The Hero Two Doors Down (11 page)

Sena sledded past me and yelled, “Look out!”

I used my mittened hands to increase my speed and catch up to her. We crashed into each other and toppled off our sleds, laughing and rolling in the tamped-down snow. It was the next day, and we were still making the most of the huge snowfall.

“That was amazing!” Sena screamed as we righted ourselves in the snow.

“Sure was, but I've got to go home,” I said.

“Yeah, me too. It'll be dark soon.”

When I got home, my parents were anxiously waiting for me.

“Stephen,” Mom called out as I stepped into the front hallway.

“Yes, Mom,” I answered as I began slipping out of my wet coat, hat, boots, and gloves.

“Stephen, come in here immediately,” my father barked.

“Coming,” I yelled back, tripping over my wet clothes as I hustled to the living room. Had I stayed at the park too long? Missed a doctor's appointment? I was searching my brain, trying to come up with a reason for my dad's bad mood. “Am I in trouble?” I asked from the doorway.

“Did you ask Jackie Robinson for a Christmas tree?” Dad demanded.

I repeated his question over in my mind.
A Christmas tree
. “No. I was over at the Robinsons' helping them decorate a tree, and Jackie asked if our tree was up. I told him no,” I replied. Then I spotted the evergreen tree leaning up against a wall. It wasn't quite as tall as the Robinsons', but it sure was a beauty. “Jeepers!” I yelled. “Did Jackie buy that tree for me?”

“Are you sure you didn't say that you wanted a tree, Stephen?” Dad asked again.

“No,” I repeated, confused by all the fuss over a tree. I was already thinking of ways to decorate it.

“Steve, this is not a joke. That”—Dad pointed toward the beautiful evergreen—“
is
a Christmas tree. Did you ask Jackie to get one for you?”

“No, I did not,” I stated clearly. “I just told him that we didn't have one.”

“Did you also tell him that we're Jewish and don't celebrate Christmas?”

“No one mentioned Christmas,” I said. “We just decorated a tree like this one.”

“Stephen, come sit down next to me.” Mom gestured toward the couch. I slid in beside her. “Do you realize that today is Christmas Eve and tomorrow is Christmas?”

“No,” I said. None of my friends talked about Christmas. They only talked about Hanukkah. “Honest, Ma . . . I didn't know that when you bring a tree like that into the house it's called a Christmas tree. I've never even seen a big tree inside someone's house until yesterday. And boy, was it pretty.”

“You mean at the Robinsons' house. Right, Steve?”

“Right,” I replied. “We covered it with lights and shiny, colored bulbs. Rachel even helped little Jackie and me make decorations out of colored paper. I had so much fun. No one said anything about Christmas. I just thought it was so pretty,” I said, fighting back tears. “Did I do something wrong?”

Mom wrapped her arms around me. “Absolutely not, son. It's just a misunderstanding. That's all. I better call Rachel and explain.”

“Dad, can I keep the tree?”

“No, Steve. It wouldn't be right,” Dad replied. “This is a Christmas tree. It is a symbol of a Christian holiday. Like Hanukkah, Christmas is part religious holiday and part tradition. It is also a time when families gather around symbols, like the Christmas tree, and exchange gifts. The problem is that Jews and Christians have different beliefs and separate holidays. Your mother and I respect those differences. We appreciate that the Robinsons shared part of their religious experience with you. They may not have understood Jewish traditions and the fact that we don't celebrate Christmas. That's why it's best if your mother speaks with Rachel so there won't be any further misunderstanding.”

“Won't it hurt their feelings?” I asked.

“No more than it would hurt your grandparents to come into our home and see a Christmas tree,” Dad explained.

“What would Bubbe say?” I pressed.

Dad chuckled. “What will your mother say, Sarah?”

“She'd say, ‘Oy vey,' and maybe even faint,” Mom teased.

“Right. So get rid of it before we upset our Hanukkah dinner!” Dad said.

“We can't do that,” I protested.

“We most certainly can!” my father retorted.

I was torn over what was right and wrong. The tree was a gift from Jackie Robinson to me. That made it super special, like when he gave me the practice mitt. But I understood my father's concerns. Still, it was a gift given out of friendship. I didn't want anything to spoil my relationship with Jackie.

“Mom, please don't call Rachel yet,” I pleaded. “I can't just give the tree back to Jackie. There has to be a way for me to keep it. There just has to be.”

“Do you understand why your father and I are concerned?” Mom asked.

“Sort of,” I replied. “I get that it's not like a tree in the park. I get that it means something to families who believe in Christmas like our menorah means to us. But it doesn't have to mean Christmas to us. Does it?”

My father didn't respond. He stood tall and firm on the other side of the room while Mom and I talked quietly.

“Dad . . .” I moaned, looking over at him. “It's a gift.”

“Archie, Steve has a point,” Mom said, and then hesitated. “We could simply tell my parents the truth. That Steve has a special friendship with our neighbors, and they gave him the tree.”

“Absolutely not,” Dad boomed.

“But, Dad . . .” I pleaded.

“Sarah, take care of this,” Dad demanded.

The doorbell rang just when Dad seemed to make his final judgment. He left the room to answer the door, without saying another word. A few minutes later, he stepped back into the living room with the Robinsons.

My mouth flew open.
Oh, no
, I thought.
Now Dad will spoil everything.

I avoided looking directly at Jackie.

“Hi, Steve!” Jackie said, patting my head and smiling down at me. “Do you like your tree?”

My head bobbed up and down, but I didn't speak.

“Here, Rachel and I brought over lights and ornaments,” Jackie said as he handed me a box marked
FRAGILE
and a wooden angel. “This angel goes on the very top of the tree.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said, looking from Jackie to my dad, fearful of the next words between the two.

“I hope you don't mind, Archie. If you could have seen Steve's face yesterday when he saw our tree . . . well, when Steve said he didn't have one, I just thought it would be a nice thing to share. We think so highly of your boy, Archie. He's become part of our family.” Jackie talked fast and meant well.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Dad finally said.

“Sarah, I hope we didn't overstep our boundaries. I told Jack that you might be buying your tree later today,” Rachel said.

“Rachel, forgive us. You've been so generous with our son. He loves spending time with you, and we appreciate your friendship,” Mom replied. “I was so shocked by the gesture that I didn't respond appropriately when Jackie showed up with this lovely tree. The problem is that we're Jewish and we do not celebrate Christmas.”

“Oh, my,” Rachel whispered, looking from my mom to Jackie.

“I'm so sorry,” Jackie apologized.

“Rachel, Jack, it's okay,” my mother insisted. “We know you meant well. You see . . . until you moved into the neighborhood, Steve had very limited exposure to families from other faiths. Only Jewish families lived in this neighborhood. His school friends are all Jewish. When you invited Steve to come over, I had no idea he'd be helping you decorate your Christmas tree or I would have prepared him. This weekend, we'll begin our Hanukkah celebration. It's a Jewish holiday, and this year it just happens to fall a day after Christmas.”

I looked from my mother to the Robinsons, wondering how this news would affect me. I glanced over at my father and tried to read his expression, but all the adults were focused on Mom. I realized that she was the key to how both families were working through this uncomfortable moment. It also dawned on me that keeping my friendship with the Robinsons was far more important than keeping a tree.

“Jack and I are so embarrassed,” Rachel offered again.

“Our sincere apologies,” Jackie added. “It didn't even occur to me that you didn't celebrate Christmas. You see, we're very much like Steve. Until we moved to Tilden Avenue, Rachel and I had very little interaction with Jewish families. I'm ashamed to admit that, until now, we didn't know much about your faith, either.”

I was bursting to say something, but what should I say? I didn't want to blow it, and I knew if I said the wrong thing, I'd be in big trouble. I opened my mouth to speak, but a giggle escaped.

“Gee, Dad,” I began, trying to hold my laughter at bay. “It's kinda funny.”

I glanced over at Mom. Her face was red as she, too, found the situation amusing.

Mom and I started to giggle at the same time. Before we knew it, even Dad and Jackie were laughing. When we all settled back down, I popped the big question.

“Dad, you taught me to accept a gift in the spirit that it's given. Right?” I asked.

“That's right, son,” my father admitted.

“Then can I keep the tree?”

Jackie jumped in. “It's all right, Steve. We made a mistake. I'll take the tree home with us.”

But Dad silenced Jackie with a wave of his hands. We turned our attention to my father. “We've all learned an important lesson here today,” Dad began. “I realize now that I've been inflexible. Sunday night is our first night of Hanukkah. Our extended family will gather here for prayers, the lighting of the menorah, and a special meal. Later, the children will play games. This year we've decided to dedicate the first day of Hanukkah to peace. I will lead the prayer, and others can share their perspectives. It would be wonderful if you, Rachel, and little Jackie could join us.”

“We'd love to,” Jackie replied.

“That's great,” Dad said as he and Jackie shook hands, and Rachel and Mom hugged.

“Steve,” Dad said, turning to me. “You may keep the tree. Maybe the Robinsons can help us decorate it. You were right. This tree is a gift of friendship, and we will accept it as such. We've been blessed to share this year with the Robinsons. The tree solidifies that blessing. This year, this Jewish family will have both a Christmas tree and a menorah.”

 

Sunday afternoon, we waited for the Robinsons to arrive before saying our prayers and lighting the menorah. When Jackie walked in, my bubbe was the first to greet him.

“Mr. Robinson, it's wonderful to finally meet you. Thank you for being so generous of your time with our Stevie,” she said. I trailed behind my grandmother and the Robinsons as they were introduced to my extended family. I kept hoping there would be no complaints about the Christmas tree. When Bubbe finished introductions, she pulled Jackie aside and whispered something that made him smile. Knowing my bubbe, I figured it had something to do with the Christmas tree.

Dad and Mom came out of the kitchen with the last of the platters of food and saw Bubbe talking with Jackie. They put the platters down on the long dining room table and went over to welcome the Robinsons.

“We're so happy you joined us,” Dad said.

“I've already introduced them to all the family,” Bubbe said.

Dad kissed my grandmother and called all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins to gather around the table. “After a short prayer, we will light one of the candles in the menorah,” Dad told the Robinsons. “Jackie, would you be so good as to help light the first candle?”

Jackie looked startled. “I'd be happy to,” he agreed.

“Wonderful. Don't worry about a thing. Stephen will help you,” Dad said.

I looked up at the two very special men in my life and nodded in agreement. It was a big honor to be chosen to help light the candles.
A sign
, I thought,
that Dad thinks I can be trusted.

I stood up front with my father and mother facing out toward my family and the Robinsons. I figured that if I stood up on my toes, I could also see the top of the Christmas tree. Since Jackie moved in, our lives had changed in so many unbelievable ways. I turned and looked up at my tall, handsome father and felt very proud to be his son.

“We are blessed this evening to have our Christian friends join us for this annual celebration of commitment. Hanukkah is a time for families to celebrate freedom, faith, and peace. I'd be honored if Jackie would join me in the lighting of the menorah.”

After Jackie came to the front, Dad lifted me into his arms so I could reach the menorah. “Steve, please help Jackie light the shamus.”

Secure in my dad's arms, I leaned over and lifted the shamus from the center of the menorah and handed it to Jackie. My dad put me beside Jackie, who lit the shamus and then used it to light the first candle while Dad repeated a series of prayers in English.