\n~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
\n* Day 5*<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n
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Tidings of Joy<\/strong><\/p>\n The night of the Christmas pageant was clear and crisp, as if the good Lord Hisself was in on the plan. Shoot, maybe He was. There weren\u2019t no more deserving family\u2014what was left of one, anyway\u2014than the Hemingways.<\/p>\n I stood across the street in the evenin\u2019 shadows, takin\u2019 it all in. The bonfires had been built up nice and big on either side, just like Adam and Little Joe had promised, both to light up the area and give off some heat. No one would be complaining about the cold tonight. The older students had pulled all the chairs out of the school and the church and set them up right in the middle of the street, all facin\u2019 the Hemingway home. Somebody had cobbled together a quick stage outside the front door\u2014not much to look at, but sturdy and big enough to get the job done.<\/p>\n Everybody had come together for this one, like I knew they would. Not because they thought my scheme was anything but foolishness, but because the Hemingways were our neighbors and they had been through a real rough time lately.<\/p>\n Maybe, though, it weren\u2019t so foolish as the town all thought. We\u2019d sure see.<\/p>\n I caught sight of Missus Hemingway in her front doorway, talking to Abigail Jones, and clapped the shoulder beside me. Our guest staggered\u2014that box of his weren\u2019t light\u2014but didn\u2019t drop anything. I nodded his attention toward the ladies. \u201cCome on, Hughes. There\u2019s Missus Hemingway now, let\u2019s go get you introduced and start settin\u2019 up.\u201d<\/p>\n He followed me across the road, ignoring the stares and mutterings that followed us. I\u2019ve never known why everybody in this town seems so dad-blamed set against trying out new ideas\u2014you never know but one of \u2018em might work\u2014but that didn\u2019t matter none tonight. Tonight, we were all gonna try for the sake of one little girl who wanted ta be an angel more than anything.<\/p>\n Miz Jones scurried off as we arrived, callin\u2019 for the shepherds to stop chasing those sheep around the stage and start gettin\u2019 the animals settled down. Missus Hemingway smiled up at me as I introduced my new friend, and it was the first real smile I\u2019d seen on her face in a long time. She\u2019d lost her husband last month just like that, and until just a coupla weeks past we hadn\u2019t known if little Maggie was going to pull through either. It was a right miracle that little girl was recoverin\u2019 now, even if the going was slow.<\/p>\n \u201cMissus Hemingway, this here is David Hughes. He\u2019s the one I was tellin\u2019 you about, from England, that\u2019s put together this here transmitter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMr. Hughes.\u201d She nodded to him, her eyes lingering on the box, and I could tell that even she had her doubts. It didn\u2019t matter\u2014Carol Hemingway was overwhelmed by the support she and her daughter had from the town, and she was willing to go along with just about any crazy notion to help her little Maggie be a part of the Christmas pageant tonight. The girl still wasn\u2019t able to leave the house, she was that weak, and until recently of course no one had been allowed in to visit. I had seen those blonde curls peeking over the windowsill earlier this evening, though, and two little eyes following all the progress from the upper window. She wanted to be out with those other kids in the worst way. This wouldn\u2019t allow for that, but maybe it would help in some little way. Missus Hemingway looked back to me. \u201cMr. Cartwright, I\u2019m so grateful to you for all you\u2019ve done to make this idea happen.\u201d She gazed helplessly at the chaos in the street before her house. \u201cIt\u2019s \u2026 well, it\u2019s just given us so much joy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWeren\u2019t nothing at all, Ma\u2019am.\u201d I waved away any other thanks and motioned to Hughes and his box. \u201cYou want to show us where we can get this set up?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes of course\u2014please come in.\u201d<\/p>\n We followed her through the parlor and up the stairs, then back toward the front. The house was bare, with not a sign anywhere that the holiday was near. I wondered if they didn\u2019t have the heart to celebrate this year, but when we reached the front bedroom I found that all their holiday fixin\u2019s had been crammed into that upper room. The walls were hung with pine boughs, red ribbons and strings of popcorn decorated the furniture and fixtures, holiday spices filled the air, and a tree stood in one corner. Of course\u2014Missus Hemingway would have put all their decorations up where her daughter could enjoy them too. Watchin\u2019 her face soften as her gaze fell on her daughter, I could see too that Missus Hemingway just didn\u2019t feel much like celebrating anywhere else.<\/p>\n Maggie was settled on a low couch beneath the front window, wrapped in a white quilt. She wore a pair of paper wings and a halo made of silver tinsel, and with her wide excited eyes she was just the cutest little angel ever. \u201cMr. Hoss!\u201d She grinned, showin\u2019 a coupla missing teeth, and her eyes fixed on the box. \u201cIs this it? Is this what\u2019s gonna make everybody hear me tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt sure is, Miss Maggie. You just do right what Mr. Hughes tells you, and everybody out there will be able to hear that angel announcin\u2019 the birth of Christ.\u201d<\/p>\n Hopefully.<\/p>\n There was a lot of static\u2014it was the problem that had kept Hughes from being able to market his invention or get anyone to take it seriously\u2014but he was workin\u2019 on it. As long as Miss Maggie talked loud enough, though, everyone should be able to hear her over the top. Abigail Jones had written up the angel\u2019s lines in short sentences, so hopefully Maggie would be able to catch her breath in between and manage the volume needed.<\/p>\n Hopefully.<\/p>\n Hughes got the thing set up on the side table, ran the wires to the battery, made sure the carbon bar was loose between the contacts. As he started showin\u2019 Maggie and Missus Hemingway how it all worked, Abigal Jones appeared in the doorway.<\/p>\n \u201cAre we ready?\u201d She eyed the transmitter doubtfully, but nodded firmly when Hughes pronounced everything set. \u201cWe\u2019ll start in ten minutes then\u2014I have to get everyone into their seats and the children and animals in their places. Why I let Peter Simmons talk me into allowing chickens at the birth of Christ \u2026\u201d Miz Jones left, shakin\u2019 her head, and then I heard her down below givin\u2019 last minute instructions.<\/p>\n Well, this was it. It was either gonna work or it wasn\u2019t, but Miss Maggie was gonna have her part in the pageant and I guess in the end that was all that really mattered.<\/p>\n The narrator\u2019s first lines drifted up to us, and we settled back to listen. The story went on like it always does\u2014like it did that first time, and all down through the years. The high voices of the children and the bleating of goats and bawling of calves and even the clucking of chickens added their backdrop, washin\u2019 over us all against the flickering light of the bonfires and a starlit sky. I was so caught up in it that I almost missed Miss Maggie\u2019s cue, but Missus Hemingway\u2019s movement to light the lamp in the window caught my eye just in time. Hughes leaned forward and plugged the last wire into the battery.<\/p>\n Nothing happened\u2014no cracklin\u2019 static met that final connection. Hughes\u2019 expression fell, and my own heart sank. Maggie would say the lines, of course, and maybe no one would even tell her it hadn\u2019t worked. But we had so wanted the audience to hear that sweet voice \u2026<\/p>\n O\u2019 course, Maggie didn\u2019t know what was supposed to happen. She just went on and started in with those well-known words\u2014\u201cBehold! I bring good tidings! And great joy!\u201d<\/p>\n And somehow, even without all the static that usually meant the box was workin\u2019, them words rung down from that upper window and across the street. Hughes and I gaped at each other, too surprised to even make a move for the transmitter. A low murmur rose up from the watchin\u2019 crowd, but it weren\u2019t loud enough to interrupt and Miss Maggie just kept on, breathin\u2019 between each sentence, until the final \u201cgood will to men!\u201d finished, clear as day\u2014and followed by a burst o\u2019 static that near deafened me.<\/p>\n Hughes snatched the wire out, wonder and surprise and frustration all on his face. Missus Hemingway sat down beside little Maggie, huggin\u2019 her laughing daughter with tears rolling down her face. And I just stared at that transmitter box, and the Christmas decorations around us, and the scene unfoldin\u2019 on that little homemade stage below, and knew I\u2019d been right earlier on.<\/p>\n Seemed like the good Lord Hisself was in on the plan, after all.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Merry Christmas!!<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Prompt: Microphone, 1827\u00a0\u00a0\u2026 Although, this was actually a later version called a carbon microphone that was developed during the second half of the century (in the 1870s, but if the show writers can stretch historical timeframes so can I ;-). It was, so says Wikipedia, called a transmitter at the time.<\/p>\n Character: Hoss<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Link to Day 6 of the Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar – A Goodyear Christmas<\/a><\/span> by Heather-Crysalis<\/p>\n![\":christmas5:\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.bonanzabrand.info\/forums\/uploads\/emoticons\/xmas6.gif?ssl=1\" "\\":christmas5:\\"")
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