Christmas In July?-With Laura Perkins In Mind 

From The Pen Of Zack James 

Sam Lowell sitting in his favorite chair, the one that allowed him to slide down into the prone position to take a nap to rest his weary bones after a hard day of, well, of retirement, formal retirement anyway, now that another Christmas was upon him and Laura. He had been thinking about that Christmas a couple of years before, back in 2013. That was the year when, at Sam’s urgent urging, if that is possible to do, they decided the hell with another frostbite sad old weary winter in New England, the hell with the formalities of a family Northeast Christmas which they both dreaded anyway, had since childhood, and took off for sunny Florida, took off for Naples a place that previously had been where they said goodbye to winter with a week’s reprieve just before April the past several years. It was not like they had not tried to go down to Florida before at Christmas time but the previous time had been a disaster, had been nothing but a lonely motel room, unseasonable downpour rain and a Christmas dinner garnished with marshmallows on their sweet potatoes-whoever heard of such a thing.      

This last time, as Sam had assured me when he told me about it one night in January after they had gotten back all tanned, Laura, and red faced sunburn, Sam, as we were sitting in Jack’s in Cambridge cutting up old touches things were to be different since they decided rent a condo through Air B&B and from the description of the place complete with pool, spa and like amenities the whole experiment was a far better deal than running out to frost-bound Saratoga Springs in forbidden upstate New York to go through the dreary ritual of presents hysteria and sated dinners.

Still Sam said although things had worked out well he had been weirded out a little by what he called Christmas in July. As a hard-bitten New England born and bred boy some of the sounds and sights of Christmases past had lost their edge in too sunny and big easy Florida but like he said things worked out well and they planned thereafter to make it a new yearly ritual, their new yearly ritual (and have done so).   

I don’t really remember all the odd-ball quirky things Sam mentioned that night at Jack’s especially after we had ordered our third shots of Haig &Haig. I too am a New England boy who however has remain true to the New England frostbite winter although as I write this little sketch the temperature outside in Carver in about sixty-five degrees, so hardly a frostbite moment, although surely a relentless remember that climate change is dead-ass upon us and we had better begin to do something about it more than “sense of the meeting” accords in Paris which are only the beginning of wisdom.  I do remember Sam getting all excited about telling me that he wore shorts on the trip down (and back as well) to “prove” that he was not some tourist now. Laura, he said, just rolled her eyes at that one, a typical Laura response when he touts something goofy like that.   

Oh yeah, when they arrived in Naples and had taken a rest at the condo they rented (which both agreed was excellent and as described in the Air B&B documentation) they decided to go to Fifth Avenue, the heart of tourist Naples, a place where locals and tourists alike, at least the women, including Laura, like to “dress to the nines” to have ice cream and to see what the place would look like all decorated for Christmas in a world with palm trees and no pines, no Christmas pines anyway. So dressed in a tee shirt and shorts in December odd in itself (Sam is not much for dressing to the nines even in Boston, especially since he has been retired) and Laura all dolled up they walked up Fifth Avenue which unlike in March was practically deserted (the Midwestern families with school vacation kids show up then and mob everything from beaches to restaurants) although the sight a huge artificial Christmas tree tastefully decorated in the main plaza was startling. Still Sam found it incongruous to have those palm trees all lighted up.        

And so the week went, with Sam and Laura laughing about having to take a time check as Christmas approached and they found themselves eating outside at restaurants, sitting on the beach half naked in the baking sun. Had to laugh the most when they on a very hot Christmas Eve Day found themselves on a local beach, a beach crowded with families and young ones seemingly oblivious to the fact that Santa was due pretty soon, and not even muttering any words about how he was going to get about without some snow to make his work a little easier. Laura had remarked that maybe they have different traditions down in South Florida where they probably have never seen snow at least that would stick. If and when it does come then even those in Paradise will know that something must be done, even the most right-wing “snowbird” will be hollering for relief and quick since why else would they have invested in Florida property to get away from the damn snow, wind, ice, and frigid temperature.        

Hey, I remember the best story though, had kind of forgotten about it since that was a couple of years ago, but the season kind of dictates that it should be remarked upon here. One Christmas morning Sam was taking his usual walk, jog, trot, whatever (that last is what he calls it especially when he has had a bad day trying to jump-start himself early in the morning which is when he had to do those exercises or forget it because later in the day the legs are too gamy) along the North Gulf Shore Beach when he spied two young women, probably from the look of them college students although he admits to being less sure on young ages the older he gets, sitting across from each other on a blanket in the sand with wrapped Christmas gifts in front of them. On his way back he noticed the two still sitting there but with the gifts now open and the sun beginning to come up over the horizon. Yeah, a Christmas smack out of some July. Maybe Laura was onto something when she remarked about traditions being very different in the sun-belt.