A Christmas Story

I wrote this story as a prelude to our annual tacky sweater Christmas party, which is set to take place on December 19th at the Perry's:

It is said that Mr. Chesterton came out of his house but once a year. Quiet by nature and clandestine by design, he made one secret trip annually. It was early in the morning August 3rd, 1923 and by the light of a single kerosene lamp I read the letter that Mr. Chesterton had sent me. I use the word “letter” liberally considering Mr. Chesterton had penned a note in his finest calligraphy consisting of only 3 words: “Dress warm today,” he said. Warm, I thought. What a curious word to use. It was late summer and Vermont was as humid as the dense Paraguayan jungle in which I was raised. I would soon find out that President Harding had died of a heart attack and I, Calvin Coolidge, would be the next to take the Oval Office. You will not read about what happened next in an almanac or a history book. In fact, I hardly believed it myself. But happen, it did. I folded up Mr. Chesterton’s letter and made my way to the front door to assess the climate. It was cold, but then again it was 2:20 in the morning. I breathed in the algid morning air and stared out in to the acreage hugging the single dirt path that led to my home and I saw it. Faint at first, it grew increasingly bright as it approached the patio on which I stood. I was startled to say the least, but captivated by the increasing glow of this enigmatic emanation, I stood and waited for it. Soon enough I was blinded. Literally or figuratively, it matters not. I could not see for the sun-like glow filled the periphery of my vision. Strangely silent, the light stayed for what seemed like an hour, but more realistically I stood in its glow for all but five minutes. Shivering and confused, everything suddenly went black and I heard the soft thump of delicate objects landing at my feet. I looked down to find a Tunisian crochet hook, three radiant broaches, and a skein of the most magnificent yard I had ever seen. I gathered the objects in to my trembling arms and, crying, stumbled in to my home. For the next 14 days I neither ate nor drank. I simply crocheted. History books will tell you that I immediately took office and began acting as the president of this great nation. However the facts dictate another story altogether. I never wore the sweater I created but, all things considered, it was the single most spectacular garment the world may have ever known. I never discovered the source of the glowing aurora that changed my life but I have my suspicions. You see Mr. Chesterton once told me (in a dream) that a life best lived is one that is constantly striving to obtain the truth behind the source of the light that changed one’s life. I can only assume that he meant himself. Ten years later I was found dead in Northhampton, Massachusetts. Those who attended my funeral commented on the outfit that an uninvited guest was wearing. It was said that this man was quiet and wore a sweater that could only be described as “the single most spectacular garment the world may have ever known.” I can only imagine that Mr. Chesterton floated away that day in an ethereal cloud of yarn and glory.