A Christmas Odyssey©
A Gradowith© Short Story©
H. L. Gradowith©
A Nine-And-A-Half-Finger Production©
Foreword
The following story is basically true,
only some details added or omitted due to failing memory deviating from the
actual events. It chronicles a real
trip the author made in 1982 – his first Christmas after graduating high
school. It is offered for your pleasure
and is fictionalized form – that is, no names are mentioned and it is told as
though every detail were fixed in the author’s memory perfectly. Though based on (and in the main actually)
fact, just read it as a story and enjoy…
H. L. Gradowith
Enon
A Christmas Odyssey
Introduction
He was coming home for the holidays –
as he always tried to do for each holiday -- and usually succeeded, as much
from his own desire to be there as from the desire to satisfy the longing for
his presence by those already there. He
liked the people and the presents and the food and the idea of being home for
Christmas. Christmas was never a
religious celebration in his family – though some of them were religious. It was a family time. A special couple of days set aside for
time-honored rituals that just couldn’t be broken or altered. In fact, Christmas any other way was just
out of the question – not even considered.
Each particular set of relatives had their time for their celebration
and everyone just went there when they were supposed to and no one ever thought
of changing or missing or messing with what had worked so well for so
long. He was there for Thanksgiving and
he would be there for Christmas.
When he moved to college in Florida, over five
hundred miles from his Northeast Arkansas home, he thought that being home for
Christmas would be no problem – after all, it wasn’t as if he had moved to
Alaska, Florida would have nice weather all the time. He hadn’t planned, though, on the weather in Arkansas, and this
year that was to prove problematic.
And, as we shall presently see, the weather was only part of the problem
– a big enough part, but by no means the only memorable thing about this
Christmas Odyssey.
Chapter One
The Trip That Almost Didn’t
Happen
It was Thursday morning and he had
asked for permission to leave school early so that he might make his ten- to
twelve- hour trip and arrive in time to get at least part of a good nights
sleep before the holiday rituals got underway.
Getting out of classes early – even for a trip home for Christmas – was
no easy matter. He was kept waiting all
the way up to the time for the trip and even as he packed his bags early that
morning before reporting to class he had received no definite word about his
request. In the end, though, the
request was granted; as much from concern for the safety of an
eighteen-year-old traveling so long a distance as from any holiday sentiment –
or so he thought as he received the permission he sought.
He left Pensacola at about eleven A.M. with the
temperature in the upper thirties and a fairly steady rain falling. In the back of his mind he knew that the
farther north he went the colder the weather would be, but he hoped that at
least the rain would stop. Having been
raised in the hills of Northeast Arkansas he was accustomed to snow and even
ice – but basically he only knew that if it snowed and you didn’t absolutely
have to be out you didn’t leave the house.
As for ice, he knew that if there was ice on the road you didn’t get out
even if you absolutely had to… Living
where it snowed didn’t really benefit him a lot, but everyone spoke of it as
thought there was some magical advantage to having lived in snow-country so he
just took it in stride. It never dawned
on him that even people who had lived in much colder climates than the one in
which he was raised had accidents on snowy roads.
All the planning behind him, he set out on his trip
home for the holidays. He had made the
trip enough to require no map. In his
mind each intersection at which he would change highways was clearly depicted. He saw the businesses, the road signs, the
landmarks, the state border signs – and most of all, he saw home. He intended to make only such stops as were
necessary for the trip and thus he planned to arrive in ten-and-one-half or
eleven-hours. He would need food and
gasoline, both of which he could usually get at the same place and while there
he could use the facilities and he had been told that at 60 miles-per-hour each
minute you were off the interstate equaled three minutes of travel time: one minute for being there, one minute that
you would have gone had you not stopped, and one minute to make up the time you
lost. He wasn’t sure exactly how that
worked out, or even if it worked out; but he believed it and used it to rush
the journey every time.
He decided to get a bite to eat in Milton, FL and
that would do him well maybe as far as Mississippi. He pulled in to the parking lot of a local diner and, when he
turned the engine in his 1977 Chevrolet El Camino off he heard something that
didn’t sound just right. When he looked
under the hood he saw what it was – a busted water pump. At all of eighteen years of age he was more
than a little upset at the development, but by no means willing to allow it to
prevent his trip. He went inside and
sat at the lunch counter and ordered a sandwich. A couple of mechanics from a local garage were there and when he
explained his problem to them they told him that it would take about three
hours to get the part and another one or two hours to get to it and actually
repair it. Five hours at the
earliest! That would never do. He indicated as much to the mechanics and
they told him that he could theoretically make the journey just fine if he
would fill the radiator up with water now and not shut the engine off again
until he reached his destination. That
was all he needed – he ate his sandwich, filled the radiator, and set out for
what would prove to be an unforgettable evening.