Welcome to Yellow Springs!

If you are new to my Yellow Springs Stories, welcome, and

thanks for stopping by! My “Yellow Springs” was born in
1985 when my Dad and I took Mom out for a birthday
dinner at the now-defunct Yellow Springs Inn. Being a
storyteller by nature (which is not a high calling, I assure
you), I began telling imaginary tales about the dour people
depicted in the Inn’s18th Century wall portraits. Buttressed
by bourbon that night, I coined the families ‘Oxthorn’ and
‘Swench’ as my town’s non-native founders. When invited to
speak at church gatherings back then, I’d tell a Yellow
Springs tale, and the village began to grow, at least in my
mind. A few years later, I heard a cute Christmas song that I
thought merited a longer story.1 I wrote “The Last Child in
Line” about the final kid to climb atop a tired, shopping mall
Santa’s knee. It was a syrupy story that I now find far too
sanctimonious. The next year, I wrote “The Last Gift at the
Manger,” in which I began introducing characters with
unusual alliterative names – people who would appear in
many subsequent stories. Which I mention because you
might wonder, “Why did Bill waste the space (and ink) to
include So-and-So such a short appearance in this story?”
Well, the answer would be that I’ve really come to know
some of the folks in Yellow Springs, and I miss them when
they’re not in the story.
When I began writing Christmas tales thirty years ago,
Yellow Springs was a homogeneous, isolated, two-
dimensional community that I made revolve around a
Methodist Church – because that’s the kind of church I went
to. But I grew and evolved, and so did my fictional Conestoga
County. Today, Yellow Springs is home to diverse, multi-

1
The song was “I Want My Daddy for Christmas” ©1983 Neworld Media Music Publishing, Dellorco / Kevin Hunter / Ed Morneau / Noel Paul Stookey, released on Bodyworks circa 1983, and
recorded by Noel Paul Stookey (of the ‘60’s folk group, Peter, Paul, and Mary) and written by “Greg Somethin’ Special, 2018.
©2021 William D. Kennedy, OxthornSwench@gmail.com -1-
cultural, and welcoming people who, like me, are just trying
to figure it all out. I hope you enjoy your visit!
As he days of the year dwindled, Conestoga County
basked in the balmy, high-forties-- temperatures they used to
call “unseasonable,” but which have now become
commonplace. Not a decade ago, by early December, snow
would pave the path from ski trails at Slippery Slopes on
down into Martyr’s Park in the center of Yellow Springs;
nowadays, the thermometer hasn’t dropped below 35 even at
night.
Here in the second Winter of COVID, they’re trying to
have a holiday atmosphere throughout the County, but it’s
been difficult. There have been too many losses – both of
people and incomes. The downtown shopping district is so
strapped that they chose not to pay Cletus from the
Maintenance Department for the overtime he’d need to put
up the Christmas lights. The shops on Main Street were
unadorned until Felix Flegelhoffer stepped up to underwrite
Cletus’ costs. The Scouts always sell Christmas trees, wreaths,
and greens over at the perpetually vacant lot near
Flegelhoffer’s Fair Value, but this year, the vacant lot is still
vacant; the warm, dry summer stunted the growth of the
trees out at the Timberwip’s Tree Farm, and there aren’t
enough evergreens to go around.
Even Santa’s pre-Christmas tour of the village was
different this year. By custom, on the second Saturday in
December, Santa Claus visits the town, waving to children
from atop the Fire Brigade’s shiniest vehicle. But this year,
Rex and Reese, the 45 year-old Ripzenhort twins decided that
Santa shouldn’t merely climb atop the truck, but instead
should publicly descend onto the fire truck from a zipline in
a live-streamed ceremony. They installed a thick, stainless
steel cable on the old fire Lookout Tower along the
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Whiskeywine Creek and connected it to the fire engine
below.
Reese tested it without incident. But Rex is the substitute
Santa every year, and he weighs a lot more. A crowd
gathered and a videographer was live-
streaming as a fully Santa-fied Rex
zipped down the line, hanging from the
trolley pulley. But as Reese sped along,
the line sagged -- he was coming in too
low. Ziplines have brakes, of course, but
Rex thought braking was undignified.
And so the Fire Brigade live-streamed the collision of Santa
tumbling into the side of Engine #5. The good news,
however, is that the mishap showed how fast the Advanced
Life Support team could get someone to the hospital.
Another holiday custom returned this year: school holiday
concerts. It was a bit odd seeing the high school singers
standing 6 feet apart instead of shoulder-to-shoulder, but
choir director Al ToVoysis was just happy to have the kids
singing again. This year, the Girls’ Chorale had one startling
sight-and-sound: a bass. You see, back on School Day One,
10th grader Windsor Wildauer walked into the tiered
rehearsal classroom at the time for the female chorus, which
confused Al ToVoysis because the scruffy-faced baritone boy
was clearly not a girl.
“I think you’re in the wrong class,” Al suggested.
“I think I’m not,” Windsor responded. “My guidance
counselor told me that I can’t be in Concert Choir if I want to
take AP Chem, which I need to take this year so I can take
Algebra II and AP Physics over the next two years. But I want
to sing, so I asked if I could sign up for this choir instead.”
Windsor added, “That’s if you’re okay with breaking
heteronormative expectations.”
 Well, as a matter of fact, Al ToVoysis was perfectly fine in
upsetting gender stereotypes. He welcomed Windsor into the
Women’s Chorale, which is why when the kids processed
down the auditorium aisles for the diverse, if not clumsily
timed, culturally ecumenical Winter & Christma-Kwanz-
nukkah-wali Concert, they were dressed in crisp, white tops
and black pants instead of the long dresses of yesteryear. Mr.
ToVoysis arranged the repertoire to add a baritone part so
that Windsor’s warm tones were welcome within the chords.
Afterwards, with customary cluelessness, Principal Percy
Trilcheck praised the choir director. “I thought the Girls’
Chorale sounded particularly well-rounded this year.”
“Thank you. But,” Mr. ToVoysis added, “from now on, it’s
just called the ‘Chorale,’ and I’m opening it to kids of any
gender for next semester.”
This December is also the time for the high school musical.
Due to COVID, kids have lost the spring show the past two
years. To reduce the risk of losing another, they moved up
this year’s production. They’re doing a song-and-dance
rendition of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Kirk
Korfman from the English Department is directing. He rented
elaborate backdrops and furnishings for all the 19th Century
scenes. Just before the dress rehearsal, Kirk managed to find
a dry ice machine to create the fog for the scary, penultimate
Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come scene.
Which, it turns out, is not the kind of thing you should
rent at the last minute, at least not if you don’t really know
how to use it. You see, Kirk was frustrated during the Dress
Rehearsal. “This is the crucial scene in the play!” he told the
cast and crew. “The silent Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come
points Scrooge to his own tombstone. You,” Kirk addressed
TeJuan Timberwip who was playing Scrooge, “are panic-
stricken by the future that has been shown you. And you”
Kirk said dramatically to Tara Tyck, who plays the ghoulish
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third Spirit, “you are the silent soul of the show! Wordlessly
from beneath your hooded cloak, you draw all eyes as you
gesticulate towards the cemetery. And you,” he addressed the
tech crew, “I need more fog! Much more!! Start it sooner and
pump out more on both sides of the set, okay?”
Which is how it came to be that
on opening night, fog from the dry
ice machine began billowing its
dense mist onto the set before the
end of the preceding scene. By the
time Scrooge stood with the final Spirit of his sleep-deprived
night, the thick, dense, foaming fog had flooded the stage.
The manmade mist swelled over the footlights before TeJuan
got to Scrooge’s fulcrum line: “Are these the shadows of the
things that Will be, or are they shadows of the things that
May be only?”
Which is supposed to be the big moment for Tara, the
Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, standing atop heavy
platform shoes that elevate her to nearly eight feet --
footwear so cumbersome that Tara couldn’t walk in them;
instead, they carried her into place during the scene change.
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is supposed drape an
arm on Scrooge and point him to his tombstone, thereby
forcing him to confront his mortality. The only problem was
that the fog had overwhelmed the stage so much that TeJuan
had lost track of where Tara was. As fresh fog foamed,
TeJuan had gotten entirely turned around, unable to discern
upstage from back nor right from left.
TeJuan’s next line was supposed to be “Men’s courses will
foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they
must lead,” followed by his epiphanic line, “But if the
courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus
with what you show me!” Instead, however, the anxious
actor was wholly missing in the mist, vexed by the
voluminous vapor. TeJuan wandered and wobbled
uncertainly in one direction then another, completely
discombobulated. Ad libbing, Scrooge cried, “Ghost? Yo,
Ghostie?? Where are you?!?”
TeJuan’s spontaneous speech presented Tara with a
conundrum: her haunting, imposing character is mute. She
couldn’t just call out to TeJuan -- she had to wait for him to
find her. From high atop her platform shoes, she paused until
TeJuan wobbled in arm’s reach, then bent down and hugged
him tightly.
“Oh, thank God!” Scrooge exclaimed. The audience roared
with laughter at the decidedly non-Dickensian utterance.
TeJuan continued, “I didn’t know where you were – but,
wow, you were right here, right in front of me, the whole
time!”
Godfrey Swench got quite the chuckle out of the entire
incident. Afterwards, Godfrey and his son Jake waited for the
Director in the hallway beside the auditorium. Thea -- Jacob
and Kirk’s five year-old daughter -- pulled from her
grandfather’s grip as Kirk came through the swinging doors.
“Daddy!” she called excitedly from behind her mask, “I
loved it! It wa’n’t too scary, and it was really funny when that
last ghost got lost in the foggy fog!”
“Yeah, that was funny alright,” Kirk agreed with a masked
sarcasm that flew over his daughter’s head. “A hyperactive
productive fog machine is a real knee slapper.”
Thea frowned in confusion; ‘knee slapper’ was not a
phrase familiar to her. She bent down and whapped her
hand upon her knee. “Ouch!” she complained, “That’s not
funny at all!”
Jacob explained the idiom as parents of the play’s
participants approached Kirk with congratulations, leaving
Jacob to explain the idiomatic expression to their daughter.
Godfrey drifted off to the side, but his son-in-law called him
-4-
back. “Godfrey,” Kirk introduced, “these are Tyler and Teresa
Tyck, the parents Tara, of our evocative Ghost of Christmas
Yet to Come.” He told the parents, “Godfrey is my father-in-
law.”
After the nice-to-meet-you’s and fist bumps, realization
reached Teresa Tyck. Her eyes widened. “Oh, wait – you’re
that Godfrey Swench – from the World Improvement
Organization!”
Godfrey had never thought about himself being ‘that
Godfrey Swench’ in any context; as far as he knew, he was
the only Godfrey Swench. “Ahh, well, yes, I do work for
WIO,” he admitted.
Teresa Tyck pulled him closer to her, conspiratorially. Her
mask muted her remarks. “When the gym laid us off, your
gift to us last Christmas was a godsend,” she whispered.
Godfrey nodded so that Teresa knew she need say no
more. He was the Chief-Doler-Out-of-Money for a
philanthropic organization that had been the lifeline for
many who lost earnings or income during COVID’s first year.
“Wait,” interjected Tyler Tyck, “I thought you were a
minister? At the Methodist church? My grandmother, Agnes
Tyck, used to sing in the choir there at Christmas. We always
went there on Christmas Eve.”
From behind his mask, Kirk smirked as he watched his
father-in-law try to absorb the conversational confusion.
Godfrey’s career was a lot to keep track of. Since left the
church, he had held posts in academia, senior housing, his
wife’s catering company, and, most recently, philanthropy.
Godfrey remembered Agnes Tyck quite well. “Yes, I was
the pastor at the church, and I later served as Chaplain at the
Fallow Farm retirement community where I got to know your
grandmother even better. She was a good woman.”
Teresa recalled, “You did Agnes’ funeral, didn’t you?”
 “Of course!” Tyler added. To Kirk, he explained,
“Grandma didn’t want a religious service, but your father-
in-law did a super job as the master of ceremonies over at
the Solis Memorial Home.”
Godfrey wasn’t sure he had ever heard of there being an
emcee at a funeral, but he wasn’t about to quibble. Godfrey
remarked, “I’m still sorry for your loss” – a turn of phrase he
used often and usually, as now, meant genuinely.
Teresa Tyck remembered something else she had heard
about Godfrey; she put her hand on Godfrey’s arm and
added, “As we are for yours…”
Godfrey lost Trudy just after Christmas last year. She had
been the love of his life, having met her at a Hot Dog Royale
where they worked after school more than forty years ago. At
the time, Godfrey was an honest 16; Trudy was an older
looking 14-year-old who lied about her age to get the job.
They became friends, then fell in love as people do. They
were each other’s respective prom dates, even after Godfrey
went off to college. Trudy had plenty of other suitors along
the way, but Godfrey was always a bit awkward, and he
never actually dated anyone else.
They became best friends. They married, and Jacob was
their only begotten son. Trudy had come from a large
German family; that another child did not come forth was,
Trudy would admit, a frustration that grieved her from time
to time. When Jacob reached school age, Trudy began
cooking for a local caterer, from whom she later bought the
business, renamed it Trudy’s Treats, built it into a multi-site
operation in several states, sold it, and was staying on as a
full-time consultant when COVID hit.
Back when Godfrey was a religious professional, Trudy
had helped sharpen his sermons, often cross-examining him,
urging he be direct and just say what he was trying to say.
-5-
Trudy was the antithesis of the prototypical protestant
pastor’s partner. She led neither the children’s choir nor the
Sunday School. As a working mother, she had no interest in
the women’s clubs that were popular back-in-the-day. At
first, Trudy didn’t even come to church every week, rather
enjoying having a few hours to herself on Sunday morning.
But she began hearing that when she wasn’t there, Godfrey
illustrated his messages with tales from his own household;
from then on, Trudy attended every sermon Godfrey ever
preached, just to make sure that he never discussed family
details again.
And then it came to pass in those pre-vaccine days of late-
last year that Trudy fell ill with COVID. The Trudy’s Treats
business had converted to a health care food service, and the
enterprise insisted on everyone being hyper-safe with masks,
gloves, and other steps to prevent COVID transmission. All of
which made it worse when contact tracing and blood tests
confirmed Trudy got the virus from her son-in-law Kirk’s
parents -- folks who had long eschewed mask-wearing and
hand washing. They had made a surprise visit to see their
granddaughter Thea without appreciating how easily
immunocompromised people like Trudy could be mortally
infected.
By mid-December, Trudy was in the intensive care unit at
‘HOX,’ -- the Hospital at Oxthorn University. Like many of
the other five million people whom we have lost to the
inscrutable infection, Trudy’s course was mostly downhill
and solitary; an iPad was the only connection she had with
her family in her final days.
Godfrey, Jacob, and Kirk were devastated by Trudy’s
passing. Of course, they had Thea to care for, and they did as
best they could, all of them living under the same roof, but it
hasn’t been an easy year. Support groups have helped, and
Godfrey meets regularly with a grief counselor. And he
found one of this past year’s tasks to be oddly comforting:
executing Trudy’s will. The task of being Trudy’s executor
has not been a difficult job --a few checks written to favorite
charities, a few personal effects passed along to family
members -- that sort of thing. But every time Godfrey opens
his “Executor” file, he feels more connected to his Trudy, as
if she were still there, telling him to take a deep breath,
assuring him that everything will be alright.
And as the year draws to a close, Godfrey has but one
more of Trudy’s final wishes to fulfill: disposing of a jeweled
ring that once belonged to a great-grandmother. Godfrey
had it appraised -- it’s worth a considerable amount -- so he
very much wants to give it to the person that Trudy selected:
her late-sister’s daughter, Kasha Krepshaw. The only problem
was finding Kasha.
The subject of the missing heir came up at Thanksgiving,
when Godfrey’s brother Sinbad returned to Yellow Springs.
Kirk was the feast’s primary chef, which relegated Godfrey
and Sinbad to dishwasher duty. Godfrey adorned his heavy,
purple latex gloves, soaking the dishes and soaping the once-
a-year roasting pan while Sinbad handwashed the
silverware.
Sinbad’s wife Sadie carried in the serving bowls. Hearing
the brothers swapping snappy one-liners, she said, “You
know, your parents must have had a heck of a sense of
humor when you were born.”
“Whaddaya mean?” they asked in unintentional unison.
“Well, here you are, the grandsons of one Methodist
pastor and nephews of another, and they call their first kid
‘Sin-bad’ and their second kid ‘God-free’! A reprobate and an
atheist!”
Sinbad smirked, “They did it to get under Grampa’s skin.”
-6-
Sadie nudged her utensil-washing husband aside, saying
“You’re not doing it right,” but she said it softly, which told
Sinbad that this was to be her time to talk to Godfrey alone.
Sadie asked casually, “How’re you doing?”
“How are you doing?” It’s a question that gets asked a lot
at family gatherings. It can mean anything from “Do you still
have a job?” or “Do you need money?” or “Is your marriage
okay?” to “Are you still in remission?” It’s an inquiry that
lets the interrogatee decide how deeply to answer. Godfrey
kept his eyes down, focusing intently on baked-on debris in
the roasting pan. “Some days, alright, ….” The words choked
in his throat. “…but some days, not so good.”
Sadie nodded, then silently scrubbed more silverware,
letting Godfrey choose the direction of the conversation. But,
of course, there are times when words utterly fail. Death --
of parents, siblings, a spouse, or even worse, a child -- is
such a time.
Godfrey tried to sound upbeat. “I’m just about through
with the Estate issues,” he said, “thanks again for your help
with wrapping the leftover business issues from Trudy’s
Treats. I’d have never figured out all that
stuff.”
Godfrey added, “I’m really just down to the
last task. Trudy’s mother passed down a ring
that goes back to her great-grandmother Gerhardt in
Bavaria.The ring includes diamonds encircling an oval
sapphire, mounted on a gold band. She wanted it to go to
her niece -- her sister Gretel’s daughter, Kasha.”
“Kasha Krepshaw,” Sadie pulled the name from her
memory bank. “Last I saw her was at her parents’ funeral.
Oh, what an awful time that was!”
Godfrey clenched his lips and nodded. Trudy’s sister Gretel
and her husband Karl died in an auto accident decades ago,
leaving their only child, then an impressionable 14 years-
old. Godfrey and Trudy took in Kasha for the next three years
of profound grief, anger, inexplicable loss, and high school.
Sadie said tentatively, “I remember Trudy telling me that
Kasha was quite shaken up in Iraq.”
Godfrey nodded. “Three tours of duty, and wounded each
time. When she finally mustered out, Trudy and I wanted her
to come live with us, but she didn’t stay long.”
“Or maybe it’s that she ‘couldn’t,’” Jacob offered as he
brought salad bowls in to be washed. He added kindly, “My
cousin has a lot of problems. She has trouble keeping a job,
and she always seems to be on-the-move.” He asked his
father, “Remember when we found her at that shelter in the
City a few years ago? I know she knew who we were -- she
called me ‘Jakester,’ just like when I was little.”
Godfrey remembered. “Kasha was pretty messed up when
she came back the last time -- wounded, scarred,
traumatized, and addicted to the opioids they gave her for
the pain. We lost touch with her for years at a time. But Lord
knows, Trudy and I tried to find her. And now, somehow, it
seems really important to pass along this heirloom ring to
her. Like it might remind her of family who love her, you
know? Maybe you have an idea to help me? You must have
had to hunt down a missing heir every now and then.”
Sadie suggested, “Have you tried the contacting the
Veterans’ Administration? They can forward a message to a
veteran if they’ve had a claim for benefits, which I’m sure
Kasha must have. They might have a current address.”
Godfrey gave it a shot – and shortly before Christmas, he
got a response. At the time, he was checking email on his cell
phone while seated at a table at Harry C’s, the local watering
hole where he would soon meet members of Conestoga
County’s clergy for their End-of-Year toast.
-7-
“Hello, Godfrey!” called Bhaji Bhajan, the Granthi at the
nearby gurdwara. Then, seeing Godfrey’s distracted look, he
asked, “Everything alright, my friend?”
“What? Oh, hello, Bhaji, good to see you! Yes, everything
is fine. I just got a disappointing email, that’s all.”
Setting down his cell phone, Godfrey adjusted to the
celebratory mood, greeting each of the gang as they arrived.
Within a few minutes, they were all together -- Father Opus
Magnus from St. Wenceslas, Iman Idris Ibrahim from the
Islamic Fellowship, Pastor Evan Jay L’Ecole from the
Community Bible Church, Rabbi Sol Silver from Beth Shalom,
and Rev. Charli Chypper, who was the Methodist
denomination’s fifth attempt to fill the Yellow Spring pulpit
since Godfrey resigned. Harry McGregor, the eponymous
taproom owner, served the first round of appetizers and
drinks – ginger ale for some, wine for others. He offered the
group a hackneyed greeting: “Every year, when I see a priest,
a rabbi and the rest of you walk my bar, I swear, I think it’s a
joke….”
The group groaned at the low-grade humor. They were all
vaccinated now, and the older among them, like Godfrey,
had been boostered. Oddly, despite the wide mile of
differences between their various backgrounds and
purported beliefs (or lack thereof), the original quintet of
Opus, Godfrey, Sol, Idris, and Bhaji had become close friends.
Last year, they welcomed Evan Jay, and this year, they added
Charli.
Sol tried to needle the priest. “So, Opus, what have you in
store for this year for the worship of that nice Jewish baby,
Y’shua Ben Yosef?”
Bhaji mused, “I have always wondered why Christians
refer to a Jewish man by a transliterated Greek name.”
 Evan Jay dove right in on that. “Oh, we use dozens of
names or titles. There’s ‘Lord,’ 'the Good Shepherd,’ ‘Morning
Star,’ and ‘Lamb of God,’ to mention just a few.”
The reference to ‘Lamb of God’ harkened Opus back to the
Latin Mass he learned so long ago: Agnus Dei, qui tollis
peccata mundi, miserere nobis. He recited, “Lamb of God,
who taketh away the
sins of the world, have
mercy on us.”
Idris caught Sol’s eye.
“You and I understand that our common prophet Isaiah was
talking about King Hezekiah of Judah in chapter 9, verse 6,
but I think our Christian colleagues would say it gives us a
multiple choice quiz of names for the baby Jesus: Wonderful
Counselor….”
Godfrey added, “Mighty God,” after which Charli picked
up with a vocal rendition of “the everlasting Father,” and
they all sang together the final phrase, “the Prince of Peace,”
from Handel’s Messiah’s “For Unto Us A Child Is Born.”
Evan Jay laughed. “I didn’t know you all would know that
song!”
Idris raised his eyebrows in mock horror. “What do you
think we are – ‘heathens’?!?” – knowing full well that Evan
Jay formerly thought that.
Sol added, “I don’t think it’s that unusual for someone to
be known by different names. I know Sarah,” -- his wife --
“has quite a few choice ones for me sometimes!”
They all laughed. By now, they knew each other’s spouses
and families. And each of them had been unfailing in their
support for Godfrey, the lone non-cleric among them, after
Trudy’s sudden loss. Which is why they, like Godfrey’s sister-
in-law Sadie at Thanksgiving, asked, “How’re you doing?”
in that interpret-this-as-you-choose tone of voice.
-8-
Godfrey acknowledged his ongoing grief -- “you never get
over a loss like this,” -- but he reassured his friends that he
was getting help as needed. To change subjects, he again
turned to his role as Executor, mentioning that he had just
gotten some disappointing news from the VA: they had no
listing for anyone by the name of Kasha Krepshaw.
“That’s odd,” Father Opus agreed, “Trudy’s niece is a
veteran, and didn’t she go to the VA clinic for a while?”
“Yes, so I thought that they’d have some record of her.”
“I was in the Navy, back in the day,” Charli Chypper
mentioned, surprising some at the table, “and when I first
tried to sign up for benefits, I had a hard time getting
registered because of my name.”
“Was it one of those ‘married name versus maiden name’
mix-ups?” Idris asked.
“No -- I never took my husband’s name,” Charli shrugged.
“It was my own name -- and I’m the one who messed it up!”
she laughed. “I was just a kid when I went into the service. It
was decades before I went back to the VA, and I had been
going by my Americanized name for so long that I had
forgotten that I used to use my Polish surname back then.”
Evan Jay doubted he could even pronounce her Polish
name.
“You can pronounce it, but you probably can’t read it,”
Charli agreed. “The Polish alphabet is Latin-based, but we
have lots of different accent marks; we pronounce some
combinations of letters differently than in English. My Polish
name is C-z-y-p-e-k, and it’s pronounced ‘Tchepp-ehk.’ But
no one could pronounce it properly. In the Navy, I was
mostly just called ‘Chipper.’ And people were already fooled
by my first name – Charli -- which is odd, because I had
hardly ever known any male ‘Charlies’ where I grew up!
Anyhow, when I got out, I changed my name from Charlene
Czypek to what everyone knew me as: Charli Chipper.”
 Godfrey wondered if Charli had known about the potato
chip company that used to deliver distinctive tins. He thought
it best not to ask.
Sol mentioned, “My ancestors spoke Yiddish; they were
Ashkenazi Jews – the ‘Silbers’ from the Rhine River valley.”
Bhaji said, “We Bhajans emigrated from India after the
Second World War, but we kept our name.”
“Us, too,” added Idris.
Godfrey opined, “As bad as these days are for immigrants,
I think it used to be even worse.”
“It was,” Charli concurred. “Millions of Poles came over in
the 18th and 19th Centuries, and back then, it was harsh.”
“I didn’t know that,” Evan Jay remarked. “I took a course
on immigration at Baptist Bay Bible College, and I don’t recall
hearing about Poles.”
“That’s because we weren’t our own country at the time,”
Charli explained with just a touch of irritation in her voice.
“There was a Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth for 300
years through the late-18th Century, but after that, we were
partitioned -- categorized as Russians, Prussians, Germans,
and Austrians. As we came to North America, our names
were changed -- often in the way I did with mine: something
that sounded like our Polish pronunciation.”
Opus turned to Godfrey and wondered, “I don’t suppose
there could have been a mix-up like that with your niece?”
“I don’t see how,” Godfrey frowned. “Her name is
Krepshaw – that’s English. Like Crenshaw, I think.”
Charli wondered, “You sure ‘bout that, Godfrey? If it’s
Krepshaw with a K, I’d ha’ thought it might be Polish.” She
added, “We Poles use the letter K liberally. You know,” she
suggested, “both me and the Bethlehem Baby had more than
one name -- maybe your niece did too.”
-9-
The group moved on to other subjects, eventually breaking
up their conclave only after ‘a good time was had by all.’ But
Godfrey was still thinking about what he had learned from
Charli when he, Jacob, Kirk, and little Thea gathered for
dinner the next night. They dined at the home of Godfrey’s
father, Sebastian Oxthorn Swench, VI – known to all as Seb –
over at Fallow Farm. Godfrey reported on the disappointing
email he had gotten from the VA “You don’t suppose Kasha
went by some other name, do you? Like, if she got married?”
Jacob shook his head. “I don’t remember hearing anything
about her getting married. She’s always had someone, but
marriage? I don’t think so.”
“We haven’t seen her in years, though; for all we know,
she might be married,” Godfrey posited.
“But if she were going by Krepshaw when she served,
wouldn’t they still have that name on record?” Kirk asked.
“I don’t actually know,” Godfrey admitted. “But I can find
out. The lady at the VA, Vicki, was very nice; she gave me her
phone number and invited me to call with any questions.”
Then he added, “You know, at our dinner last night, Charli
Chypper thought the name Krepshaw might have been
changed from something. Her surname ‘Chypper’
originated as some hard-to-spell Polish name.”
From the booster seat that she viewed more of as
a command center, Thea asked, “What’s ‘Polish’?”
Kirk explained, “People from a far-away country called
Poland are Polish, like how people in America are
American.”
“Well,” Seb said slowly, not entirely sure that he had
heard all of the conversation, being’s how his hearing isn’t
what it used to be. “I think Karl’s folks were Polish.”
Godfrey sat back in his chair. “What did you say??”
“Karl’s family – the Krepshaws. I remember them.” To
Kirk, who was unfamiliar with all the family members who
passed before he joined the family, Seb explained, “Trudy
was my daughter-in-law, of course, and her sister Gretel
married Karl Krepshaw, and Kasha was their daughter.”
Turning back to Godfrey, Seb remembered, “I met his folks at
some family events over the years, and I’d have sworn that
they talked about coming over after the War.
They kept their name, only they had to spell it
different, because no one could pronounce the
Polish spelling. It started with K, but then it
had a bunch of consonants.”
Kirk caught Jacob’s eyes with his own raised eyebrows.
“You mean, like, a ‘j’ and ‘p’?”
“Maybe. I don’t remember. It was decades ago.” Then Seb
recalled, “but I’m sure I have their Polish name in my
Rolodex from one of those return-address stickers everyone
used to have back in the ‘70’s. You know, the kind that
arrived free in the mail, with some charity asking for money?
The Krepshaw’s stickers still had their Polish spelling.”
Jacob held Kirk’s eyes as he asked, “Grampa, would you
mind if I went and got your Rolodex to take a look?”
He returned a few minutes later, and there, in Seb’s
distinctive handwriting from decades ago, was a card with a
return address label stapled onto it. A note indicated that the
card pertained to Stan and Anna Krepshaw, Karl’s parents.
Jacob read the spelling of the surname, “K-r-e-j-
p-c-i-o.”
Seb nodded. “That’s them. ‘Krehj-pisio,’ I guess.”
Godfrey Googled the name on his cell phone. “It’s
pronounced ‘Krehp-sheoh.’ That makes sense, then, doesn’t
it? Krehp-sheoh becomes Krepshaw! Wow -- K-r-e-j-p-c-i-o
– I don’t think I’ve ever seen that name before.”
But quietly, Jacob nodded to Kirk and said, “We have….”
-10-
The hunt for Kasha Krepshaw went into high gear. The
next morning Godfrey spoke with Vicky at the VA, asking if
they could try using a different spelling. A few hours later,
she called him back. “I’m really not supposed to be doing
this, but I have some news for you, Mr. Swench,” Vicki
began, and Godfrey caught the cautiousness in her voice. “I
still can’t find any ‘Kasha Krepshaw’ the way you spelled it,
but have identified records of a former service member, last
name ‘Krehp-sheoh’, spelled K-r-e-j-p-c-i-o, first name
‘Kasha’, spelled K-a-s-i-a.”
“That has to be her!” Godfrey cried excitedly. Eagerly, he
asked, “do you have an address for her?”
“I’m afraid not. There’s more I should tell you….”
Vicki at the VA explained that according to their records,
Kasia Krejpcio died two years ago. Godfrey took the news like
a punch the gut. He had spent months searching for Trudy’s
niece, hopeful that in giving her the family heirloom,
something positive would have come from losing his wife.
“There’s one more thing,” Vicki said quietly. “Kasia
Krejpcio received an honorable discharge with a service-
connected disability. And the Social Security Administration’s
Disability people asked for her service records, which they do
if a vet applies for Disability benefits. Which I mention
because SSD has a ‘death benefit’ that her beneficiary might
be entitled to. And,” she added, “a life insurance company
also asked for our records, so you might want to contact
them.”
Godfrey disgusted by all this business-talk; he had just
learned of the passing of Trudy’s niece -- this was no time to
be talking about money!
“But, Mr. Swench,” Vicki suggested gently, “the life
insurance inquiry was just months before Ms. Krejpcio died.
People usually buy life insurance when they are trying to
provide financial support for someone -- perhaps a
beneficiary -- a spouse or a child -- that you don’t know
about?”
Well … Godfrey certainly hadn’t thought about that! He
thanked Vicki, then called his sister-in-law Sadie. “I think I
need some more help,” he began.
A few days later, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Sadie
Swench telephoned Godfrey; he took the call on speaker.
“You sitting down?” she asked as Godfrey waved for Jacob,
who works from home, to come over and join the call. “An
old classmate works for the life insurance company, and I got
some information fast. Get this: Kasha listed her beneficiary
as a child -- that’s probably why she got one of those
expensive, no-health-questions life insurance policies. She
wanted to make sure her child was protected if she died. And
we’re talking ‘college fund’ money here, Godfrey.”
Jacob announced that he was on the call, too. “Aunt Sadie,
do you have the name of the child?”
“Yes – hold on, I have to look it up. Yeah, here it is.”
Jacob preempted her. “Let me guess – the child’s name is
Dorota Krejpcio.”
“Why, as a matter of fact, yes!” Aunt Said was surprised.
“How did you know?”
“Aunt Sadie, can we call you back? I need to talk with
Dad.”
Jacob sat down next to his father; Kirk -- just home from
the last day of school before the holiday break -- joined them.
“I don’t know if you remember the details of how we came to
adopt Thea,” Jacob said. “The agency contacted us, but not
just because we’d had our names on the list of potential-
parents for a long time. Apparently, the birth-mother had
specifically asked that we be invited to adopt Thea.”
-11-
Jacob continued, “Dad, we’re just putting this all together
now -- back then, we didn’t know who the birth-mother
was; all we knew was that there was no father involved, that
the birth-mother had died, and that Thea had been in foster
care.”
“And there’s one more piece of information we have:” Kirk
said. “Thea’s birth name.”
Godfrey was confused, “Her birth name is Thea
Krepshaw?”
“Close,” Jacob said. “Thea’s birth name is Dorota
Krejpcio.”
Godfrey blinked uncertainly.
Kirk said, “Dorota is Polish for Dorothy. ‘Thea’ comes from
the Anglicized ‘Dorothea.’ The name is Greek for ‘God’s
Gift.’”
Jacob said, “We just knew her as ‘Thea,’ and we couldn’t
pronounce her native surname. But then, the other night,
when you told us about how ‘Krejpcio’ is the almost same
pronunciation as ‘Krepshaw,’ we realized something that we
had never even thought of: that Thea might be Cousin
Kasha’s kid.”
Godfrey was flabbergasted. The little girl who became
Jacob and Kirk’s daughter 21 months ago -- his
granddaughter -- was Trudy’s great-niece?!?
“Honestly, Godfrey,” Kirk hastened to add, “Jacob and I
are just figuring this out in real time, like you. We agreed
this morning to talk with you about all this after work
today.”
The boys were afraid that Godfrey was angry with them,
but he wasn’t angry at all -- he was just stupefied. ‘Just like
Zechariah’ thought Godfrey, recalling the first chapter of St.
Luke’s Gospel, where readers are given to understand that an
old-man was informed by an angel that his wife was
pregnant with a child who would become John-the-Baptist.
 Which is when they all heard a tiny voice: Thea had come
into the room to greet Kirk after work, but she suddenly P.S., you can find all of yesteryears’ Christmas stories on
stopped with a gasp when she saw the grown-ups. She saw Facebook, whether or not you have a Facebook page. Just type in
that they were Acting Very Serious. She only got this Serious “Yellow Springs Stories” in the Facebook search bar, or type in
when she had misplaced something important, like her this link, https://www.facebook.com/Yellow-Springs-Stories-
stuffed elephant, Ellie. “Grampa,” she asked, “are you 327847317242600 which will take you to an online repository,
looking for something??” Scribd.com, where all the stories can be found. Or just go to
Godfrey waved for Thea to come over, lifting her into a big https://www.scribd.com/user/116839579/Bill-Kennedy
bear hug. “My dear Granddaughter! Yes – yes, I was! I most ‘20 Nary Christmas Comforting carols carry a crushing COVID Christmas
certainly was looking for something! It turns out I was ‘19 Beary Christmas An orphaned bear cub fills a void at Christmas
‘18 Do Yews Hear What I Hear An Eagle Scout Project Reveals Family Secrets
looking for you! You are what I’ve been looking for! I didn’t
‘17 Taurus Wonder A backyard bull helps a priest and a politician.
know it, but it was you all along, right before my very eyes!” ‘16 Comforting Joy The familiarity of Christmas provides comfort
‘15 Santa Pause The town celebrates survival in a difficult year
And so, as the sun set on Christmas Eve, Godfrey marveled ‘14 Hypno-Holidays A hypnotist helps remember one final Christmas
‘13 Silver Belles A near-death experience transforms Christmas
anew. He hadn’t been a preacher in years, but he mused that ‘12 Weary Whirled Storm recovery unites diverse Conestoga Countians.
if they had needed a sudden substitute over at Yellow Springs ‘11 Habitate Humanity A civil protest group invades Yellow Springs
Methodist tonight, he’d have had a sermon ready -- one that ‘10 Advent Chores A Protestant pastor is changed by a leave of absence.
encouraged folks at Christmas to look carefully for ‘09 Walden Ponders Christmas contemplates new family relationships
unexpected blessings right in their very midst. ‘08 Santa Time A Physicist explains how Santa does it all in one night.
‘07 OB Joyful A Christmas delivery challenges a divided family.
‘06 Felix Navidad Can an injured widower find faith, hope, or love?
‘05 Call Waiting A Christmas call brings a change of heart.
‘04 Treasure Hunt Christmas in a senior center yields unwrappable gifts.
‘03 Focus on the Felony There's a Christmas criminal on the loose!
‘02 The Undeserved Gift What becomes of a Christmas crook?
‘01 Two Close for Comfort After 9/11, a family draws together and seeks hope.
‘00 Special Delivery A veterinarian assists an inopportune labor.
‘99 Silent Knight A silent savior rescues a returning resident.
‘98 The Enlightened Blackout A blizzard causes an evacuation.
‘97 Pillow Talk A grandmother’s leaves a legacy in her gifts.
‘96 Angus & the Lost Retriever The return of a runaway pet brings a new relationship.
‘95 Oliver & the Advent Adoption An only-child resists changes in a growing family
‘94 Wee Three Kings A rabbi instructs runaway children about the holidays.
‘93 The Last Gift at the Manger A child lost something -- or did his parents?
‘92 The Last Child In Line The final child challenges a shopping mall Santa

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