Back to Archives Page

Written by Paul R. May
Illustrated by Yolanda Iskandar

Mrs. Shannon cranked the heat in the troop van, forcing Missy to unzip her coat. Missy looked down at her new Junior Girl Scout vest. Other than her troop numbers and a membership patch, it was empty—nothing more than a large piece of green fabric. She was proud to have crossed over from her Brownie troop after her ninth birthday, but she missed her old brown vest. It had been covered with rows and rows of merit patches and pins. Now her old vest hung in her closet at home.

When they arrived at the nursing home, Missy zipped up her coat and stepped out of the van with the other girls.

“Everyone come here and listen up,” Mrs. Shannon shouted. They huddled around her in a parking space next to the van. “How many of you have visited a nursing home before?” Out of the seven girls in the troop, only two hands went up.

Mrs. Shannon continued. “The people living here need help to take care of themselves, and you’ll notice that some of them can’t communicate anymore. But I want you to remember—no matter how they respond, they appreciate our being here, and they will enjoy listening to your wonderful Christmas carols. So let’s make double sure we are on our best behavior, ladies.”

Most of them nodded, but one of the older girls grumbled and whispered something to a friend, and then both of them laughed. Missy trailed behind them as they entered the nursing home lobby, wondering what was so funny.

The lobby was warm, and Mrs. Shannon told the girls to pile their coats next to the receptionist’s desk. Missy looked around at the other girls’ vests. Most of them had several rows of patches and pins already. It would take her forever to catch up.

A large woman walked in to greet them. “This is Mrs. Lowery, the resident care manager,” Mrs. Shannon said. “Mrs. Lowery, this is Troop 1216.”

“Glad you girls are here,” Mrs. Lowery said, in a loud voice. She reminded Missy of her gym teacher. “Our residents will be delighted to see you. They’re eating dinner right now, so it will be like a little dinner theater for them.”

The girl scouts walked into the dining area. Many of the residents sat in wheelchairs. Nurses and orderlies were helping some of them eat their dinner.

A small group of elderly ladies in the back corner whispered to each other, pointed at the girls and smiled. At another table, two old men sat with their arms folded and scowled at the girls as if their dinner had been interrupted.

“Happy holidays, everyone!” Mrs. Lowery shouted. Many of the residents stopped eating and looked up at the girls. “We have a special treat for your listening and dining pleasure tonight.” She paused for a second, looking back at the girls. “These are the Girl Scouts from Riverview Troop 1216. Let’s give them a big hand!” Many of the residents clapped. Some didn’t react at all.

“Let’s start with Rudolph,” Mrs. Shannon whispered. The girls stood up straight and started singing. Missy joined in, but her mouth felt dry.

Then she noticed an old man near the front who was wearing a red Santa hat—the felt kind with a fuzzy white ball that flops over on the top. Missy’s Grandpa Sam used to wear one just like that every year at Christmas. It was his tradition for starting the official opening of presents every Christmas morning. He would put that silly hat on, stick his belly out as far as he could, and shout, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Bring on the presents!”

They finished their first song and moved on to “Silent Night.” For some reason, Missy couldn’t stop staring at the old man in the Santa hat.

He looked like many of the others. He stared straight ahead, with no emotion on his face. His skinny arms were tight against his body, his hands stiff and folded at the wrist. He wasn’t reacting to the music at all, but Missy could see a kindness in the man’s eyes that reminded her of her Grandpa Sam.

Normally, keeping eye contact with someone for so long would make her uncomfortable, but something in the old man’s eyes calmed Missy.

When they were finished with their songs, Mrs. Lowery’s voice broke through the silence.

"Let’s hear it for these ladies! What beautiful voices!” Then she turned to Mrs. Shannon. “Do you think the girls would be interested in staying for a few minutes to chat with some of our residents?”

“I’m sure they’d be delighted,” Mrs. Shannon answered. “Girls, why don’t you introduce yourself to some of the residents?” No one moved. “Girls?”

Missy turned and looked at the girls around her. Still, no one moved. Then Missy looked at the man in the Santa hat and wondered what the other girls would think of her is she went to talk to him. But something about the old man’s gentle eyes cut right through her concerns, and she stepped toward him.

“Good for you, Missy,” Mrs. Shannon said.

Missy walked up to the old man. “Hi,” she said, in a quiet voice.

Mrs. Lowery came bustling up behind her, pressing her big hands down on Missy’s shoulders.

“Honey, Mr. Sadler can’t understand what you’re saying. He hasn’t communicated with anyone in a very long time. Some people get like this, sweetie. But he probably heard you sing, and deep inside, that helped him feel good. I just know it.” Mrs. Lowery looked up and scanned the room. “Here,” she said, pulling Missy’s arm toward another table.

“Let me introduce you to Mrs. Larmer. She has a granddaughter about your age.”

“No, that’s okay,” Missy said, looking up at Ms. Lowery. “I’ll stay here, thanks.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to someone else?” Mrs. Lowery asked.

“Yeah,” Missy answered. “I’m fine.”

"Alright.” She gave Missy a half smile and then rushed off to the other girls.

Missy watched her walk away and turned back to look at the old man.

“You know,” she said in a quiet voice. “I had a grandpa. Grandpa Sam. He used to wear a silly Santa hat like yours. He loved putting that hat on every Christmas morning, and he’d stick out his stomach and say, ‘Ho! Ho! Ho! Bring on the presents!’ He died a few years ago. I miss him. Did one of the nurses put that hat on you?”

The old man said nothing. He didn’t move. But still he maintained eye contact. Missy reached out and pulled a chair in front of his wheelchair. She sat down, facing him.

“It’s okay if you can’t talk back. I’ll do the talking if you want. You can just listen.”

Then Missy told him about her Girl Scout troop, and she showed him her new vest and told him about how she wished she could pull all the patches and pins off of her Brownie vest and put them on this one. She told him about feeling uncomfortable with some of the girls in her new troop.

Mrs. Lowery’s voice rose over the crowd. The other girls were talking to some of the residents who could talk back. No one was watching Missy and Mr. Sadler.

Then, to Missy’s surprise, the old man looked slowly to the left, and then to the right. Then he let one of his hands drop down, away from his chest, opened it and held it out to Missy. Missy wasn’t sure what to do, so she reached out and set her hand on top of his, like a handshake.

Slowly, Mr. Sadler turned her hand palm-side up, and with his finger, he drew an invisible smiley face on her palm. After that, he closed Missy’s hand up into a fist, like he was keeping the smiley face safe. Then he patted her hand gently, looked into her eyes and gave her the kindest, most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

As quickly as he had come to life, Mr. Sadler was gone again. His hands went back to that tight position against his body. He was still.

Missy looked around. No one had seen Mr. Sadler move. Mrs. Shannon was starting to gather the girls up to leave.

“I have to go now,” Missy said. “I hope you have a good Christmas. Thanks for reminding me of my Grandpa Sam.” She smiled and stood up. Then Missy reached out and ran her finger along the Santa hat’s red felt. “Good bye, Mr. Sadler.”

Missy waited for a moment, wondering if he would respond in any way. But she knew that he wouldn’t.

On the way home, some of the girls complained about the old people, but it didn’t bother Missy. She was busy trying to remember if that old Santa hat was packed up with the Christmas stuff in the attic. She was going to ask her mother to help her find it.

Missy had decided that on Christmas morning, she was going to renew a tradition. She was going to put that silly old hat on her head, stick out her belly as far as she could, and shout, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Bring on the presents!”

~ * ~

Paul R. May is a full-time writer and stay-at-home dad. He writes children's novels, picture books, parenting articles, and essays about raising children. Paul taught writing for five years as an English teacher in Baltimore, Maryland. He then worked as a technical instructor for ten years. In 2002, Paul and his wife moved to Tampa, Florida to eliminate daycare for their children and to allow him to focus on his writing full time. Paul is an active member of the Tampa Writers Alliance and the Society of Children's Book Writers and llustrators.

© 2005, by Paul R. May

Copyright © 2003-2005 All Rights Reserved.
No material (including, but not limited to: images, design, text and intellectual property) anywhere on this website or any page within may be reproduced or further disseminated for profit or nonprofit, by any means (electronic,  mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), or used in any capacity on any website on the World Wide Web.