| Kenneth W. Haas |
| June 15, 2011 |
| An Original Story By Kenneth W. Haas ANOTHER TYPE OF CHRISTMAS |
| Let me begin this story by explaining to you that the main character of our story, Jacob Holliday, was an important man - a self made man, if you please - as he was quick to relate to anyone if the chance came up in conversation. It was not out of pride that he said this, but rather to set the record straight so that no one could ever question that his position came from anything other than hard work. He now owned and operated a large business that employed many people. He was, if anything, a more than fair man with his employees. He was vitally interested in their welfare, and was proud of the fact that he was able to call most employees by their first names, and also could, in most cases, inquire about their families with the complete assurance that he could name their wives and most of their children I bring all these things to your attention so that you will realize that, indeed, the subject of our story was a compassionate man, far above average in his dealings with people. The only luxury that our friend allowed himself other than work was the time he allotted to his service club. Not that he really gave it that much time, because he really did not have that much time to give. His efforts were more inclined to be of a financial nature. After all, he reasoned with himself that counted, too. Perhaps he was correct. (Who is to say?) As we join Mr. Holliday in this story, he is being reminded by his secretary that tonight is the meeting of his service club. Mr. Holliday was not too pleased by this news because he was very busy and could not stand the slow deliberations that went on at these meetings. Their slow plodding ways of doing things both irritated and angered him. At first, he decided not to go. Then he changed his mind, mainly because he knew that tonight's meeting would probably be short because this was the pre- Christmas meeting when each person would pick a name of a needy child from a box and then see that this child would be furnished with some Christmas gifts. It would probably have been a lot better for Mr. Holliday if he would have stayed away from the meeting that night, because there was going to be a surprise in store for him that he would not like at all. But he went to the meeting, never realizing that, for him, it was going to be another kind of Christmas, one that he had neverexperienced before. "Good evening", said the President of the club. "As you know, it is our custom to choose names from a list of needy people. The officers have decided that we would like it to be handled in another way this year, and we are going to ask you to vote on it. We are asking that when you draw your name, instead of just furnishing a gift, we ask that you deliver the gift yourself, to sort of give it a personal touch." Mr. Holliday was on his feet at once, and as patiently as he could, he explained to everyone that he, for one, did not have the time for such nonsense. A vote was taken on the question; and as it turned out, Mr. Holliday was the only one that did not favor the new idea. It was with a lot of resentment that he picked his name. The name of the child he drew was Jason Lang, 1226 Wood Street. Mr. Holliday well knew that this was one of the most depressing parts of the city, and he resolved to himself that under no circumstances would he visit this Jason Lang. He would get him a gift as he done in the years past, and have it delivered. No one would ever know. If they did find out, so what! After all, he was one of the largest donors to the club, and no one would dare question him. He went home, prepared himself for bed, but he could not sleep. He tossed and turned, and tossed and turned some more. In the morning, he resolved that he might go to visit the boy after all because he knew he had given his word that he would go along with the majority of the club. This is what he must do. The early morning's light found him in front of 1226 Wood Street. The rundown house was neither any better nor any worse than it's neighbors. It was some misgivings that he rang a bell. After some moments, a woman answered the door. It was plain to see from her appearance that, at one time, she must have been a beautiful woman, but the lines of care and sorrow had etched deep lines into her face and dulled her beauty. Mr. Holliday explained why he was there, and the thought that her son would be receiving a present pleased her. Mr. Holliday asked if he could see the boy and the mother said of course he could, but first of all, she must explain something about her son. "You see, Sir", she said, "My son is suffering from a malignant brain tumor. He really does not have too long to live. His Dad deserted us several years ago. You can see why there is no real Christmas spirit in this house." "May I see the boy?" asked Mr. Holliday. Mrs. Lang ushered him into a bright, cheerful room. In the corner of this room in order to catch all the rays of the sun lay Jason. It was evident to look at him that he was indeed sick. His eyes were a feverish bright color. His complexion had a shallow, waxy character to it, and the boy himself was pathetically thin. "Here is someone to see you", said Mrs. Lang. Jason's eyes lit up with joy and he greeted his visitor with a beautiful smile. "Jason", said Mr. Holliday, "I'm here to ask you what you want or need for Christmas. You can have anything you want." "Can I really have anything I want? Asked Jason again. "Name it and you can have it, my boy. I'm a man of my word", said Mr. Holliday. "All right, then", said Jason, " I want you to be my father for Christmas." "Wait just a second," said Mr. Holliday. "I can't be your father. I wouldn't know how to be a father. Besides, that is something you cannot demand from someone. I must go. When you decide what you want, your Mother can call me." It was easy for Mr. Holliday to stay busy for the next few days because by nature, he was a busy person. But, busy as he was, there was one thought that he could not erase from his mind. That was Jason and the foolish idea he had. "I won't go! I won't go, do you hear!" He shouted out loud as he slammed his fist on the desk. His poor secretary was so startled that she dropped the papers she had in her hand. "Is there anything wrong, Mr. Holliday?" "No, nothing at all," he said. "At least, nothing you can help me with." Just then, the phone rang. "It's for you", said his secretary. It's a Mrs. Lang for you and she says it is important.” "Mr. Holliday, I know that you won't do what my son asks, and perhaps I don't blame you, but could you come over if only for a minute. He is very bad, and the doctor seems to think that he won't last out the day. Please come! I'm begging you as a mother!" Mr. Holliday forgot about his busy day ahead. He forgot that he said he wouldn't go. The only thing he knew was that, for some reason, he had to get there. Mrs. Lang was crying when she opened the door for him. He hurried into the boy's room. The boy saw him at once - just as though he was expecting him - just as though he knew for sure that he would come. They sat there for a long time just making small talk and getting to know each other. As the afternoon wore on, the boy seemed to become less aware of things going on around him. There was a sudden terrible spasm that seemed to shake the boy's body. His eyes opened wide and they seemed filled with pain. The boy smiled weakly, and his trembling hand motioned Mr. Holliday to come closer. As he did, the boy raised himself, put his arms around Mr Holliday's neck, and placed a kiss on Mr. Holliday’s cheek - just a delicate brush, much like a butterfly brushing a precious petal of a flower. "I love you, Dad", said the boy, and then, suddenly, the words gushed out of him - the words mixed with tears that he had not shed for years - " I love you too, Son", he said. In the twinkling of an eye, the boy was gone into a land where there was no more pain, but only peace and love. Mr. Holliday cried for a long while that day, and for many days afterward. He was a sadder man, for he learned a Christmas secret - it is easy to give of your finances and even of your time, but the real secret is when you give of yourself out of love - for then the magic doors are opened for you. |
| Editor's Note --- Dennis L. Pearson read this Yule Tide message at the Official Lighting of the 4th Annual East Allentown / Rittersville Neighborhood Association Light Display in 1997 . Kenneth W. Haas died in 1993 |
| PROJECT HAAS The East Allentown/ Rittersville Neighborhood Association ran its first holiday lighting program of certain community facilities in 1994 We sought and were given permission in the years 1994 through 2001 by former Mayor Bill Heydt and in 2002 through 2005 by former Mayor Roy Afflerbach and in 2006 through 2010-2011 by the pawlowski administration to place holiday decorations at the following city of Allentown facilities: Irving Park, Keck Park, Canal Park, the Jerome Street Islands, Kimmets Lock and the East Side Reservoir. In the end, we limited our project each year to putting up holiday decorations at Irving Park; however in 2009-2010 we additionally loaned certain plastic nativity items to the St. John's Evangelical Congregational Church pastured by the Reverend Allen Kline on the North Jerome Street hill near the Jerome Island road dividers. |
| Photos of Project Haas |
