Frog Hospital -- Christmas Eve
Bobby, the Christmas Felon
By Fred Owens
I wrote this little Christmas story about when my kids were small when we lived in LaConner, Washington. Eva is 40 now and has her own two children, but I told her this morning when we talked on the phone I still think she's seven and playing in the backyard on a swing. Eugene, next to her, always had his nose in a book, so he became a librarian.
Bobby, the Christmas felon, came to visit us on Christmas Eve many years ago, when Eva and Eugene were small. We lived in a double wide mobile home on Maple Street in LaConner, across the street from Wayne Everton and Chris McCarthy. That Christmas Eve we took a day hike out to Fishtown and stopped by Bo Miller's cabin to get out of the weather. But the cabin wasn't empty as we expected. This woolly old hippie had his bed roll spread out on the floor and a can of tobacco on the table. Seems he had been there for a few days, finding the door open. Naturally we invited him to our house for Christmas so he could enjoy some honest egg nog. Sure, he said, and maybe I can play with the children too. We trusted him, actually not that much, but we figured he could behave himself for a few days, and he did. He pushed the kids around town in the stroller and greeted everyone with a smile. I never asked where he came from or where he had been. I didn't want to know. I figured the cops were looking for him and if I didn't know I wouldn't be lying.
That was many years ago, but Bobby, wherever you are, I hope life has been good to you. Merry Christmas.
thank you for everything,