| | FICTION: JUVENILEWORKS |
CHRISTMAS IN JULY
BY J. ROBINSON WHEELER
THIS STORY never quite came together,although it remains to this day one of my favorite ideas. I'm not exactlysure why this is, but I can recall carrying the germ of the idea aroundfor quite a long time before I finally tried writing it in January of 1989.It was still one of the first of my old works to leap to mind when I startedcompiling this catalogue. Again, I'm not sure why this is, especially sinceit's still incomplete.
From my current perspective, it seems very much a PhilipK. Dick kind of short story. This is somewhat remarkable considering thatI never read Dick until October 1997. In writing it, all I really wantedto get to was the final line, which is a happy ending in a darkly, darklyironic way.
I doubt I'll ever finish developing it; I have always suspectedthat someone has already written this same story, somewhere. At least Iknow, for myself, that I came up with it on my own.
Sam Jones lived in a smallIllinois town called Smithtown (Smith-tun), along with a thousand or soothers. His family had its roots in the beginning settlement of Smithtown,but his parents had passed on and he lived alone in a small single apartmentoverlooking the downtown area. The streets were wide and most people usedthe sidewalks rather than cars, anyway. People prefered a simpler life there,and presence of such late 20th century items, like the automatic tellermachine at the bank, were merely Smithtown's polite nod to the "newtechnology" the rest of the world seemed to be on about so much, ratherthan a whole-hearted acceptance thereof. There was one main storein Smithown — Seaver's, located at 202 Deacon Avenue, operated todayby Thaddeus Charger, the great-grand nephew of Colin Seaver, the first manto open a general store years ago. Sam Jones had stopped by Seaver's onehot July 20th afternoon to purchase beer and a claw hammer. He wanderedup and down the aisles, whistling a golden oldie tune he'd heard on theradio that afternoon. Juggling the six-pack he'd picked out earlier underhis arm, Sam hefted a hammer to see if it suited him. He swung it up anddown a couple of times to judge its weight. The wood handle seemed to bea nice, solid handful. Tipping it upside down, he took a look at the pricetag, his eyebrows raising suddenly. Inflation! "Can't even buy a hammernowadays," he said to himself, "without having to withdraw yourlife savings!" An elderly woman, Mrs. Graf,overheard him as she passed the aisle on her way to the dairy case. Shenodded quietly to herself, the nod changing into a shake side-to-side. Sighing loudly, Sam tookthe beer and the hammer and headed for the front counter. Thad himself wasminding the register that day, and was lazily watching a black and whiteTV with the sound turned all the way down. "Howdy, Thad,"said Sam. "Howdy Sam," Thadechoed, stretching over to turn off the TV. He grunted a bit in the process,his belly getting in the way of whatever youthful limberness he rememberedonce having. Sam stared at the faded picturetube of the TV. "More news bulletins,huh?" Thad let a small breath ofair escape in what might have been a laugh. "Yeah, boy, I'll tellya. Can't hardly watch TV no more without being interrupted by this or that.Gettin' so's I've been turning the sound off during the news just to breakthe monotony." Sam looked sympathetic. "Yeah,I haven't turned my set on in a few days. Got tired of all this Middle Eaststuff they keep showing. If I hear one more newscaster talk about nuke-u-lardestruction..." He flustered a bit. "I've got better things toworry about! Like my door frame coming loose again." He plopped the hammer andthe beer onto the counter. Thad began to punch in thetwo prices on the cash register. "That thing come undone again?" The register clunked andpopped a price up into the little window. Sam grumbled and pulled his oldleather wallet from his back pocket. "Yeah, again. And myold hammer's had it." As Sam took a $10 bill from his wallet, he added,"Is that really the right price for that hammer?" Thad picked it up and eyedthe tag. "Yep, that's it. Seems kinda expensive to me, too. Hmm. Maybeit's time for a sale. There's no good excuse to have one, though." Sam smoothly slid the billback into his wallet and picked up the hammer. "Well if you're fixingto have a sale, I can wait." he said. Thad laughed a round, solidchuckle. He smoothed his graying hair back and re-punched the price on thecash register. "Okay... Still want the beer, Sam?" "You got it. I'll justput this hammer back." Sam turned and headed backto the hardware aisle, leaving Thad to chuckle again. Little droplets ofperspiration clung to the sides of the beer cans, lazily sliding down tothe countertop. It was just another hot summerday.
Sam's mind on the TV as soonas he got home. He casually pulled the knob into the on position on hisway past into the kitchen. He listened to the sound warming up as he pulledone beer out of its plastic ring and stored the other five in the refrigerator.Just as the sound, a strange high pitched beep, became audible, it diedoff again. At the same moment, the little light went out in his fridge andits cycling hum stopped. "Huh," Sam said. He tried opening and closingthe door a couple of times to see if that would help it any. It didn't.Shrugging, he closed the refrigerator door firmly, popped open the cool(but not cold) beer, and wandered over to his TV. The screen was blank andthere was no sound coming from its tiny speaker any more. A burst of deductivethought came to Sam, and he tried the lightswitch to test his theory. Hewas right. A power-out. "Sheoot." He slugged back a coupleof drinks of beer and made his way to the window, pushing it open with hisleft hand. Leaning out, he saw his downstairs neighbor, Harvey Deans, alsoleaning out and talking to someone down in the street. "Hey Harv!" hecalled out. Harvey craned his deeply-lined,sweaty face to look up at him. "Your power out too?"Sam asked. "Yeah! I was just talkingto Burt about it. His whole diner's out." "Must be a big-ol' fuseblown somewhere." "Yeah. Ah well, it'llprobably do us some good to get off electricity for a while. We've growntoo dependent, you know." Sam smiled. Harvey was anold man and hung on to some old traditions. He'd heard this one before. "Yeah, bet you're right.It's this heat, though. Can't keep my beer cold." "You shouldn't be drinkingthis early in the afternoon anyway," Harvey said. Sam pulled back into hisapartment. It was considerably darker inside, now that his eyes were usedto looking out. Stuffy, too. No electricity meant no air conditioning orfans. Sam took another sip of beer and went to his small bedroom to fetchthe portable radio. Strangely, it didn't work either. He tossed it downonto his rumpled bedsheets, deciding to look at it later or find some freshbatteries or something. Sam pulled a small woodenchair up next to the window and stared out into the burning white lightof the sunny July day, and wished for something to cool things down. "Snow," he saidmildly. "Sure would cool things down!" "Land sakes! Will youlook at that!" Mrs. Graf, one hand overher eyes, the other clutching her coat together, stared up at the dark cloudslooming overhead. People in the street bundled themselves up as best theycould as they passed. It had become quite cold and dark almost overnight.Local word was that it was going to snow. By five o'clock that afternoon,the first flakes fell.
The next day, the whole townwas busy. It was still very dark, but people were up and about, shovellingsnow, sharing hot chocolate, and the like. Sam Jones spread the word thatit was a white Christmas in July. He even went out and bought a few presentsfor some friends, planning to surprise them. Others picked up on this,and the whole town began to feel festive. On July 25, it was proclaimedan early Christmas, and a big bonfire roared in the town square. Peoplestood around the warm glow and watched the snow fall. Gifts were exchanged,carols sung. A little boy had a birthdaythat day, and people who didn't even know him well passed along some smallgifts in the spirit of the new holiday. A small cake was baked and 6 littlecandles lit with some difficulty. Everyone hushed as he made a wish andblew out all of the the candles. People cheered, even though they were onthe verge of snuffing out in the icy wind anyway, and laughed and sang somemore. A chorus of voices fumbled through the verses of "What Childis This" and "Silent Night." The spirit of good will waseverywhere. They hadn't even really missed their electricity, yet. Sam, who knew the boy's father,picked the lad up in one arm and wished him happy birthday. Staring at theroaring fire in front of him, he asked the little boy what he wished for. "Oh, I shouldn't say,it won't come true then," said the little boy. "Aw, that's just a myth.I bet it will come true anyway. Good wishes always do." The little boy seemed toaccept this, trusting Sam's warm smile. "Well," he said,catching a snowflake on the end of his nose. "I wished that it couldbe Christmas every day — a white Christmas — forever and ever!" People nearby cheered andlaughed happily, feeling so good that they, too, wished it would snow forever. And, happily ever after,it did. |