Gift of the Oregon Homeless Magi (Part 3)

Reader, by now you must be wondering how James and Della became homeless. It could have been one or more of the following reasons:

The Great Recession

Pain pills

Meth

Booze

Eviction

Illness

Mental breakdown

Death of a loved one

Incarceration and probation

An unspeakable incident of violence perpetrated upon them

Bad luck

One bad decision

Ronald Reagan's two terms as President

The shattering effects of American culture

For the purposes of this tale, we need not delve nor digress into their back stories. What concerns us now is Christmas Eve and the writer of this tale believes sharing a story like this can inspire others to act in service to the homeless (and shelter animals, too).

As a rule, James and Della never purchased gifts for each other; they made them. But for some time, however, each knew they wanted to break with tradition and spend a significant (for them) amount of money for a very special Christmas gift.

Ever since she became homeless, Della had managed to lose or have stolen, every sacred possession from her younger self—except one—two shoe boxes of 8-track tapes that were given to her by a beloved uncle on his death bed. They were classic country from the 70s: Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton, Loretta Lynn and Della's favorite singer, Johnny Paycheck. She also inherited her uncle's 8-track player, but it had crapped out a long time ago and Della always longed to hear the tapes again, but never got around to finding another player. Then homelessness set in, and she hit the road in the sedan but hung on to the shoe boxes, hoping one day a portable 8-track player might appear in a thrift store for dirt cheap.

One never had.

James knew this story well and was determined that Della would have a portable 8-track player for Christmas. He'd looked online at the library and saw one for sale on e-bay, a bitchin' blue Panasonic Dynamite player for $249.99! James arranged for the kindly proprietor of the bookstore to buy it for him and ship it there. He would pay her cash. The proprietor was thrilled to help and loved the story of the purchase. It was pure love and country music. too! It was in fact, a country song!

Now he had to come up with the $249.99. He couldn't tap their emergency fund since Della would know.

Ever since he became homeless, James had managed to lose or have stolen, every sacred possession from his younger self—except one—two shoe boxes of Atari 2600 game cartridges that were given to him by a beloved aunt on her death bed. They were classic games from the 80s: Missile Command, Pac Man, Frogger and Asteroids, James' favorite. He also inherited her aunt's game console, but it had crapped out a long time ago and James always longed to play the games again, but never got around to finding another console. Then homelessness set in, and he hit the road in the sedan but hung on to the shoe boxes, hoping one day a console might appear in a thrift store for dirt cheap.

One never had.

Della knew this story well and was determined that James would have a console for Christmas. She'd looked online at the library and saw one for sale on e-bay, an Atari 2600 Game Console with one joystick for $139.99! Della arranged for the kindly proprietor of the bookstore to buy it for her and ship it there. She would pay her cash. The proprietor was thrilled to help and loved the story of the purchase. It was pure love and right out of a schmaltz Hallmark Christmas movie! It was, in fact, a real Hallmark Christmas movie (there are such stories out there).

Now she had to come up with the $139.99. She couldn't tap their emergency fund since James would know.

One of James and Della's handyman clients sold all manner of weird curiosities on e-bay. Each one of them approached him privately on a yard work gig a month before Christmas, shared their stories, and asked if he could sell the tapes and games for them and not tell the other.

The man was positively delighted to help a homeless couple in love. (This writer knows the feeling because he once helped out a homeless couple in love.)

He said he would get right on it. James and Della stashed the tapes and games in his garage while the other was working out of sight.

A week later, the man was surreptitiously handing over $250 to James and $150 to Della. They visited the bookstore that afternoon and surreptitiously handed over the cash to the proprietor. She made the purchase then and there and delivery was guaranteed a few days before Christmas.

On Christmas Eve day, they visited the bookstore and each got a furtive wink from the proprietor. James and Della cooked up separate ruses so they could load the gift into their trailers and hide them.

The ruses worked.

Imagine the giddy faces of James and Della as they bicycled eight miles back to the Nomad before dark with the old sound of the ocean as a kind of sleigh bells on bobtail run.

Christmas Eve came and the night was foggy but dry. Della had strung keyhole limpets and hairy triton shells in small cedar tree outside the Nomad. James tied on a dozen colorful floats harvested from crab rings washed ashore. Their only conventional decoration was a demonic-looking three-foot elf rescued from a dumpster that Della mounted on a hunk of myrtlewood. Every time they saw him, they chuckled. An elf on a log can do that.

James got a roaring fire going in the pit and they prepared a wonderful feast: a canned ham, baked potatoes, miner's lettuce gathered from the woods, and a store bought lemon meringue pie. They'd splurged on booze, meaning a pint of EJ peach brandy.

That night, they brought the radio outside and tuned into Radio Free Europe and a stoned DJ was spinning obscure soul Christmas tracks from the 60s and 70s. (The Ohio Players' Happy Holidays anyone!)

They ate, they drank, they listened to music. The fire popped, sparked and crackled. The marten put in an appearance. They named him Marty.

It was time to give their presents. Each had wrapped and hidden them underneath the trailer when the other was using the outhouse for a lengthy constitutional (something you will definitely not see in a Hallmark Christmas movie).

They each held the gift in their laps and agreed to open them simultaneously. They shredded the wrapping paper and beheld their gifts. They stared at each other wordlessly for a moment...then...

I sold the tapes.

I sold the games.

They said it at precisely the same time. They began laughing and then glugged a shot of brandy. They didn't say they loved each other.

Issac Hayes' “The Mistletoe and Me” came on the radio. It was only the sexiest Christmas song of all time.

Issac Hayes crooned:

Looking in your eyes
Cause they're bright and shining
With the glow
Of a distant star
Fate is Santa Claus
And Cupid's his helper
I'm so grateful because
they brought us together
And together we are
And we will always be
Just you
The mistletoe and me

Right on!