Click here to read Friends, Snowmen, Countrymen, Be of Good Cheer. A Tale of Christmas Time. (Part One.).

Click here to read Friends, Snowmen, Countrymen, Be of Good Cheer. A Tale of Christmas Time (Part Two).

Click here to read Friends, Snowmen, Countrymen, Be of Good Cheer, A Tale of Christmas Time (Part Three).

Part Four:  Who is Mister R.H.?

We left our friends Phil and Frankie after they had just discovered some very bright coveralls to keep them warm and dry so they can finish building a snowfamily for the little girl in the house next to Phil’s.  We rejoin them now as they  head back out into the snow.

“Frankie, there’s one more thing that’s bothering me.   I wish you would stop calling that girl at The Glass Slipper things like dish and hot number;  she  has a name you know.”

“I figured that out myself , but you haven’t told me her name. ”

“I know.  I’m trying to remember, but you know how terrible I am with people’s names.  It was a nice sounding name too, reminded me of one of my aunt’s.  Olivia, that was it.”

“Olivia?  You have an Aunt Olivia?”

“Yes and she’s a wonderful woman.”

“Olivia huh?  I went to school with a girl named Olivia, all the way from kindergarten through high school.  Nice kid too.  I had a crush on her since I was about twelve, but I was too shy to ever say anything.  I wonder whatever happened to her?  By now she’s probably married to some guy.  Lucky stiff.”

“Here we are, what do we do first?”

“Let’s work on making that base more round.  Here, give me a hand, we’ll roll it a couple more times, and then shape it.”

“All right.   Hey, this goes a lot easier with two people pushing.”

“What did I tell you?  We’ll have Papa here finished in no time, then get to work on Mrs. Snowman.”

“For all you know Frankie, this girl Olivia could be just as nice as the girl you went to school with, or just as wonderful as my aunt, but you talk about her like she is just an object; a dish, a hot number.   What happened to us Frankie?  No just you and I, but everyone:  you used to be a shy kid.  I used to paint just for the love of it.  That guy who bawled me out probably had dreams of building something great for other people when he was a kid.  What happened?”

“We grew up, Curly.”

“Sure, we grew up;  we outgrew some of our childish ways and learned how to get along in the big world, but something else happened Frankie, something that doesn’t have to be a part of growing up, but something people have come to expect and accept just as if it had to be.”

“I suppose we all just naturally get jaded.”

“Jaded ?  Is that another one you picked up from the crosswords?”

“Yeah, Jaded: a five letter word beginning with the letter J for weary, worldly, cynical.

“Cynical, there it is, what did I tell you Frankie?”

“I guess you’ve got something there Curly.”

“Yeah, and I want to unget it.”

“Did you say unget it?”

“Yeah, as in get unjaded and uncynical.  I think I’m finally starting to figure out what all this is leading to;  what I need to do.  If there were just some way I could tip myself over and pour all the cynicism out of me.”

“Sort of like emptying out a hot water bottle.”

“I guess so.”

“Then where would you be?”

“What do you mean, where would I be?”

“A hot water bottle only does any good when it has hot water in it.  Once you pour all the water out, it lays there flat.”

“All right then, I’ll get some new water.  Some fresh, clean, hot water”

“Where?”

“Well, I’ll just–say what do you mean?  You’ve got me going in circles, I’m not a piece of rubber, I’m a human being.”

“Don’t blame me, you’re the one who’s talking about tipping  yourself over and pouring things out.  Would you be happier if I had said a teapot?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just my darn trouble with words, and  I’m so close to having this figured out.”

“Why don’t you get your brushes and paints?”

“My brushes and paint?  How are they supposed to help me figure this out?”

“You said yourself you are better at expressing yourself with colors than words.”

“Yeah, I did say just that.  Colors Frankie, that’s the key.  Thanks for reminding me about the colors.”

“Always glad to help.  Now tell me what I did.”

“You happened to use the word jaded to describe what I was calling cynical, and jade is green, and green is a color.  See what you did?  So what kinds of emotions or personality traits are associated with the color green?” What comes to mind Frankie?”

“An emotion?  Associated with the color green?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, there’s the green-eyed monster, jealousy.”

“You got it.”

“And then there’s green with envy.”

“That’s another one.  And we can’t forget about cynical because of its relationship to jaded.  Now what are some of the same kinds of  things that go with  other colors?”

“Red usually goes with anger.”

“Good, good. Red, rage, anger.”

“Of course red is also the color of love, as in Valentine’s hearts and so on.”

“So it is. We’ll have to careful with red.  Here’s one:  purple is usually associated with pride.  That’s too bad, I really like purple.”

“Where’s all this going Curly?”

“It’s like this Frankie.  I want you to help me to think of all the different  emotions and personal qualities and such that can control a person’s life in terms of the colors associated with them.  Then, instead of trying to pour the cynicism out of myself and ending up like an empty hot water bottle,  I’ll just concentrate on painting my character with the colors associated with the goods things and washing away any of the colors associated with the bad things.”

“So you want to wash away the green and the purple, and be careful how you use red?”

“That’s it Frankie, you’ve got it!”

“And what colors are you going to replace them with?”

“Well, let’s think of some more positive ones besides love.  I know, how about true blue for honesty and steadfastness.”

“Yeah, but there’s also blue as in feeling the blues.”

” I’ll have to figure out just the right shade,  I want there to be plenty of blue, a strong, solid, trustworthy blue.  Here’s another good one,  gold as in heart of gold. “

“But not as in all that glitters is not gold.”

“Right again Frankie, don’t want any fools gold.  I’m after the genuine thing, the kind of gold that shines like the light of the sun or with some kind of divine beauty that illuminates a person from within.  And then, white.  White for purity.”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

“Purity of intent, purity of motive.  Unselfish giving, no strings attached.”

“Okay, throw in some white. Now what have you got?”

“A start, Frankie, a fresh start.”

“So after you wash away the green and the purple, where are you going to find just the ride shade of blue, and the genuine gold, and the white?”

“What do you mean where am I going to find them?”

” You want to get rid of the cynicism and pride, all right.  Where do you get the true  blue honesty and steadfastness, and the genuine heart of gold and the purity you’re talking about?  You can’t just walk into an art supply store for those you know.”

“You mean how do I know if I’m replacing pride and greed with things that are truly good and not just counterfeit?  You’ve got something there Frankie, I hadn’t thought of that.   It’s like you just said, there’s no supply store for virtue.”

“While you think that over, give me a hand with this torso, then we’ll lift the head on and Papa’s built.  I don’t suppose you have a carrot for the nose do you?”

“Not on me, and I’m fresh out of lumps of coal, at least until tomorrow.”

“Hey Curly, hold still for a moment.”

“What is it Frankie?”

“There’s some kind of lettering stenciled on the back of your suit.  I just noticed it.”

“What does it say?”

“Property of M-R-R- H.  Mister R.H.”

“That must be the initials of the guy who lived in the house before me.”

“Kind of strange, him having his clothes stamped like that.  Does it say the same thing on the one I’m wearing?”

“Turn around, let me look.  Yep, there it is all right: Property of M-R-R-H.”

“This Mister R.H. must have thought he was some kind of bigshot to have his initials stenciled on his hunting gear.”

“Yeah, or he really liked this stuff and didn’t want anyone to steal it.”

“What if someone comes along and thinks we stole them, or thinks we’re posing as this Mister R.H.?”

“Frankie, who would steal clothes like this?  You’d have to  be crazy to  want to wear something like this unless you were way out in the woods at hunting season.”

“Yeah, but we’re wearing them.”

“That’s different.  The owner left them behind, and we found them, we didn’t steal them; and we’re only going to wear them until we finish building this snowfamily.  Besides, anyone can tell that we’re not crazy.  And I know I at least don’t look like a thief.”

“Thanks a lot Inspector, what does that make me, the obvious criminal type?”

“You know I’m just fooling with you Frankie.  You look just as honest as I do.”

“Well, that’s some comfort.  I wonder what the initials R.H. stand for?”

“Could be lot’s of names.  Maybe Robert Harrison.”

“Or Roger Hornswoggler.”

“I say, Mr. Harrison, shall we resume?”

“Yes, Mr. Hornswoggler.  Let’s continue with the snowfamily.”

“I can’t handle being called  Hornswoggler, better stick with Babe.”

“All right, Babe, let’s get started on Mama’s base.”

“Let’s have at it, Mr. Bunyan.”

“Hey Curly,  I hate to show my jaded side so soon already, but take a look at this character crossing the street.”

“Why, what about him?”

“Take a look at that kisser, would you?  Did you ever see such a sour puss?”

“Quiet, he’ll hear you.”

“I know that look.  My shop teacher in seventh grade always gave us that look, even when we weren’t doing anything wrong.  I’ll bet he recognizes these jump suits and thinks we stole them.”

“All right Frankie.  Just calm down, we haven’t done anything wrong.  Better let me do the talking until we find out what he wants.  Good afternoon sir, and Merry Christmas.”

To be continued…

Click here to read Friends, Snowmen, Countrymen, Be of Good Cheer. A Tale of Christmas Time (Part5a)

 

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Notes on  first version:  As with Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head. I acknowledge a debt to the Golden Age of Radio for inspiration in the development of the story line and characters in this piece.  I would like to specifically mention the outstanding Phil Harris and Alice Faye Show  as the basis of the dynamic between the two friends to whom you have just been introduced.  In recognition of the inspiration provided by the Harris and Fay Show, I have named the characters Phil “Curly”, and Frankie, after Phil “Curly” Harris, as himself, and Frankie Remley, who was a real life musician in Phil’s band, but whose character on the show was played by Elliott Lewis.  I hope you shall meet a character named Alice a little later in the story.

To my lovely wife Sarah, thank you for your ongoing support, patience and encouragement.  Thank you for listening to my thoughts and ramblings.  I am grateful  for your feedback, input, and ideas, all of which I value and treasure.

To listen to or find out more about the great radio shows of the past,    I recommend Sirius/XM Radio Classics channel 148 ,   http://www.radiospirits.com  , or http://GregBellMedia.com.