What Happens When You Threaten Santa?

Someone who looks like me might have been caught dancing in a Sprouts to this song. Haven’t heard of someone who looks like me going viral so maybe my doppleganger wasn’t filmed, who knows.

Sometimes you get caught up in a moment and you remember two women teaching you how to two step at a Denim & Diamonds in Los Angeles 30 some years ago.

That memory could be the thing that sends your thoughts down a series of rabbit holes. Maybe it is the one where you think about a guy you thought of as a brother and how he died at 29.

So you dig into posts in which you wrote about him and then stumbled upon How To Win A Fight On Facebook/You Won’t Read This Anyway and snorted at some memories.

Something in the parade of images floating through my head reminded me about an encounter I had with guy playing Santa.

Running With The Moon

We’re running with the moon now, intentionally ignoring the voices that shout us.

Slipping the bonds of civility and concern we set out at a pace we cannot possibly maintain, even if the 40 percent rule is accurate.

There is no way to keep it up for long but there is no choice in the matter.

We haven’t figured out yet if we are running from or towards the demons but don’t care because we will roll with it.

If the hounds of hell catch us we’ll turn and make a stand and if we catch up to them we’ll make them sorry to have been caught.

****

I am standing in the lobby of an office building in Encino trying to decide the best path to the elevators to go back to my office.

It is December and building management is throwing a holiday party. There is a guy playing Santa who asks if I want to take a picture with him.

I shake my head no and he tries to argue with me. When I go to step around him he steps with me and it sets me off.

“You need to move or call Rudolph so he can drive you to Encino hospital.” He snorts and asks if I understand what happens when you threaten Santa.

“You’ll get coal in your stocking.”

“I am Jewish and I was the kid who told others he wasn’t real. Please move.”

Santa tells me that was a dick move and I tell him I am a part time mohel and I am happy to give him his first snip or maybe a healthy second.”

“You don’t want to go there, it would be a bad idea.”

I shrug my shoulder and tell him if that is his way of saying he is dickless it is not my problem and that if isn’t a plastic knife is going to be more painful than my traditional tool.

And with that I give him my best 1000 mile stare and walk by him.

Lightning Strikes

Got Toby Keith singing Bullet In The Gun as I lay upon the bench and consider if I am ready to add a couple more 45s on each side of the bar.

Gave myself a goal to get back to 300 by the end of the year knowing there is no prize or award for getting there.

If the docs are correct I am likely still anemic but within two weeks should have normal H&H numbers. Got the echo of one doc saying I need to be careful about how hard I push myself and close my eyes to center myself and consider what my body is telling me.

Toby is replaced by Duel Of The Fates and I decide that I feel ready to push a little harder.

So I throw on the second 45 on each side and start pumping out rep, 225 feels harder than I’d like but it is not taxing me in a way that makes me nervous.

It is a full month since my surgery and two full weeks since I got out of the hospital after that little hemorrhagic shock episode. I practically jump off of the bench with excitement.

My big fear was that I would lose ground while I couldn’t lift. I feared that too much time off would lead to muscle loss and that my hard work would be for naught.

I put in a lot of time and effort to get myself to where I am today because I have a vision of where I want to be tomorrow.

G-d willing one day I will be a grandfather and I intend to be able to play with my grandchildren. I also intend to always be able to take care of myself.

The hardest part of being in the hospital was the initial time where I had to ask for help for some basic stuff. It chapped my hide more than I would have expected.

But I never expected to be in a position where I would need that kind of help and if I have my way it won’t ever happen again.

The Rehab Facility

My father was in a rehab facility for a brief time before he died. The chemo he took to kill the cancer did a number on his legs.

I remember visiting him and worrying about what would happen if there was a fire or earthquake at night.

When he hugged me I could feel ample strength in his arms so I told myself he was capable of dragging himself to safety but prayed nothing like that would test his ability.

Got me thinking about how I pulled myself across the bathroom floor and then up onto the toilet. I can’t remember how much help I got from my legs but I know I relied upon my arm strength to get me up.

I know that when I grabbed one of the paramedics by the arm he remarked about how tightly I held onto him.

That reminded me of something I wrote about here.

I walked over and kissed the top of his bald head.

He looked at me, rolled his eyes and waited for the response he knew was coming.

“You know father if you were a Virgo or Aries woman you would have swooned. That is the kind of kiss that is life changing.”

Dad shook his head and muttered something I shall not repeat in a family oriented blog.

I smiled, bowed and reminded him that I had helped bless him with grandchildren and that I would be happy to tell the kids that grandpa had insulted their father.

I laughed because we both knew that my very young children would have been angry on their father’s behalf.

It’s too bad he isn’t here because if I told that story in front of the kids they would have asked grandpa how I survived childhood.

Fade to black as Cillian Murphy reads When You Are Old by W. B. Yeats.