A Christmas Story by Jean Shepherd

Author:Jean Shepherd [Shepherd, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-76873-5
Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2010-10-26T16:00:00+00:00

It was alive!

“Hey, look.”

The Old Man was reading from the instruction pamphlet which had been attached to the cord.

“It’s got a two-way switch. It says here: ‘In one position it’s a tasteful Night Light and in the other an effective, scientifically designed Reading Lamp.’ Oh boy, is this great!”

He reached up under the shade to throw the switch.

“Why can’t you wait until the kids are in bed?”

My mother shoved my kid brother behind her. The shade had a narrow scallop of delicate lace circling its lower regions.

“Watch this!”

The switch clicked. Instantly the room was flooded with a wave of pink light that was pure perfume of illumination.

“Now that is a real lamp!”

The Old Man backed away in admiration.

“Hey wait. I want to see how it looks from the outside.”

He rushed into the outer darkness, across the front porch and out onto the street. From a half block away he shouted:

“Move it a little to the left. Okay. That’s got it. You oughta see it from out here!”

The entire neighborhood was turned on. It could be seen up and down Cleveland Street, the symbol of his victory.

The rest of that evening was spent in honest, simple Peasant admiration for a thing of transcendent beauty, very much like the awe and humility that we felt before such things as Christmas trees and used cars with fresh coats of Simonize. The family went to bed in a restless mood of festive gaiety. That is, everyone except my mother, who somehow failed to vibrate on the same frequency as my father’s spectacular Additional Major Award.

That night, for the first time, our home had a Night Light. The living room was bathed through the long, still, silent hours with the soft glow of electric Sex. The stage was set; the principal players were in the wings. The cue was about to be given for the greatest single fight that ever happened in our family.

Real-life man and wife, mother and father battles rarely even remotely resemble the Theatrical or Fictional version of the Struggle between the Sexes. Homes have been wracked by strife and dissension because of a basic difference of opinion over where to go on a vacation, or what kind of car to buy, or a toaster that made funny noises, or a sister-in-law’s false teeth, not to mention who is going to take out the garbage. And why.

In all my experience I have never known homes that had the kind of fights that appear in plays by Edward Albee and Tennessee Williams. It would never have occurred to my father to bellow dramatically in the living room, after twenty-seven Scotches:

“You bitch! You’re not going to emasculate me!”

The Old Man would not have even known what the word “emasculate” meant, much less figure that that’s what my mother was up to.

On the other hand, my mother thought “emasculation” had something to do with women getting the vote. But, in any event, Sex is rarely argued and fought over in any household I ever heard of, outside of heaving novels and nervous plays.

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