SmallCaliberCentral

The year was 1952 and the lad was happy for his dad to be working a 32 ft oyster boat that winter. At the tender age of five he had not yet picked out his favorite name for his dad who would come to be called Padre. So for the young lad to have Padre around almost every night was a great joy because most winters Padre would be away on a shrimp boat in the Gulf of Mexico or making long trips fishing in the ocean for croaker, gray trout, or fluke.

Padre was a gifted man to say the least with exceptional wit and intelligence. Padre had sailed across a good part of the world, but perhaps his greatest gift and ability was that he could take the lad with him any where on earth. All the lad needed to do was simply crawl up in his lap and say take me on a trip daddy. And so the journey would begin.

Once upon a time, there was three little boys named A.J., Pete, and Owen, Jr. and they would go lion hunting in Africa, marlin fishing off Hawaii, or even avoid capture by the headhunters on Borneo. On this great adventure they were hunting for the biggest baddest bear on earth, the polar bear. This hunt was of epic importance because there was a real danger this bear might actually eat Santa, the elves, or even the reindeer and thereby cause a catastrophe of monumental proportions for all the children of the earth, and it wouldn’t be too good for the elves, the reindeer, or Santa either. So these three young lads being tasked with the responsibility of protecting Christmas set out on a journey that would have made Jack London, Jules Verne, and Zane Grey dizzy with amazement. Many years later the young lad would watch the series Mission Impossible and remember that was always the way he felt at the beginning of their missions, but in 1952 there wasn’t any cassette tape to self-destruct in 5 seconds.

Getting to the North Pole was no small feat even for these three super heroes. It required sailing as far north as ice would allow their schooner to go, and then taking sled dogs on a trek that probably made the Iditarod look like a cake walk. Every imaginable obstacle was thrown in their path to prevent them from rescuing Christmas and killing that big polar bear. Whiteouts in blinding snowstorms, compasses that lost magnetic north, dangers of frostbite, even having to kill seals to feed the dogs all entered into the great journey. Somewhere in the midst of the monumental rescue the bear began to track the lads and close in on them. They had been warned he was so cunning that he would place his paw over his nose and close his eyes and be only feet from you without being seen. This required constant vigilance, but little did they realize the big bear was following them right to Santa. Just when they thought they had gotten to Santa’s headquarters in time to save him, the giant bear stood to his full height of over fourteen feet tall and nearly two thousand pounds of determination to end Christmas forever. I can tell you since I was there that in my eyes that bear looked more like he was twenty feet tall and at least three or four thousand pounds. I’ll never forget watching in slow motion as that monster bear stood and began his charge straight for Santa and the reindeer.

It was a fearsome and terrible sight, but the three boys all unlimbered their rifles at the same time only to find that the bolt actions on all three rifles had frozen solid. It was sheer panic and absolute pandemonium. The only way to unfreeze the rifles was for the boys to pee on them. I can tell you that was no small feat for three young boys as they stood between Santa and this giant of white death, but they freed the actions just in time to put three bullets into the ol’ bear. One bullet hit him in each eye, and one in the nose for good measure. That was some good shooting even if I did do it. There was a great sense of relief as the huge bear toppled over backwards vanquished by the tree young marksmen who had saved Christmas for all the children of the world. I remember well turning to Padre and saying, “You’re just saying that aren’t you daddy.”

Yes my friends my Padre was the consummate story teller who was able to transport you in time and space and make it so real that you weren’t really sure it hadn’t happened just the way he said. God, I do miss him so and he never lost that wit or story telling ability right up until he left us in 1994. I can’t tell you how I yearn to hear him tell me another story that would take me on a new adventure to a far off place, and experience it all while sitting in his lap. I pray that you will be able to tell your children such tales and perhaps help them save Christmas. I do know that you will be a hero to them for the rest of their lives and that you will live on in their generations long after you are gone.

I’m tired now because saving Christmas is hard work for three little boys and even old men. God Bless you all as you rejoice together and celebrate the birth of the Christ Child. Maybe some day I’ll tell you about how those three little boys helped save the baby in Bethlehem from Herod. And you thought it was three Wise men didn’t you? I can tell you that according to my Padre they were named, A.J., Pete, and Owen, Jr., and I know cause I was there.

Merry Christmas to all!

Copyright: Owen Lupton, Jr.
Christmas 2010

Thanks DoubleUp, I too have been blessed with some very special people who are gone, but not forgotten.
Merry CHRIST-mas!