Only a Christmas Tree

Only a Christmas Tree

Only a Christmas Tree By Rand Hunter Kreycik “Here’s your paycheck, Pete.”  Isaac handed his warehouse supervisor the slip of paper that represented two weeks’ labor.  “There’s a little extra … you know … for the Holidays.  Sorry it’s not more.  Business has been slow … you know ….” Pete nodded and took the check.  “Things haven’t exactly been flying off the warehouse shelves this winter,” he agreed. Audio: Only A Christmas Tree, Part 1 http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Only-a-Christmas-Tree-Part-1.mp3 Audio: Only A Christmas Tree, Part 2http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Only-a-Christmas-Tree-Part-2.mp3 Audio: Only A Christmas Tree, Part 3http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Only-a-Christmas-Tree-Part-3.mp3 Audio: Only A Christmas Tree, Part 4http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Only-a-Christmas-Tree-Part-4.mp3 Audio: Only A Christmas Tree, Part 5http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Only-a-Christmas-Tree-Part-5.mp3 Audio: Only A Christmas Tree, Part 6http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Only-a-Christmas-Tree-Part-6.mp3 Audio: Only A Christmas Tree, Part 7http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Only-a-Christmas-Tree-Part-7.mp3 Isaac shuffled awkwardly.  “Well, have a good Christmas!”  He tried to smile, but it was unconvincing. “You too.”  Self-conscious, Pete moved toward the warehouse door. “Good Christmas!” he muttered.  “This will barely pay the bills, let alone buy gifts.”  Pete had been a frustrated man for some time, and the dam of his discouragement broke loose as he got into his rusty pick up truck.  Without warning, hot tears filled his dark-circled blue eyes.  He pounded the steering wheel, turned the key, and listened to the click-click of the starter he couldn’t afford to replace. Wiping his flannel sleeve across his eyes and nose, he stepped out, grabbed a hammer from behind the seat, raised the creaking hood, and rapped on the starter.  Climbing back in, he turned the key again, and with relief heard “gr-rr-rr” as the engine fired to life.  Grinding the pickup into gear, Pete pulled out of...
Another Dance

Another Dance

Another Dance By Eduardo Delgado It was in the summer of ’43 that I was somewhere in the Pacific.  We had been moving around from island to island, so that after a few islands I didn’t pay much attention to where we were.  I do remember the white coral, topless coconut trees and the land crabs that came out all night, crawling all over the island . . . Audio: Another Dance Part 1http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Another-Dance-Part-1.mp3 Audio: Another Dance Part 2http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Another-Dance-Part-2.mp3 I was nineteen, had two years of the war behind me and only God knew how many more would be ahead.  In those days I didn’t think about things in general.  After all, how much of a future was there to think about in times like that?  I joined the Navy in ’41, with all kinds of ideas on how I was going to win the war.  I got six to eight weeks of boot camp.  The next thing I knew I was in Astoria, Oregon in a PBY squadron. Within a month we headed for Alaska, arriving at Dutch harbor for our first lesson on Japanese style early morning call: “Air Raid”.   But like I said, that was two years ago. Now I’m down under, basking in the sun, dodging a few bullets.  A new squadron, new buddies, new SBD5 planes, faster than the PBY flying coffins . . .  Now here it is, 3 a.m., and I’m getting ready for the morning dawn patrol.  After a few routine flights of nothing but blue sky and ocean water everywhere, with the warm sun beating down on me I would...