Long Duck Dong
Dec 22, 2006, 9:22 PM
( i howled like a baby writing this....so be forewarned, this story has keyboard watering properties )
the empty xmas stockings
the place was a swarm of busy people, as the local community rushed to prepare the hall for the coming xmas day lunch meal for the lonely, the broke and the lost, the sounds of banging and crashing filling the air at the same time that xmas decorations filled the roof and walls, with their colorful rainbows
a brisk and hard sweeping by a number of keen and smiling volunteers had cleared the dust off the old wooden floor, leaving behind a polished and shining wooden floor with its raised band platform, and some very dusty looking and sweat soaked volunteers
a banner spanning one end of the hall displayed, in colorful print * have a very merry christmas " under this, hung a smaller banner listing the groups that had united for this event, including the LGBT community, the christian fellowship and many others groups...and on a hurriedly hung sideway clotheline, were hanging a number of red stockings, with simple name tags.....
sitting quietly in a corner, was a elderly gentleman, proudly wearing medals of a war long past, his suit pressed and creased with military precision, its knife edge sharp creases, a testimony to this gentleman's pride and honor.....
he must have been about 80 or so, his weather worn face, wrinkled with the lines of true laughter and true sadness, his bifocals resting on a nose, that in times past, was part of a very noble and handsome face...
I watched him from across the room, resting, and after a few minutes of cursing the xmas tree and its stubborn refusal to stand straight, i decided enuf was enuf and rather than deal to the tree with a chainsaw, it was time that i had a break...
so surrendering the task of dealing with the tree to another volunteer, I crossed the room to the gentleman and took a seat beside him...
he raised his silver crowned head, and studied me with his eyes, and I knew that i was not what you would call a respectable person, dressed in leather pants, boots, a singlet, with tattoos down my arms...and a mass of long shaggy hair down my back, i was definitely not the type of man you took home to meet the parents.... unless they were blind drunk or just blind
as I sat, I introduced myself, and extended a scared and tattooed hand, which he expected with his own and a grip like a crocodiles death grip, callouses, arthritis and all...and in a creaky, soft voice, touched with the rust of ages, he told me his name... we sat politely talking about the state of the hall as the decorations turned the pale from a old social hall into the worlds most over done and utterly tasteless display of color... as only drag queens can do
as we sat and talked, i began to listen with a new interest and a new found respectful....and after about 10 minutes or so, i leaned over and whispered in his ear.... a simple and graceful nod, his answer.... and I returned to my duties around the hall...quietly making a note to have this gentleman seated in a place of honour, and to have him stand and speak as somebody we needed to hear.....and i, myself would stand beside this man and speak also..... a christmas message that was to change the lives of many people that day.... and a message that was to bring a a battle hardened man and a ex biker / gangster to a new understanding.....
the clock stuck 6 pm and dinner was served to the near 400 that came from near and far, some in true need, some not, some just to share some company and some just for the food....but none, came that day, expecting to hear the speech that was soon to come and as the clock hit 7 pm....a signal was made and the hall grew quiet as I offered my hand as a support for the gentleman, and he stood, a microphone near his mouth so his soft voice could reach thruout the hall and even the hardest of hearing could hear this gentleman speak... and this is what he said...
I am honoured as a war veteran, with medals, I was honoured as a hard working man with a gold watch for 50 years service and I was honoured as a family man, blessed with a family....but this day i stand before you as a man haunted by the true deeds of my life....i am a man that now hangs stockings on the wall with the names of my children, and my wife, and every year, they are empty of the one gift that would make christmas time a joyous occasion for me.... every year they remain empty because I was too full of pride to be true to my family....
he paused, the message at this stage, lost upon the people, as he turned and walked over some of the many stockings hanging on the wall, and reached out a gnarled hand...touching a named stocking, as he spoke into the microphone i was holding for him...
this stocking hangs every year for my son, who is a fine family man, a good business man, and a fine standing man in the
community in england where he now lives, sharing custody of his child with his ex wife, and happy with his new partner....he has honored me greatly, as his father, thru his actions....but i lost him thru mine... my son is gay.... and a fine man.... and every year i hope that in the stocking, is a letter from him, forgiving a old man for not being the father a son truly needs
he moved to another stocking, ... and this stocking, is hung for my daughter, a famous artist and writer... whom paints and writes, of the heartache of loneliness and despair...she is a brilliant lady, and makes many people proud... one of them is this man.... who, every year, looks at the stocking and praying that a dearly loved daughter may see thru the foolishness of a old man and start to paint and write in the beauty colors of her heart, smile and eyes..and the love she shares with her lesbian lover in australia
and to another he moved....this is for my christian wife, whom never knew the truth of her husband....for i am bisexual.... and in my desire to hide the truth, i lost our children, and my wife died in a room, never seeing the grandchild.... or our children...and my wife died of a broken heart, longing for the man she married, and the children she bore....and i was a stranger to her... i am not the honored, proud man that she married but a fool that hid the truth, and hurt our children by making them hide their own truth from me....until they were able to leave and travel far away, from me to be free and truly who they were.....
he turned and faced the audience, in the hall, all stunned into silence...." I have been decorated, and honored by my country for services during wartime and peace, honored by my community but i failed where it is most important... my own family....this is xmas time.... and a time for giving and sharing.... for family and friends....but it is one day of the year... and my friends, every day of the year is important, for every day is a chance to honor your family.... and not follow in the path of a old fool...
he sat down in a chair.... and i stood to speak... and words failed me, where tears didn't, my eyes welled up and it was a struggle before i was able to speak clearly.....
and in turn i moved over to some stockings.... and touched each of them...in turn, as i began to speak
this stocking is for a father, from a daughter , who walked away from her family, rather than tell them she was a lesbian, she was too ashamed of who she was, to speak out with her own truth... and she fled in shame to another country... and every year her father hangs a stocking....hoping that a lost daughter will write and say, I am here, and i wanna come home again...
touching another stocking, i spoke " this stocking is for a father, from a son, lost to his family, a son who felt he would never meet the approval of his father, that being gay was a disgrace to the family and a slur on the fine standing of the father....
and as I touched one more... this is for a mother, who wept tears for the lost family.... for the husband she loved, for all his many faces, and the fact that he was human, for she was a wise woman and knew of the secrets of her family as mothers do.. a wife who honored the vows of marriage and loved her husband and forgave him, and asked blessings for her children as she wrote to them in the days before she died, and told them of her dying wish... and of the wish of her husband, and their father....
i took down the stockings, both his and mine, and carried them over to the gentleman, laying them on the table front of him... and I reached into my jacket, withdrawing some envelopes.....
* this is a letter from a daughter to a father...and a son to a father......* and as his face started to crumble, i helped him to his feet, and placed a arm over his frail shoulders, and my last words filled the hall that night, as the sounds of cheers and clapping mixing with the shedding of tears and the freeing of emotions....as i hugged him, our emotions gave way, and the tears flowed....
as I spoke....." and this... is a hug from a grand child to a grandfather....merry xmas grand dad "
in the hall, hang a set of stockings... and this xmas, they hang empty no more
the empty xmas stockings
the place was a swarm of busy people, as the local community rushed to prepare the hall for the coming xmas day lunch meal for the lonely, the broke and the lost, the sounds of banging and crashing filling the air at the same time that xmas decorations filled the roof and walls, with their colorful rainbows
a brisk and hard sweeping by a number of keen and smiling volunteers had cleared the dust off the old wooden floor, leaving behind a polished and shining wooden floor with its raised band platform, and some very dusty looking and sweat soaked volunteers
a banner spanning one end of the hall displayed, in colorful print * have a very merry christmas " under this, hung a smaller banner listing the groups that had united for this event, including the LGBT community, the christian fellowship and many others groups...and on a hurriedly hung sideway clotheline, were hanging a number of red stockings, with simple name tags.....
sitting quietly in a corner, was a elderly gentleman, proudly wearing medals of a war long past, his suit pressed and creased with military precision, its knife edge sharp creases, a testimony to this gentleman's pride and honor.....
he must have been about 80 or so, his weather worn face, wrinkled with the lines of true laughter and true sadness, his bifocals resting on a nose, that in times past, was part of a very noble and handsome face...
I watched him from across the room, resting, and after a few minutes of cursing the xmas tree and its stubborn refusal to stand straight, i decided enuf was enuf and rather than deal to the tree with a chainsaw, it was time that i had a break...
so surrendering the task of dealing with the tree to another volunteer, I crossed the room to the gentleman and took a seat beside him...
he raised his silver crowned head, and studied me with his eyes, and I knew that i was not what you would call a respectable person, dressed in leather pants, boots, a singlet, with tattoos down my arms...and a mass of long shaggy hair down my back, i was definitely not the type of man you took home to meet the parents.... unless they were blind drunk or just blind
as I sat, I introduced myself, and extended a scared and tattooed hand, which he expected with his own and a grip like a crocodiles death grip, callouses, arthritis and all...and in a creaky, soft voice, touched with the rust of ages, he told me his name... we sat politely talking about the state of the hall as the decorations turned the pale from a old social hall into the worlds most over done and utterly tasteless display of color... as only drag queens can do
as we sat and talked, i began to listen with a new interest and a new found respectful....and after about 10 minutes or so, i leaned over and whispered in his ear.... a simple and graceful nod, his answer.... and I returned to my duties around the hall...quietly making a note to have this gentleman seated in a place of honour, and to have him stand and speak as somebody we needed to hear.....and i, myself would stand beside this man and speak also..... a christmas message that was to change the lives of many people that day.... and a message that was to bring a a battle hardened man and a ex biker / gangster to a new understanding.....
the clock stuck 6 pm and dinner was served to the near 400 that came from near and far, some in true need, some not, some just to share some company and some just for the food....but none, came that day, expecting to hear the speech that was soon to come and as the clock hit 7 pm....a signal was made and the hall grew quiet as I offered my hand as a support for the gentleman, and he stood, a microphone near his mouth so his soft voice could reach thruout the hall and even the hardest of hearing could hear this gentleman speak... and this is what he said...
I am honoured as a war veteran, with medals, I was honoured as a hard working man with a gold watch for 50 years service and I was honoured as a family man, blessed with a family....but this day i stand before you as a man haunted by the true deeds of my life....i am a man that now hangs stockings on the wall with the names of my children, and my wife, and every year, they are empty of the one gift that would make christmas time a joyous occasion for me.... every year they remain empty because I was too full of pride to be true to my family....
he paused, the message at this stage, lost upon the people, as he turned and walked over some of the many stockings hanging on the wall, and reached out a gnarled hand...touching a named stocking, as he spoke into the microphone i was holding for him...
this stocking hangs every year for my son, who is a fine family man, a good business man, and a fine standing man in the
community in england where he now lives, sharing custody of his child with his ex wife, and happy with his new partner....he has honored me greatly, as his father, thru his actions....but i lost him thru mine... my son is gay.... and a fine man.... and every year i hope that in the stocking, is a letter from him, forgiving a old man for not being the father a son truly needs
he moved to another stocking, ... and this stocking, is hung for my daughter, a famous artist and writer... whom paints and writes, of the heartache of loneliness and despair...she is a brilliant lady, and makes many people proud... one of them is this man.... who, every year, looks at the stocking and praying that a dearly loved daughter may see thru the foolishness of a old man and start to paint and write in the beauty colors of her heart, smile and eyes..and the love she shares with her lesbian lover in australia
and to another he moved....this is for my christian wife, whom never knew the truth of her husband....for i am bisexual.... and in my desire to hide the truth, i lost our children, and my wife died in a room, never seeing the grandchild.... or our children...and my wife died of a broken heart, longing for the man she married, and the children she bore....and i was a stranger to her... i am not the honored, proud man that she married but a fool that hid the truth, and hurt our children by making them hide their own truth from me....until they were able to leave and travel far away, from me to be free and truly who they were.....
he turned and faced the audience, in the hall, all stunned into silence...." I have been decorated, and honored by my country for services during wartime and peace, honored by my community but i failed where it is most important... my own family....this is xmas time.... and a time for giving and sharing.... for family and friends....but it is one day of the year... and my friends, every day of the year is important, for every day is a chance to honor your family.... and not follow in the path of a old fool...
he sat down in a chair.... and i stood to speak... and words failed me, where tears didn't, my eyes welled up and it was a struggle before i was able to speak clearly.....
and in turn i moved over to some stockings.... and touched each of them...in turn, as i began to speak
this stocking is for a father, from a daughter , who walked away from her family, rather than tell them she was a lesbian, she was too ashamed of who she was, to speak out with her own truth... and she fled in shame to another country... and every year her father hangs a stocking....hoping that a lost daughter will write and say, I am here, and i wanna come home again...
touching another stocking, i spoke " this stocking is for a father, from a son, lost to his family, a son who felt he would never meet the approval of his father, that being gay was a disgrace to the family and a slur on the fine standing of the father....
and as I touched one more... this is for a mother, who wept tears for the lost family.... for the husband she loved, for all his many faces, and the fact that he was human, for she was a wise woman and knew of the secrets of her family as mothers do.. a wife who honored the vows of marriage and loved her husband and forgave him, and asked blessings for her children as she wrote to them in the days before she died, and told them of her dying wish... and of the wish of her husband, and their father....
i took down the stockings, both his and mine, and carried them over to the gentleman, laying them on the table front of him... and I reached into my jacket, withdrawing some envelopes.....
* this is a letter from a daughter to a father...and a son to a father......* and as his face started to crumble, i helped him to his feet, and placed a arm over his frail shoulders, and my last words filled the hall that night, as the sounds of cheers and clapping mixing with the shedding of tears and the freeing of emotions....as i hugged him, our emotions gave way, and the tears flowed....
as I spoke....." and this... is a hug from a grand child to a grandfather....merry xmas grand dad "
in the hall, hang a set of stockings... and this xmas, they hang empty no more