A Clue About Christmas (Baltimore, 1954)
One year in Baltimore, Kazue learned that
there was more to Christmas than a spindly tree with glass
balls atop the TV. Mrs. Gill, her mother’s friend from
work, invited them for Christmas Eve. The Gills’
groundfloor apartment was jammed with furniture in dark, rich
colors– mahogany, maroon and hunter green. Mrs. Gill
herself was resplendent in stiff black taffeta. Her round face
was framed by oddly dark hair—two tight braids wrapped
around her head like a knotty halo. Her Kevin was equally
festive in a green-and red plaid vest. He about 12, and
fair, freckled and pudgy. He had impeccable manners and an air
of self satisfaction as broad as his belly.
The children were expected to play
together while the grownups chatted, but Kazue was more
interested in Mrs. Gill's house than in her son. The Christmas
tree put Kazue's tiny one at home to shame. The Gill's tree
rose from floor to ceiling, and was topped by an angel instead
of a star. It was dense with silver snowflakes and candy canes,
and pressed glass ornaments in the shape of pine cones.
Christmas according to the Gills included red-ribboned
mistletoe hung in a doorway, and dishes of ribbon candy. And
magical golden chimes with angels that revolved slowly over the
heat from bright red candles. And eggnog served in a glass
punch bowl hung with little glass cups. And fruitcake, which
Kazue had never seen before. She marvelled at the bright
translucent colors of the embalmed fruit. But when she took a
bite, she had to wrinkle her nose at the unexpected tang of
brandy.
Kevin wanted to show her his train set. It
was arranged in a ring in the middle of the living room rug. He
demonstrated all the features. The locomotive tooted and blew
smoke. The crossing gated lifted and lowered by magic as the
train ran past them. He fussed over his domain like a lord over
his manor. Since Kazue was just a girl, she was allowed to look
but not touch.
And Mrs. Gill presided over the
festivities like a dowager duchess showering her largesse on
the heathen masses. In reality, she was a precursor of Martha
Stewart, seeking to put her life into order through things.
Take away the stuff, and she was a middle-aged divorcee with a
soft, spoilt son, and Kazue and Helen were her only guests this
holiday season.
Towards the end of the evening, Kevin
showed Kazue the manger scene under the tree. Pointing to the
pudgy-legged Christchild in his manager, he said, "That's
why Christmas is so special. It's the day that Jesus came to
save us all from Hell."
"That's like Buddha's birthday,"
Kazue exclaimed, relieved to find something in common. "We
decorate his shrine with flowers and pour sweet tea over his
head."
"It's not the same at all!"
Kevin insisted. "If you don't believe in Jesus, you'll
burn in Hell!"
A shiver ran down Kazue's back and into
her socks, making her ankles tingle. Kevin stood about a head
taller than her, so she was looking at his necktie, which was
red satin, to match his vest. Kevin lowered his head to look
her in the eye. “You're going to burn in Hell," he
hissed.
Tears sprang into Kazue's eyes. "No,
I'm not." she blurted. "Buddhists don't believe in
Hell."
“What’s going on?” Mrs.
Gill called out. She had heard the rise of voices and come to
investigate. Kevin explained in an aggrieved tone. Mrs.
Gill’s eyes grew hard as black buttons while her bright
red lips continued to smile. She ruffled her son’s hair.
“My goodness, I didn’t realize it was getting so
late,” she said to Kazue’s mother.
Mrs. Gill’s eyes stayed hard as
Kazue and Helen got their coats and said their goodbyes.
Kazue felt deeply resentful. All this
stuff about Christmas trees was fine. She didn't even mind that
she had to recite the Lord's Prayer and the 23rd Psalm at her
public school after the Pledge of Allegiance. The Christians
had the right to believe what they believed, but they had no
right to make her believe it. She didn't push her religion on
them. Why should they push theirs on her?
Kazue thought about her friend Patsy's
First Communion. Patsy had been excited about it for weeks, and
Kazue had been excited for her, even though she really missed
playing with Patsy on the afternoons when Patsy had to stayed
after school to study the Catechism. When the big day arrived,
she got all dressed up in a lacy white dress and matching veil.
She looked like a miniature bride, with a little white veil and
flowers and everything. Afterwards, she showed Kazue the new
rosary she had gotten, and the Holy Cards, vivid pasteboard
pictures of Jesus and Mary. Patsy pinned her favorite card up
on her bedroom wall. It was a picture of the sacred heart, a
bloody thing encircled with thorns.
Kazue thought the picture was creepy, but
she never told Patsy that. And Patsy and her mom never made her
feel bad that she didn't believe in Jesus.
"How come we have to burn in
Hell?" Kazue asked Helen on the way home from the
Gills’ house. "It doesn't seem fair. What about all
the people in Africa and India and the Amazon jungle? Why
should they burn in hell when they've never even heard of
Jesus."
"We won't burn in Hell," said
Helen quietly. "Mrs. Gill has a hard time, raising Kevin
without a father. She has to believe what she believes, and we
can believe what we believe.
They had driven into a blinding rainstorm.
The rain poured down the windshield in sheets. The windshield
wipers worked overtime. But they only made thick ripples that
caught the glare of on-coming headlights. It was almost
impossible to see the road. “Î hope we make it home
all right," Helen said. "Baachan (Grandma) always
used to say, “When you’re scared, think of
Hotoke-sama (the Buddha).” She began to sing a Buddhist
song at the top of her lungs, “Non
nono nonosama, Hotoke-sama, watashii no suki ni kasama
de..”
