The Spirit Before Christmas

So last night, Sheryl and I drove out to a bar called "Wildwood" at 21 Mile and Hayes - a 45 minute drive for us - to see Coldwater - a band that one of Sheryl's former patients plays in.

I had worked all day, and once I got home, we worked on Christmas stuff for hours. I was tired, and would have been more than happy to pack it in for the night, but the Fates didn't allow that.

When we got to the bar, we could hear the band from outside. I don't like to be overwhelmed by the music (that I don't choose! :)), so my mood was a little spoiled.

When we got in, Sheryl and I sat at the bar. We ordered drinks, and started a tab. We played Keno for most of the night, and perhaps ended up losing $5. Worthwhile for an evening of playing, I think.

During the band break - once we were able to hear each other - the bartender introduced himself from the other side of the bar. "Bob" was his name.

So Bob was a little older than us, and he sure seemed like he was having fun. He was experimenting with drink concoctions - a red "SweetTart" drink and a green "SweetTart" drink. Hmmmm... Christmas colors.

Well part of Bob's experiment was to include those of us at the bar in the taste test. We drank the shots and provided our input (the green one was really good - the red one... not so much). We got a little of Bob's story, too.

Bob had been a project engineer, and a few years ago, he was "downsized". So on a whim, he decided to go to bartender school. One night, he wandered into the Wildwood, and he struck up a conversation with the owner. He told the owner that he had just finished bartender school, and if the owner ever needed any help, give him a call. A couple weeks later, the owner called him and asked him to work.

Bob loved bartending. He worked hard to help the bar succeed. But after a while, he decided to get a "big boy's job", and he went back to work as a project engineer.

So all was well and good, and the owner of the Wildwood called Bob again. He needed Bob to work part-time if he could swing it. So Bob took on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.

Well, I told Bob that I will be taking the PMP exam (Project Management Professional) in March, and asked where he had worked.

"Oh," he said, "just some machine tool companies. Blah, blah, Cross, Lamb..."

Huh?? Cross and Lamb??

"Hey," I said, "my Dad worked at both Cross and Lamb!"

"Really? What's his name?"

"Well, he died in '91..."

"What was his name?"

"Jim Cummings."

"Yeah! Jim was a good friend of mine! I knew him well. He was in a car accident the day before he died."

"Ummm, yeah," I said, chills spreading over my body. "I was 25 when he died."

"I was at his funeral. Great guy."

"Wow."

"Yeah. You know, my son's name was Matt."

Chills again.

"He passed away when he was 25."

!!!

"I'm going to make us a special shot in a couple of minutes," he said. "We'll have a toast."

"Absolutely, Bob," I said.

Coldwater started rocking the house again. I think some glasses were rattling.

Bob made us a shot, and we toasted Jim and Matt.

The set was short since the bar stopped serving at midnight. After we could hear again, Bob said, "I've been dreaming a lot about Matt lately. His birthday is next month."

My dad's was this month.

We all agreed that we had been meant to be there, and I distinctly felt that Bob and I were both moved by the spirits.

Christmas spirits, perhaps?

When we left, Bob came from behind the bar. He hugged Sheryl, and hugged me. It was a strong hug. I told him, "Everything is the way it's supposed to be. Everything happens for a reason."

We parted ways, and my mind was completely blown. It's still blown.

Did we have a visit last night from the ghosts of Christmas past? Or simply the spirit of Christmas shouting above the music:

Merry Christmas to all... and to all a good night?