air their latest gripe and have somebody handy to listen. If my buddy Bob could have seen me steering my way through one particular Thanksgiving feast, he would have said, “Look at him, sittin’ there fat and happy!” and he would have been right. If one can strut while occupying a chair, clutching an overburdened fork in one hand and a gravy-soaked dinner roll in the other, then I was strutting.

     The reason my chest was puffed up bigger than the turkey’s wasn’t so much the incredible meal, meticulously prepared by my incredible bride of some thirty-three Thanksgivings at that point, or even the fact that I was surrounded by a small gaggle of kids and grandkids, only one of whom managed to spill anything that would repattern the tablecloth. It wasn’t even having my mom, then easing her way toward ninety-four, raising a glass of wine with us and providing a toast in her parents’ native Slovak. It was something much bigger, yet so small I don’t think anyone else even noticed.

     Vigi had heaped the table with every imaginable Thanksgiving delight, to the point of overflow onto a convenient sideboard. With appropriate gratitude offered to the Lord, and before I could even warn my taste buds, I found myself the salivating recipient of the turkey platter—then the mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, and so forth. Without so much as a word between them, my two sons (at my immediate left) collaborated to see that I was the first to receive each serving plate, before anyone else! Of course Vigi (to my immediate right) was next … then the rest. The organizational chart says that I’m head of the family, but frequently, as the years whizzed by at warp speed, I wondered whether anyone had ever read it.

     This gesture of respect was never taught to them, nor ever demanded … any more than I could have demanded the love that was so clearly behind it. At a time of life when many of my achievements seemed to feel as though they were authored by some phantom, and self-doubt often interrupted reason, these two characters elevated me to the level of King Arthur himself, presiding at the Round Table! It never happened before, and may never happen again, but the only way they can fully grasp the importance of their act is to be blessed with such a moment themselves. I wish that for them both.

     As the meal progressed, I looked and listened with growing pride to the conversational ebb and flow of four family generations—giggles, eye rolls, and all. The little girls were now young women on the verge of accomplishing great things, my boys were beginning to sport the slightest touches of gray as middle age nibbled at their hairlines, and even Vigi’s sumptuous feast paled a bit in the glow of the royalty consuming it.

     Most parents do the best they can to raise their children properly, to instill a traditional value system and an ethical sense of right and wrong. You may have noticed kids don’t come with an instruction manual and most people that have written books about them don’t seem to have any of their own. With so many potent outside forces that shape who these new adults become once they’ve graduated from home, all that remains is the hope you did something right along the way. When the table is cleared and dishes are done, the things for which to be truly thankful are the ones like this, that let you know you did.