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The thought of another holiday season overwhelms me, and I pull over in a small parking lot across the street from the park. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m walking in the direction of where the whales will be put up. There is a man there, part of the parks crew, diligently preparing the area for the decorations it will soon hold. As I approach, he assumes I’m a volunteer. He couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“What’s with the whales?” I ask, getting straight to the point. “They have nothing to do with Christmas. They don’t fly Santa’s sleigh, they aren’t part of the nativity scene, and I don’t remember any carols with whales in them. I’ve seen this town put up lighted whales for the last four years, and I can’t look at them for one more without knowing why.” I’ve obviously surprised him because he looks as if I’ve just spit in his face.
After a moment he composes himself and says firmly, “These whales have everything to do with Christmas.”
Now it’s my turn to look shocked. I look at him, my mouth hanging open just a little. How could they have everything to do with Christmas? I try to ask him but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, “Huh?”
Mark, as his shirt says, comes over and puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me over to a low stone wall. “Have a seat. It looks like you could use some Christmas spirit,” he says gently. “I’ll tell you the story of the Christmas Whales.”
I sit down and wait as he collects himself once again. Mark sighs deeply looking down at the ground, then into my eyes and begins his story.
“The whales haven’t always been part of our annual Christmas decorations. It used to be all about Santa, the elves, the Christmas tree, and presents. People drove for hours to see our park all lit up, to rekindle their Christmas spirit. Children’s eyes glowed with joy, and parents seemed genuinely happy to be together and with their kids. One year we even had Santa himself stop by. The kids all took turns sitting in his lap and telling what they wanted for Christmas: a bike, video games, a puppy. You know, the usual stuff. But there was one special little girl who made a different request. When Santa asked what she wanted for Christmas, she said she wanted her mommy and daddy to be happy because they were really sad. It would have seemed like an odd request, but Santa knew she was sick. He knew she wouldn’t see many more Christmases, that the pink and white hand-knitted cap on her head was to cover the effects of the last round of chemo, the last that the doctors were willing to attempt.
“Christmas came and went and Emily’s parents tried their best not to look sad when she was around, but grief had consumed their lives as quickly as the cancer had consumed the body of their only child. Over the next six months, Emily was in and out of the hospital several times. In late June, she went in but didn’t leave. It became apparent that this would be her last Christmas if she lasted that long. She spent most of her time in the hospital reading. She loved books about the sea. Next to Christmas, they were her favorite things in the world. Her walls at home were covered with posters of dolphins, tropical fish, and whales. She had decided a long time ago, after a family vacation to Sea World, that she was going to be a marine biologist when she grew up.
“Towards the end of November, Santa visited the children’s cancer ward at the hospital. Each child had their turn to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas. Even in such a different setting, most of the requests were alike. When it was Emily’s turn, she again asked Santa to make her parents happy. She said that she would be leaving them soon, and she was afraid that they would be very sad even though she’s going to live with God. Touched by her selflessness and lack of fear, Santa asked Emily what she wanted for herself, anything at all. He watched as she thought it over.
“‘I want to see the ocean and swim with the dolphins and hear whales sing,’ she said softly. ‘I wonder if they know any Christmas carols.’
“‘I’ll do my best,’ Santa whispered with tears forming in his eyes.
“Christmas drew closer and closer until it was upon them. On the day before Christmas, a man came to see Emily’s father. They worked together for the city, but Emily’s father also recognized him as the Santa from the hospital. He asked if it would be possible for them to bring Emily to the park to see the Christmas lights. He said that he thought it would be very special for her since it was likely the last time she would get to see the decorations. Her parents talked it over with her doctor and decided that it would be a good idea to lift her spirits by taking her to see the light display.
“On Christmas Eve, bundled up warmly and carried by her father, Emily and her parents went to the park to celebrate Christmas together. Beyond the tree trunks wrapped in lights, past the giant Christmas tree, and even beyond the life size Santa Claus and snowman, they saw a crowd of at least a hundred people. The friend that had come to see Emily’s father was standing in front of them. All at once they shouted ‘Merry Christmas!’ and the park was covered in soft blue light coming from behind the people. They stepped away and revealed two enormous whales outlined with Christmas lights. Emily’s face lit up as the people began to sing Christmas carols. Her mom and dad stood amazed at the generosity of the people in front of them, most of whom they didn’t even know. The world became a little less cruel and scary for them that night.”
After his story is over, Mark stands up and looks over to where the whales will be standing by tomorrow. Then he says to me, “I’m sorry that you don’t like these whales, but every year seeing them gives my wife and I back that special moment we shared with our daughter. They remind us of the generous people in this town that put a lot of time and money and especially heart into making sure our daughter’s last Christmas was her best. They couldn’t bring her the ocean, but what they gave us was so much more important.”
I look at the people all around me, selflessly working to bring others joy. I feel guilty for being so self-centered and pessimistic about such an enormous act of kindness. I know that in a couple weeks there will be flocks of people seeing what I’m just now seeing for the first time. It’s funny how people are drawn to this town. I guess it’s just the right size for people to care.
The Christmas Whales
It’s that time of the year again. I pass the park on my way to work, and there are about twenty volunteers mixed in with the park's crew wrapping garland around posts and stringing lights. They’re working on the big display of lights that the city puts up every year. People come from all over the state to see the lights. I’ve always resented the fact that they can’t find anywhere better to go than our small town. I guess it’s just the right size for a tourist trap. But the volunteers look happy, like they are actually doing something important. I want to scream at them that they are just setting out the honey that will attract the flies that will swarm all over this town for the next month. And for what? To fill our restaurants and cross the streets outside the crosswalks and to gawk at the Christmas lights. And the damn whales! Whose idea was it to put lighted whales up as Christmas decorations?
The thought of another holiday season overwhelms me, and I pull over in a small parking lot across the street from the park. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m walking in the direction of where the whales will be put up. There is a man there, part of the parks crew, diligently preparing the area for the decorations it will soon hold. As I approach, he assumes I’m a volunteer. He couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“What’s with the whales?” I ask, getting straight to the point. “They have nothing to do with Christmas. They don’t fly Santa’s sleigh, they aren’t part of the nativity scene, and I don’t remember any carols with whales in them. I’ve seen this town put up lighted whales for the last four years, and I can’t look at them for one more without knowing why.” I’ve obviously surprised him because he looks as if I’ve just spit in his face.
After a moment he composes himself and says firmly, “These whales have everything to do with Christmas.”
Now it’s my turn to look shocked. I look at him, my mouth hanging open just a little. How could they have everything to do with Christmas? I try to ask him but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, “Huh?”
Mark, as his shirt says, comes over and puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me over to a low stone wall. “Have a seat. It looks like you could use some Christmas spirit,” he says gently. “I’ll tell you the story of the Christmas Whales.”
I sit down and wait as he collects himself once again. Mark sighs deeply looking down at the ground, then into my eyes and begins his story.
“The whales haven’t always been part of our annual Christmas decorations. It used to be all about Santa, the elves, the Christmas tree, and presents. People drove for hours to see our park all lit up, to rekindle their Christmas spirit. Children’s eyes glowed with joy, and parents seemed genuinely happy to be together and with their kids. One year we even had Santa himself stop by. The kids all took turns sitting in his lap and telling what they wanted for Christmas: a bike, video games, a puppy. You know, the usual stuff. But there was one special little girl who made a different request. When Santa asked what she wanted for Christmas, she said she wanted her mommy and daddy to be happy because they were really sad. It would have seemed like an odd request, but Santa knew she was sick. He knew she wouldn’t see many more Christmases, that the pink and white hand-knitted cap on her head was to cover the effects of the last round of chemo, the last that the doctors were willing to attempt.
“Christmas came and went and Emily’s parents tried their best not to look sad when she was around, but grief had consumed their lives as quickly as the cancer had consumed the body of their only child. Over the next six months, Emily was in and out of the hospital several times. In late June, she went in but didn’t leave. It became apparent that this would be her last Christmas if she lasted that long. She spent most of her time in the hospital reading. She loved books about the sea. Next to Christmas, they were her favorite things in the world. Her walls at home were covered with posters of dolphins, tropical fish, and whales. She had decided a long time ago, after a family vacation to Sea World, that she was going to be a marine biologist when she grew up.
“Towards the end of November, Santa visited the children’s cancer ward at the hospital. Each child had their turn to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas. Even in such a different setting, most of the requests were alike. When it was Emily’s turn, she again asked Santa to make her parents happy. She said that she would be leaving them soon, and she was afraid that they would be very sad even though she’s going to live with God. Touched by her selflessness and lack of fear, Santa asked Emily what she wanted for herself, anything at all. He watched as she thought it over.
“‘I want to see the ocean and swim with the dolphins and hear whales sing,’ she said softly. ‘I wonder if they know any Christmas carols.’
“‘I’ll do my best,’ Santa whispered with tears forming in his eyes.
“Christmas drew closer and closer until it was upon them. On the day before Christmas, a man came to see Emily’s father. They worked together for the city, but Emily’s father also recognized him as the Santa from the hospital. He asked if it would be possible for them to bring Emily to the park to see the Christmas lights. He said that he thought it would be very special for her since it was likely the last time she would get to see the decorations. Her parents talked it over with her doctor and decided that it would be a good idea to lift her spirits by taking her to see the light display.
“On Christmas Eve, bundled up warmly and carried by her father, Emily and her parents went to the park to celebrate Christmas together. Beyond the tree trunks wrapped in lights, past the giant Christmas tree, and even beyond the life size Santa Claus and snowman, they saw a crowd of at least a hundred people. The friend that had come to see Emily’s father was standing in front of them. All at once they shouted ‘Merry Christmas!’ and the park was covered in soft blue light coming from behind the people. They stepped away and revealed two enormous whales outlined with Christmas lights. Emily’s face lit up as the people began to sing Christmas carols. Her mom and dad stood amazed at the generosity of the people in front of them, most of whom they didn’t even know. The world became a little less cruel and scary for them that night.”
After his story is over, Mark stands up and looks over to where the whales will be standing by tomorrow. Then he says to me, “I’m sorry that you don’t like these whales, but every year seeing them gives my wife and I back that special moment we shared with our daughter. They remind us of the generous people in this town that put a lot of time and money and especially heart into making sure our daughter’s last Christmas was her best. They couldn’t bring her the ocean, but what they gave us was so much more important.”
I look at the people all around me, selflessly working to bring others joy. I feel guilty for being so self-centered and pessimistic about such an enormous act of kindness. I know that in a couple weeks there will be flocks of people seeing what I’m just now seeing for the first time. It’s funny how people are drawn to this town. I guess it’s just the right size for people to care.