The Christmas story of the Redheaded Angel
By BILL DUNCAN
The View From Here
Just a few more days and Christmas will be. Christmas is a special time for me. I think it is so because of all the stories that can be told from Christmas memories. My favorite story, is one I have told often, but it is still a Christmas story worth retelling because it is about a redheaded angel.
In February 1989 we had a freeze in the whole state of Oregon. I was in the Veterans Hospital in Roseburg and the doctors decided I had to go to the Portland VA for surgery. There was a slight break in the weather and they sent me up north on I-5 in an ambulance that had chains on the tires in order to negotiate the ice on the freeway.
Even so the ambulance could only travel at about 5 miles an hour and believe me it was a rough ride with the chains crushing the ice in that 3 degrees above zero weather as we drove north to Portland. The decision to take me by ambulance was done so hurriedly I was in VA issued pajamas, a robe and knitted slippers. My clothes were left in Roseburg — as was my wife.
I barely had time to call her to say I was leaving via ambulance. The Portland VA is atop a steep hill and the ambulance had difficulty getting up that steep incline despite the chains.
I had surgery that next morning and stayed in the hospital a week.
My red-headed nephew, George Wilson, who lived in Portland would come by to visit his old uncle. But, my wife, Ada Grace, had to stay put in Roseburg because of the bad weather. When the doctor released me, the VA was going to send me home on a Greyhound bus — dressed in paper pajamas, because they would not allow me to take home the government issued pajamas.
George said no way was he going to allow his uncle to go home in paper pajamas on the Greyhound bus in that 3 degree weather. He had a Jeep Cherokee that could negotiate the ice just fine, he said. That still left me without any clothes. The Red Cross volunteers at the VA gave me some donated clothing, a wool shirt, cotton pants, a sweater, a jacket and a pair of brand new Nike shoes.
George and I set out for Roseburg, 125 miles south of Portland. It was at the same snail’s pace the ambulance had brought me north. It normally takes three hours to go from Portland to Roseburg at freeway speeds. It took us 7 hours.
When we finally arrived at my home. George was so unnerved, he decided he would spend the night. As we walked through the door, I told my wife:
"Here is your red headed angel."
George looked puzzled. But Ada knew actually what I meant.
Our son John some years before had given her a Christmas tree topper, a red headed angel. Ada thought it looked gaudy and never put it on the tree. When I asked why, she said. "I’ve never seen a red headed angel."
She saw one that day and each year thereafter, because that very special red headed angel sits on top of our Christmas tree even today. My nephew, George, died a few years from head injuries when he fell on an icy street in Portland, but to us and our Christmas tradition, he lives on in the immortal words of Moses Maimonides, "Everyone entrusted with a mission is an angel."
(Bill Duncan can be reached by writing to P.O. Box 812, Roseburg, OR 97470. His blog is www.theduncansonline.com/elderstatesman)