A Christmas Fish

a short Christmas story

By William Raser

 

            "Hey mom, what's a Christmas fish?"

            Miriam Collins stopped mixing the cookie dough, wiped her hands on her apron and turned to see her eight-year-old son looking up at her with that familiar quizzical expression.

            "A what?"

            "A Christmas fish," Jimmy repeated, "I heard Mr. Steinman talking about the tradition of giving people a Christmas fish."

            "Now what would Mr. Steinman know about Christmas?"  Miriam said to her son. Of course, she herself had no idea what a Christmas fish might be.  "Mr. Steinman is Jewish and doesn't celebrate Christmas," she said in a tone that indicated the matter was settled.

            "But I was in his store with my pal Artie," Jimmy insisted, "and I heard his grandpop talk about giving friends a Christmas fish."

            Although Millersville was a small midwestern town, it had a large enough Jewish community to warrant a Kosher butcher, a function Mr. Jacob Steinman had performed from the time he immigrated to America as a young man.

            "I really never heard of a Christmas fish, Jimmy, now run out and play," Miriam said shooing him out the door. "And keep your mittens on."

            Miriam Collins was now perplexed.  She hated it when she could not give Jimmy an answer for something, and she knew he would persist with her and everyone else until he had one.  And she really had no time to waste over Mr. Steinman's Christmas fish. The holiday was tomorrow and she still had her baking and other preparations to finish for the big family dinner.  Miriam crossed the kitchen and picked up the phone.  In matters of Christmas there was only one person to call.

            "Millersville Lutheran Church, Gladys speaking, how can I help you?"

            "It's Miriam, Gladys, can I speak to Pastor Gunderson?"

            "Miriam, are you baking your spice cookies again this year?  They were so..."

            "Could I please talk to the pastor?" Miriam interrupted, impatient and in no mood to talk about spice cookies.

            "Well, of course," Gladys sniffed in her most indignant tone.

            The phone clicked and the pastor came on the line.

            "Pastor Gunderson," Miriam began, "I know this will sound rather silly, but could you tell me what a Christmas fish is?"

"Well, uh, it..." Gunderson hesitated. "I really don't know of any reference to a Christmas fish.  The early Christians, of course, used a fish as their symbol, and there are quite a few references to fish, fishing and fishermen in the Bible, but I can't recall any mention of a specific fish  pertaining to Christmas.  Why do you ask, Miriam?"

            "Well, my son Jimmy overheard Mr. Steinman talking about giving people a Christmas fish and I didn't know how to tell him what it is. I thought you would know."

            Pastor Gunderson coughed slightly, rubbed his ample double chin, and felt slightly offended that his theological credentials were being questioned.

            "I'll certainly research the matter and will get back to you, Miriam."

            "Thank you Pastor Gunderson."

            It was close to lunch time, so the clergyman put on his coat and began to leave.  As he passed through his secretary's office, he paused.  "Gladys, I may be a little late coming from lunch. I'm going to stop at the Presbyterian and Catholic churches to confer with my colleagues about something."

            Gladys was in the habit of not always hanging up the phone when she transferred calls to the pastor which is why she inadvertently overheard many conversations.  Checking to be sure the pastor had left, Gladys dialed a number.

            "Hello Janice.  It's Gladys.  Well, here's something interesting for you.  You know that Jewish butcher.  Yes, Mr. Steinman.  Well, he's telling all the little children in town that there's such a thing as a Christmas fish.  Yes.  Can you imagine?  He's telling them they absolutely must give people a Christmas fish."

            That beautiful day-before-Christmas had spread itself gloriously over Millersville.  A cloudless, crystal blue sky shimmered off the pure white snow that had fallen the night before.  Ovens throughout the town gave forth the rich aromas of cookies and cakes and pies.  Last minute shoppers with rosy cheeks and mittens and mufflers, hurried in and out of the stores on Main St.  Another perfect Christmas was about to descend on Millersville.  Perfect except for one thing.  No one could figure out what a Christmas fish was.

            After Gladys's phone call the word about the mysterious Christmas fish had spread quickly through the town.

            During the afternoon, the Lutheran, Catholic and Presbyterian church offices were beseiged with calls and all the pastors instructed their secretaries to assure parishioners that their spiritual leaders were carefully researching the matter.

            Reverend Everett, the Presbyterian minister, had suggested they might just call Mr. Steinman, whom they all knew, and ask him.  But on second thought, the pastors decided it was not appropriate for three Christian clergymen to ask a Jewish butcher, Jacob Steinman, to explain something pertaining to their own holiest of days.

            By nightfall every family in town was pondering how Mr. Steinman, the Jewish butcher, could know all about the traditional Christmas fish and they did not.  It was almost as if a feeling of collective spiritual inadequacy had spread over the town.

            Christmas day came as scheduled to Millersville.  Bright, beautiful, clear and cold.  The pastors all preached of joy and peace and love but made no mention of Christmas fishes.  As they shook hands with their pastors at the door, parishioners decided to limit their conversations to exchanges of "Merry Christmas" and avoided bringing up the question that was foremost in everyone's mind

            A dancing yellow, red and blue fire spread its warmth over the family gathered in the Collins home.  Grandmom and Grandpop, Uncle Albert and Aunt Bertha were there.  Jimmy had received all the toys he had wanted, and he knew he would have his favorite pumpkin pie for dessert after the abundant meal his mother was preparing.  But he was still bothered.

            "Grandpop, why can't anybody tell me what a Christmas fish is?"

            "You know, Jimmy, the only person who can answer that question is Mr. Steinman.  We've got a little time before we eat.  I know Jacob very well, and he doesn't close on Christmas, so why don't we just go over and ask him?"

            Jimmy and his grandfather bundled into their heavy clothes and walked downtown.  As they turned the corner at the entrance to Mr. Steinman's butcher shop, they were startled as they colided with three men -- Pastor Gunderson, Father Thomas and Rev. Everett.

            "I guess we're all here for the same reason," Grandpop Collins said with a smile.  After an awkward pause, the pastors acknowledged they were, and they all entered the butcher shop.

            Mr. Steinman, a short, rather large, jovial man, clapped his hands and smiled broadly as his visitors entered the shop.

            "Jacob, we wanted to talk to you about Christmas fishes," said Grandpop Collins.

            "Ah yah," Jacob Steinman said, his round, reddish face bursting into an even wider grin. "I vas going to do da same ting vit you."

            Despite his 30 years in the United States, Jacob had never lost his thick accent.

            "To all of you, my Christian friends, may you haf joy and happiness for your holiday and da New Year.  Dis, for you, my friends, is my Christmas vish."

##

 

 

Did you know that Cubans who set foot on American soil and ask for asylum are immediately given legal immigrant status?  Even those smuggled in or who cross the Mexican border. Normalized relations with Cuba now being established by President Obama could mean Cuban immigrants would become subject to the same treatment as Mexicans.  Is it any wonder why a Cuban-American politician like Marco Rubio is lambasting the President? 

Here are excerpts from a Reuters article explaining the 1966 Cuban Adjustment Act (CAA).  Note the article was written before the President took action so it did not come as a surprise to Rubio and Cuban status quo supporters:

Under the CAA, Cubans receive unique and highly favorable treatment, including granting of permanent residency a year after arrival, as well as being eligible for government benefits, such as Medicaid, supplemental social security income, child care, and disability.  (My note: The anti-illegal immigrant factions whip up hatred by saying undocumented immigrants receive these benefits but they do not.)

No other foreign nationals enjoy these benefits except for the few who are granted political asylum.

"I'm not sure we're going to be able to avoid, as part of any comprehensive approach to immigration, a conversation about the Cuban Adjustment Act," Florida's Republican Senator Marco Rubio, a son of Cuban immigrants, told reporters last month.

Rubio, one of eight senators pushing for bipartisan immigration reform, said the CAA was intended to protect refugees fleeing an oppressive regime but an increasing number of Cuban exiles were traveling to and from Cuba on family vacations and business trips, undermining the justification for the act.

"It's becoming increasingly difficult to justify it to my colleagues," said Rubio. (My note:  Obviously Rubio does not think repealing the CCA should be part of immigration reform.)

The reform could also mark the end of the controversial 'wet foot, dry foot' policy, coined after the 1994 Cuban rafter crisis, that allows entry to undocumented Cubans who reach U.S. soil ('dry foot') either by home-made rafts or smuggler 'go-fast' boats, as well as thousands who show up each year at the Mexico border. Others intercepted at sea ('wet foot') are repatriated.

According to an estimate by the University of Miami's Institute for Cuban and Cuban-American Studies, the cost of public benefits provided to Cuban immigrants was $322 million in 2008. (My note: Imagine what it is now.)

"We cannot keep giving all the benefits to people coming from Cuba who have not paid a penny into the system, especially at a time when Congress is talking about taking benefits from people who have been paying into the system for years," added Mannerud, who is of Cuban descent.

To read the full article go to:  http://www.reuters.com/article/2013/02/08/us-usa-immigration-cuba-idUSBRE9170F920130208

At this time of year we are exposed to many emotional, inspirational and heartwarming stories related to the season.  Some are pure fiction, some are mushy, outlandish or unbelievable.  But, some are true like the one I have to tell.  During the Thanksgiving week, my wife and I visited New York City.  We went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see the fantastic Angel Tree and Nativity (also the Cubist Exhibition and Thomas Struth Photography).  At the Museum store, Linda bought a large cut-out nativity based on the Angel Tree display.  When we got home, she discovered the box was empty. 

 

I called the Museum Store the following Saturday and spoke to a young man who was on duty that day.  I explained that the box was evidently the one for the display piece and my wife accidently picked it up instead of a full one.   Obviously, there was no way I could prove this and I had no intention of trying to convince the sales associate to send me another one free.  Because Linda was so disappointed I just wanted to surprise her by purchasing a new one.   Fortunately, I had the empty box with the item number so I could identify what I wanted.  He asked, “What day were you here?”  That was easy as I had the entrance receipt.  “Do you have your wife’s credit card receipt?”  No, I didn’t and I had no way of finding it because she was out (which is why I was calling at that time).  Then he asked, “Did she buy anything else?”  Yes, she did and the box of Christmas cards, also based on the Angel Tree was on her desk.  I gave him the item number on the back of the box, and he said with the date of visit and that purchase information he could track it down.

As you have guessed, the new Nativity arrived in the mail yesterday.  In these days of so much hatred, animosity, antagonism and doubt, it was nice to see that sometimes honesty and trust can still work.   I have no idea who the young man was except for the entry on the packing slip that said, “Sales Associate 33469”

So to Sales Associate 33469, thank you and Merry Christmas!