Christmas Spirit, No Charge

Today's Track: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas--Bing Crosby

It's finally autumn again. And you can always tell, can't you? Maybe it's the chill in the air, or maybe its the blaze of color that erupts in the trees. Or maybe it's the first ludicrously overpriced ceramic Jesus of the year.
I ran into this fabled harbinger of the approaching holiday season this morning. My mother had suffered a minor automotive malfunction in the parking lot of a small store near her home. Accordingly, I had gone round to offer what assistance I could, mostly in the form of standing around with my hands in my pockets, staring at various nondescript engine bits and exercising my Frowny Knowledgeable Face. One of us arrived at the conclusion, after about half an hour, that, obviously beneficial though this technique was, the results left a great deal to be desired. Following the age-old mechanic's creed--"When in doubt, use jumper cables"--I arrived at the conclusion that what was required was a simple electrical augmentation. The route by which I arrived at this conclusion is in and of itself quite an adventure, encompassing such far-flung logical vagaries as the make and model of the vehicle, my own stockpile of mechanical diagnostic data, atmospheric conditions, and the fact that had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Accordingly, I set off in search of a pair of said cables. Those of you who have had some experience in this procedure will of course know that no fewer than three major laws of science forbid the existence of a pair of jumper cables inside any given vehicle unless it can be mathematically proven that there is no chance of their being needed. So of course the first place I thought to look was inside the small store, thinking that some of the patrons might be in possession of something which would, if not help, at least allow me to appear more helpful myself. I attracted the attention of some of the customers, though as soon as I appraised them I lost any real hope of acquiring assistance. To my eye, they appeared, to a one, to be older women of the Bible-thumping, bingo-playing variety. Such specimens, while quite passable as human beings, are notoriously unprepared for mechanical malfunctions. And, no, the irony of that is not at all lost on me, thank you very much. One of their number insisted that I wait about while she wrapped up some pressing bit of business involving, as near as I could determine, several minutes of mindless nattering about an upcoming garage sale or something like. In the meantime, I decided to examine some of the wares. This was, I now believe, rather a mistake. Among the items I saw in my perfunctory inventory of the place were:

• A five-foot "Christmas tree" which consisted of a hunk of pine timber to which several plastic pseudo-spruce boughs had been stapled.
  
• A profusion of what I can only assume were candles, which seemed, inexplicably, to have had evergreen needles incorporated in their construction. As to whether or not this constituted a fire hazard, I know not.
• Piles upon piles of semi-microscopic Christmas tree ornaments, which I assume were meant to be deployed by means of a set of tweezers.
  
• A mound of small, frilly ribbon-like objects, whose true purpose I was afraid to guess; And of course:
  
• A six-inch ceramic replica of Jesus Christ, complete with what appeared to be imitation rouge highlights on His cheeks.

Nothing really says 'pious, holy reverence' like imported Taiwanese figurines, eh? Almost puts me in the mood to sing Christmas carols...
Anyway, I finally decided that no help was forthcoming. I made my way toward the door, and had almost made my escape when I was accosted by the same insistently helpful woman who I was certain had long since forgotten me. Neither she nor any of the store's other three occupants had any jumper cables, naturally. So I was, at length, directed to the token hardware section of the store, which occupied approximately thirteen cubic inches, and--again, quite naturally--contained no jumper cables. After offering my thanks for her help, I extricated myself from the presence of the woman, and not a moment too soon, as I reckon it. She had, during the last few moments, she'd begun to exude the unmistakable aura of an impending "grandchildren" story. I wet back to the parking lot and broke the news to my Mother. Eventually we went back to my house and found my own personal set of jumper cables, which, when properly applied, immediately failed to function.
She made it back home safely, and I am certain my Father has since attended to the problem, relying on his uncanny skill for ignoring a problem so intently that it literally ceases to exist, and thus getting the vehicle back into something approaching normal service. I've now determined that my jumper cables are, to put it politely, approximately as useful as the Vice President. But I'll keep them handy in any case, because you never want to be caught without a pair.
And now I think I need to go commune with the Son of God. Looks as though he needs dusting again...