Welcome to Yellow Springs, a bucolic borough with

characters caught in the crossroads of rural and suburban,

somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow. For two decades,
fictional Conestoga County has been a platform from which to
evolve and share my thoughts about the ever-elusive, true
meaning of Christmas. My stories build on a recognizable, but
not necessarily orthodox, Christian base, and yet I have always
hoped to be suitably inclusive so that my friends with different
views would also enjoy reading these tales. You can find
yesteryears tales on Facebook; just search for Yellow Springs
Stories, and then scroll down the page to see links to pdf
copies of previous years stories that you can open to read or
print. Heres to a good Holiday season!
-

Bill Kennedy(kennedyw@whiteandwilliams.com)
2014 William D. Kennedy

Last Child in Line: Can Santa bring what the final child asks for?
Last Gift at the Manger: What did the pastors preschooler do now?
Wee Three Kings: A rabbi instructs about Christmas and Hanukkah.
Angus & the Lost Retriever: A runaway pet returns an unexpected bonus.
Silent Knight: Help comes from an unlikely source.
Call Waiting: A Christmas call gives new life.
Focus on the Felony: Is there a Christmas criminal on the loose?
The Enlightened Blackout: A blizzard causes an evacuation.
Special Delivery: Christmas brings an unusual arrival.
Treasure Hunt: A Christmas visit to seniors brings unwrapped rewards.
Pillow Talk: A grandmothers leaves a legacy in her gifts.
Two Close For Comfort: Yellow Springs, post 9/11.
The Undeserved Gift: What becomes of a white collar crook at Christmas?
OB Joyful: A Christmas pregnancy challenges a divided family.
Felix Navidad: Can an injured widower find faith, hope, or love?
Santa Time: The Santa space-time continuum is revealed.
Walden Ponders: Christmas gives a man much to contemplate.
Advent Chores: The pastor is changed by a leave of absence.
Habitate Humanity: A civil protest group invades Yellow Springs.
Weary Whirled: Storm recovery unites diverse Conestoga Countians.
Oliver & the Advent Adoption: An only-child resists a growing family.

Bill Kennedy

On the day after Thanksgiving -- Black Friday, the Holiest Day

of Retail the former Rev. Dr. Godfrey Oxthorn Swench reveled in a
rare day off from his latest career as the Director of Resident Life at
Fallow Farm, Conestoga Countys only retirement campus, out on the
edge of the Yellow Springs valley. Gertrude had asked her husband to
hang the holiday lights on the blue spruce next to the back deck.
Godfrey went to the garage and hauled out the ladder that Jacob had
given him for Fathers Day. As he climbed to nearly twice his height,
Godfrey quietly murmured to the tune of We Are Climbing Jacobs
Ladder. Reaching the verse that goes, Every step is higher, higher,
Godfrey felt a disquieting tremor. His hands and feet were firmly
intact with the rungs, but he was no longer quite as high off the ground
as they had been had been just a moment ago. A split second later,
Godfrey realized that the base of the ladder feet was slipping
backwards. In an instant, Godfrey fell victim to the law of gravity,
landing face down on the deck with a sickening thud.
Orthopedists call it the Terrible Triad when you combine
displaced fractures of the two forearm bones with the ripping of the
related ligaments. Still, it was nothing that several hours of surgery,
several weeks of splinting, and several months of physical therapy
wouldnt fix. In the meantime, Godfrey was learning to do everything
with his left hand. Buttons and zippers proved to be particularly
problematic.
Godfrey could hardly let the injury slow him down from his daily
duties at Fallow Farm. The December schedule was chock full of
activities for which he was responsible -- everything from a residents
production of A Christmas Carol, to cookie bake-offs, concerts from
visiting choirs and bands, Pollyanna parties on every floor, bus trips to
see the nighttime lights at Shortwater Gardens, the Yellow Springs
Winter Carnival, and everything in between.
I checked the calendar, and there are extra activities on every
single day! Godfrey exclaimed.
Tell me about it, Gertrude commiserated. Thinking about her
catering business, she added, Ive got nearly twice the number of

events this month compared to last year! I know I say it every year, but
the Conestoga County calendar has never been busier.
Godfrey agreed. And you have to wonder what they were
thinking by combining the Olde Fashioned Christmas with the Variety
Show on December 24th?!?
The Olde Fashioned Christmas was a downtown-based winter
carnival and retail open-house that was traditionally held on the
weekend after Thanksgiving. The Variety Show was added a few years
ago after the closed-Wanabakers department store was converted into
a municipal auditorium. In order to draw more shoppers to the
struggling Main Street corridor, the town sponsored an all-day event of
entertainment acts in the auditorium, something that non-shoppers
could pop in and out of while shopper drove the wheels of Conestoga
County commerce.
The Show consisted of a series of acts, something for everyone, if
you stayed the whole time, including the high school choirs, the
middle school flute ensemble, and the college a cappella group. And
there were some skits -- a few rough renditions of the nativity or
scripts that ended with fully-anticipated Christmas miracles. Also
scheduled were some sing-alongs, and this year they added a
PowerPoint-aided book-reading of a childrens book co-authored by
Father Opus Magnus niece, Molly, a student at Oxthorn University.
Mollys professor had written a 400-page text book about women
breaking into the chief executive ranks in corporate America. Molly
helped convert the graduate level textbook into an inspiring picture
book for pre-adolescents entitled, Unsealing the Ceiling: Women
Who Paved The Way.
In previous years at the Variety Show, the interludes between acts
consisted of piped-in holiday tunes. This year, however, a longoverdue sense of social awareness had overtaken the organizers. They
decided that the segue between acts would be a short skit, song, or
poem aimed at eliminating all forms of violence toward women and
children. The idea was being driven by Fern Flegelhoffer,
granddaughter of the Fair Value hardware store founder, Felix
Flegelhoffer. Fern had pitched the idea to her principal at Millard

Fillmore High School, but the topic was too important to limit to just
that small audience

But I dont know that Ill notice that its Christmas-- with everything
on the calendar, I don't think we have time for Christmas!

Looking at a list of the upcoming Christmas Eve day activities

Godfrey Swench snorted small-mindedly, What does the prevention
of violence towards women and children have to do with Christmas??
Gertrude eyed him over her reading glasses. Oh, gee, Godfrey, I
dont know, she said sarcastically, How about the Biblical Christmas
storys reference to the massacre of all the Bethlehem children under
two years old? Didnt you use that as a springboard for a sermon
against domestic and relationship violence about six or seven years
ago?
Godfrey stared at her. He had preached thousands of sermons in
his day, but Gertrude had never let on that she had listened to any of
them. But what that other new act in the Variety Show? They hired a
hypnotist! A hypnotist!! Ooh, he mimicked, youre getting sleepy.
Lets see how you behave when youre sleeping.
Hold it arent you the man who once preached four Advent
sermons on how God issued warnings and directions to poor ol St.
Joseph in dreams in St. Matthews gospel?
Duly chastened, Godfrey conceded, Im just grumpy because
theres so much to do in such little time! Hey, are you catering the
Christmas day brunch for the Hospital workers this year? Godfrey
checked with Gertrude
Yes, and the mid-day dinner at Municipal Hall for the lights and
sirens crews. You know, when you stop and think about it, there are a
lot of people who have to work on Christmas Day.
I know, Godfrey agreed. Were fully-staffed at Fallow Farm
that day we even had to pull in extra help for the Christmas dinner
crowd.
Hospitals, hotels, road crews, utilities look at all the people
who dont get to have a Christmas day with their families! Speaking of
which, how bout you? Did Fallow Farm schedule you for Christmas
day again?
Yeah, he shrugged. It wasn't anything new for Godfrey. After
all, back when he was a pastor, he always worked on Christmas Day.

The Swenches were not alone in feeling that Christmas just didn't
fit within the seasonal plans this year. All throughout Conestoga
County, crowded calendars were cramping Christmas. Over at Oxford
University, for example, head football coach Philo Phogg barely
thought about the holiday. December 24th and 25th would be travel
days for his undefeated team as they prepared for the Small University
Pupils Recreation Association (SUPRA) bowl championship game on
December 27th in Lake Wobegon, Minnesota. For the previous 50
years, the SUPRA football champion had been voted upon by a
handful of university professors who had watched two or more games.
This year, however, the Association had yielded to public pressure by
creating a round robin playoff system. After winning games in early
December, the Oxthorn Oxen would play in the title game against the
Granite State Growlers. Between the Oxthorn coaches and players, the
marching band, boosters, fans and family, a sizable sector of Yellow
Springs would be heading to Ava Ashoens Airstrip to Begin the long
trip to Minnesota. For all of them, Christmas will be a long day of
cramped quarters and connections.
Coach Phogg felt a little badly about leaving his father at the
holidays. Philo is the son of Fuzzy Phogg, the legendary two-sport
coach at Oxthorn U. Back in the 1970s. Fuzzy Phoggs gridiron and
curling squads had won a record number of highly competitive Rhodes
scholarships.
Philo had been his fathers assistant, and he was promoted when
the quiet, elegant legend retired in the 1990s. After his mothers death
and his own divorce, Philo bought the old family homestead from his
father. Together, they converted the barn into a spacious cottage for
Fuzzy, while Philo and the kids spread out in the main house.
The kids are all grown gone now, and a few years ago, when
Fuzzy began to slow down, Philo moved him back to the main house,
where Mrs. Livingston -- a combination live-in housekeeper/LPN -helped the retired coach.

At first, Fuzzy had just the usual troubles associated with aging
the sensory losses, aches, and pains that form the broad boundary
between old and elderly. But over the past two years, and
increasingly lately, Fuzzy was having more trouble. His body doesnt
quite work the way its supposed to all the time, which can be
annoying, uncomfortable, and/or embarrassing. Fuzzy cant quite
speak as well as he used to, either. It started with names and faces, but
he soon graduated to more vexing vocabulary problems. Thoughts
were no longer quite as free-flowing as before, and they sometimes
had to be manufactured with considerable effort.
Ever since he turned over the coaching reins to his son, Fuzzy
remained a loyal and omnipresent fan of the Oxthorn Oxen, but due to
the kind of physical issues that are common among dementia patients,
he hasnt been able to watch from the press box anymore. Instead, the
University hooked up a video feed via the Internet. Early in this past
season, Fuzzy was still pretty animated when he watched games, but
pretty soon, Mrs. Livingston reported that he was getting a bit
confused. Fuzzy could no longer remember which team was which,
and by the time Philo and the Oxen had won the playoff games that
sent them to the SUPRA Bowl, Fuzzy couldnt recognize the name or
face of the Coach anymore, even when the Coach came home at night
and met him in the kitchen.
Philo was concerned about leaving his father for the big road trip
to Minnesota. Mrs. Livingston reassured him that she had things under
control.
I know, the coach concurred, but I just hate to miss Christmas
with him. You, know, for years decades, really, Dad was the
lectionary reader at St. Wensies for Advent. He had memorized every
line. But now, I dont think he recognizes the stories when he hears
them.
Softly, and sagaciously, Mrs. Livingston pointed out, You know,
Ive cared for an awful lot of patients like your father, and there
usually comes a point where theyre just no longer able to perceive
events like Christmas or other holidays.
Philo nodded. One way or the other, even though the calendar
isnt crowded anymore for Fuzzy Phogg, it seems he, too, might just
miss Christmas this year.

Another group of people who were likely to miss the holiday were
the lawyers involved in the legal wrangling surrounding whether the
Small University Pupils Recreational Association championship game
would be played at all. Apparently, the name SUPRA Bowl sounds
very similar to the name associated with another football
organizations championship game played in February. That other
football organization filed suit in the Conestoga County Court of
Common Pleas asking Judge Ned Knott to enjoin Oxthorn University
from participating in the game. Both SUPRA and the other football
organization had lawyered up, each side working 12 hour days, 7 days
a week, deposing coaches, executives, and fans, and inundating their
indecisive jurist with mountains of motions and briefs.
Judge Knott was paralyzed by the number of decisions awaiting
his judicial determination. He went to Mass at St. Wenceslas every
week, but Father Opus homilies about peace on earth and good will
towards all people seemed dissonant to the field of litigation, which,
like the sport underlying the lawsuit he was to adjudicate, is a win-lose
game. There is little room for peace or good will in the trenches of
adversarial trial law. After all, one side wanted him to prevent the
SUPRA Bowl altogether, and the other side wanted him to pave the
way for the game by enjoining the professional league from seeking
any more injunctions. Each side had several layers of confidentlooking, earnest advocates, each of whose opposing arguments and
precedents seemed equally impressed to Judge Knott.
On the morning of December 24th, the Olde Fashioned Christmas
drew hundreds of people into the village of Yellow Springs. Godfrey
led a convoy of Fallow Farm buses and vans into town. He spent much
of the day at the gift-wrapping station outside the Variety Show a
donation-based enterprise that allowed shoppers to go into the
auditorium for the show while volunteers wrapped their gifts.
Mrs. Livingston had not planned to bring Fuzzy into town that
day. Nevertheless, after she helped him with his morning
constitutionals, Fuzzy seemed unusually alert. Mrs. Livingston offered
to take him on a short stroll from the house out to the Cottage, but as

they walked past the van, Fuzzy reached and opened the passenger
side door.
Can we go somewhere? he asked tentatively.
Mrs. Livingston knew Fuzzy hadnt been off the property for
anything other than a doctors visit in months, but she was unfazed.
She always kept a travel bag ready at all times so that she could
accommodate Fuzzy whenever and however he might need her.
As she drove a short distance into the Village, Mrs. Livingston
quietly reminded Fuzzy that it was Christmastime. The reminder was
necessary, in part, because the Phogg home had no holiday
decorations, mostly because Coach Philo was working such long hours
that he hadnt had time to get a tree or put lights on the evergreens
outside.
The village will be full of people, Mrs. Livingston spoke to
Fuzzy. She prepared him for the likelihood that they would run into
someone whose name Fuzzy wouldnt remember. She hated to see
Fuzzy grow frustrated at such encounters. Fuzzy listened to Mrs.
Livingston. With a gentle smile, he asked, I think I was popular once,
wasnt I?
Mrs. Livingston laughed, Mr. Phogg: you still are!
When they arrived at the Wanabakers building, Mrs. Livingston
helped Fuzzy into a wheelchair that he really didnt need, but which
made it much easier for him to get around. They went into the Variety
Show just in time to see a duo dressed like Bing Crosby and Danny
Kaye acting out a scene from White Christmas. Fuzzy had seen the
movie when it first came out in 1954, and it had caught his eye on
television a dozen or more times over the years, but it didnt seem to
ring any bells this time. Although Fuzzys eyes were open and even
occasionally blinking, Mrs. Livingston couldnt tell where his mind
may have wandered to.
During the segue to the next act, Mrs. Livingston suggested that
they drive back home, but Fuzzy just sat there. He nodded slightly
when she asked if he wanted to stay. During the performances, Fuzzy
nodded in response to Mrs. Livingstons periodic question, but he
didnt seem to have any words to share when she asked whether he
liked some of the other acts, like Molly Magnus reading of her

childrens book, or Fern Flegelhoffers skits about treating people

properly.
Coach Philo called Mrs. Livingston cell phone throughout the day.
He was concerned that they were gone from the house so long. How
is he doing?
Were fine. Its a good show, Mrs. Livingston told him. But I
dont think that your father really knows where we are or what day
tomorrow is.
Sorry to hear it. When Mrs. Livingston first reported that they
were going downtown, Philo had hoped that perhaps some of the
festivities would remind his father about Christmas.
The next act in the Show was a nativity story written by Godfrey
Swenchs successor at Yellow Springs Methodist, Rev. Stolucia
Stolzfus, set back in the time 250 years ago, when her native LeniLenape people were still the dominant culture in Conestoga County.
Fuzzy Phogg sat there, occasionally blinking, but not really reacting to
anything that he saw or heard.
Mrs. Livingston again asked about going home, bur Fuzzy shook
his head. The next act was the hypnotist, The Amazing Harry
Hypnini, whom some in the audience remembered is the former
Ichabod Ichthorp who went to Conestoga County schools 20 years
ago. Since then, Ichabod developed a magic/hypnotist show, travelling
the country and visiting countless indistinguishable minor league
venues.
Some hypnotists meet with patients in private therapy sessions,
explained Hypnini to his dubious audience, But I use the ancient art
of hypnosis to entertain and delight! Hypnini cautioned that he could
not hypnotize anyone who did not want to be hypnotized. Hypnosis
doesnt restore lost memories, he explained, but sometimes,
hypnosis can allow us to focus our attention and eliminate distractions
so that our minds are clear to focus.
When Hypnini asked for a volunteer to come on stage for the
demonstration, Durwood Dauerditters hand shot straight up. The
fifteen-year old wore a sheepish grin as he went forward. Hypnini
lowered the house lights and asked Durwood to shut his eyes. For a
few minutes, Hypninis microphone amplified his soft-spoken

suggestions that Durwood should relax, breathe deeply, and let his
mind become blank.
To everyone in the audience, Hypninis soothing instructions were
a series of soft, short sentences, but to Durwood, his mind slipped into
a rare state. When Hypnini counted one, two, three, Durwood opened
his eyes and could see where he was, but somehow, it didnt seem real.
What did seem real was what Hypnini suggested. You are Santa,
heavy with a white beard and a full bag of toys for the children.
Durwood responded by emitting a gregarious ho ho ho while acting
as if he were slinging a sack onto his back. For the next several
minutes, Durwood acted out Hypninis suggestion that he deliver gifts
to people who would come up onto the stage and sit on the thin, young
mans lap. The audience howled as Durwood followed Hypninis
suggestion to greet Herbert Harper, a heavy-set middle-aged man, by
asking What do you want for Christmas, little girl?
After twenty minutes, Hypnini counted to three and snapped his
fingers. Durwood blinked, shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs,
and announced, that was weird!
Hypnini asked what it had felt like, and Durwood explained that
although he could see the audience and he knew he was in an
auditorium, the suggested-reality seemed more real to him than the
real-reality.
And wouldnt that be nice, Hypnini asked as Durwood returned
to his seat, if we could do that if we could replace the harshest
realities of our lives with the kind of good will and peace that we hear
about at Christmas? Lets try this I want all of you to slowly shut
your eyes.
Over the years, Hypnini had honed his Christmastime act by
having the audience pretend to be shepherds, and then he would recite
the angelic Christmas announcement. Then hed snap his fingers to
awaken the audience, and everyone applaud in stunned amazement,
having just experienced what each of them thought the Christmas
shepherds might have felt.
Hypnini began by suggesting, You are all shepherds, tending
your flocks by night, and around the auditorium, you could hear
audience members speaking the way they imagined a shepherd might
act, calling things like, here, little sheep here, sheep, sheep, sheep.

Hypnini kept it up for a few minutes, until everyone who wanted to be

a part of the experiment had enough time to relax and clear their mind.
Youre all shepherds, Hypnini repeated, and its a bleak,
midwinters night a midnight clear, cold, with a gentle breeze
wafting by. For a moment, your sheep are safely accounted for.
This was the part of his act where Hypnini would become overly
dramatic, acting the part of the Angel Gabriel. He had arranged for a
spotlight to shine on him as he recited with crescendo, And, lo, the
angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone
round about them! And they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto
them,
And just, then, Fuzzy Phogg startled Mrs. Livingston and the rest
of the audience by interrupting, loudly and boldly, just as he had
proclaimed all those years as the Advent lectionary reader:
Fear not! For, behold, I bring you tidings to great
joy, which shall be to all my people. For unto you is
born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is
Christ, the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye
shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying
in a manger.
If the former Ichabod Ichthorp were thrown off by the unexpected
intrusion, he sure didnt show it. Instead, he picked up at the next line,
suggesting to his audience that they were now angels. You are part of
the multitude of the heavenly host, he suggested, and you are
praising God and saying.
Instinctively, Fuzzy Phogg declared with the same deep,
bellowing voice that used to call to players from the football sidelines,
Glory to God in the Highest, and on Earth peace,
and good will toward men!
Throughout the Wanabakers auditorium, several hundred people
began a cacophony of off-key, tuneless repetitions of that ancient
phrase, peace on earth, good will toward men. Then the Amazing
Harry Hypnini corralled everyones attention when he authoritatively
counted, one, Two, THREE! and snapped his fingers.
And in that instant, reality again descended on Fuzzy Phogg. Mrs.
Livingston asked him if he was alright, but the bright glimmer of vim

and vigor that had filled his Biblical recitation was gone. Do you
want to go home now, she asked quietly, and this time, Fuzzy agreed.
The rest of the day and all of the next was a blur for most
Conestoga Countians. Those who celebrate Christmas had celebratory
dinners, went to church, and listened for reindeer on the roof, and
opened presents. The Oxthorn Oxen and their loyal fans took charter
flights out of Yellow Springs, beginning the journey to Minnesota. The
lawyers for both SUPRA and the professional league grew both weary
of and wary of Judge Knotts indecisiveness, so they negotiated
tiated a
resolution that neither side liked, but which allowed the SUPRA Bowl
to be played. Godfrey, Gertrude, and countless others went to work on
Christmas, providing the services that the rest of the County needed.
Philo Phogg Skyped with Fuzzy on Christmas
tmas Day, but the retired
coach had no recollection of his energetic participation in a hypnotic
Christmas pageant the day before.
But thats what Christmas is like in Yellow Springs this year. We
are all so busy just trying to keep up, just trying to finish
ish the year and
get through the difficulties, and were lucky very lucky -- if we have
more than a brief moment to experience the wonder and joy of Santa,
or the love of the Christ child in the manger. And yet even if
Christmas is merely a suggested-reality
lity that lasts only until the next
finger-snap,
snap, we are grateful for that brief, tantalizing, hypnotizing
glimpse of grace.

Acknowledgements

Godfrey Swenchs injuries mirror the ones I caused myself with a

ladder fall in November. A tip of my Christmas cap to my daughter
Maggie, whose commitment to a public program aimed at reducing
the risk of campus violence against women is a school-year
school
long quest
as she completes
ompletes high school. Thanks also to my son, Dyson, whose
participation in a hypnotists show gave me a literary vehicle to share
the challenges of the fading of someones facilities. My daughter
Abbys collaboration on the newly-published
published Madam President:
President Five
Women Who Paved the Way is quite exciting. You can order it on
Amazon.