Christmas visitors can sometimes pose a challenge
- Michelle Wood: SWCD
- December 25, 2009
- 866
As you probably know, he’s the title character in the Menotti opera that was actually written for TV. NBC premiered it in 1951 and “Amahl and the Night Visitors” has had its place in holiday traditions ever since.
The young man had a couple of problems; for one, he’s crippled and, secondly, he liked to stretch the truth. His story, folded into the Star of Bethlehem and the tale of the Magi, has touched generations of children who, like me, have become adults.
Mom and Dad took us to see a live performance when a traveling company stopped in Columbus.
I remember feeling bad for Amahl because his mother didn’t believe him when he said he’d seen a strange star in the sky and that important visitors were near.
Of course, why would anyone believe him, since he had a history of, well ... lying?
But by the end of the story, which I won’t reveal, Amahl could at least trust his own senses, which brings us to what happened the other night.
My wife had worked a full day and then endured several hours of invasive dental procedures, so that by the time she’d had her chicken noodle soup and a knockout painkiller, she was down for the count.
I tucked her in, checked on her periodically and was pleased to see her sleeping soundly.
Along about 2 in the morning then, I set about turning off all the Christmas lights, inside and out, a process than can take a while; I mean, this place glows, with two big trees, a half-dozen smaller ones, the Dickens village, the “Christmas Carol” figurines, Snoopy and his flying doghouse, Charlie Brown and his sad little tree, our Nativity scene, the Santa table and enough snowmen to field a football team.
And that’s not even counting the garage, which, for reasons that must seem self-evident, has also been decorated this year and contains a talking/singing Douglas Fir tree, our stockings and two wreaths.
It’s become one of my favorite places to just sit and think and listen to music, seasonal and otherwise.
So you get the point: Shutting down the house requires focus and energy, but it’s a labor of love.
Anyway ....
I opened the front door, with the intention of pulling the plug on the rope tree that illuminates the house, when I heard something, kind of a muffled sound and then ... I felt something, like a gust of air had buffeted my right cheek.
“Oh, no,” I thought to myself, standing on the front porch looking at the wreath that hangs on the door. “There’s a bird in the house ... again.”
Faithful readers may recall that, two or three holiday seasons ago, a bird flew into our house, using the same access, and that -- in the end -- neither it nor we were happy with the outcome, which involved physical measures I’d just as soon not detail again.
But my wife and I had worked together and this time, seeing that gray bird with its white-tipped wings perched on a heating vent in the kitchen, I knew I’d have to figure out a solution on my own. There was no way I was going to wake her up, if I could help it, and Lord knows she deserved her rest.
I, on the other hand, felt like joining her in slumber, but I knew that wouldn’t be the right thing to do.
But what was the right thing to do?
My night visitor had flown into our house and was contentedly watching me as I pondered, weak and weary, my next move.
First, I closed the doors to the bathroom, the stereo room, the sunroom, the computer room and double-checked to make sure the bedroom door wasn’t open.
My wife gets alarmed when a mosquito invades that space ... I didn’t want to imagine what might happen if a bird landed on her head as she slept. Vesuvius, I thought, combined with Keith Moon attacking his drum kit.
The bird flew from the vent to a holly wreath, then fluttered across the kitchen, where he landed to the left of the flour canister, directly above the refrigerator.
He looked very content ... and I knew if he took into his bird brain to fly down the hallway and into the only room that has no door -- the living room -- then this night visitor and I were destined to meet in a contest with no happy ending.
Next week: “Have a Very Hitchcock Christmas” or as Lennon said, “This Bird Has Flown.”
Mike Dewey can be e-mailed at Caro linamikeD@aol.com or snail-mailed at 6211 Cardinal Drive, New Bern, NC 28560.