Radio XMAS AM
by Andrew Brand
The clock clicked to 3:00 a.m. Christmas morning as Bing Crosby sang Silent Night to an invisible audience. Casey Allen ran his hand through his thinning gray hair and sank into the threadbare cushion of his WTKP studio chair. In the corner of the cramped studio stood a dilapidated, 3-foot, plastic Christmas tree. A short string of broken lights and three snowflake ornaments, each with a missing appendage, hung from the scattered branches. The sickly tree was all Casey had for company. He was alone and not just literally. If he was being honest with himself, he was most of all depressed.
When he started working in radio after high school, being a DJ was Casey’s dream gig. At some point, though, it all changed. Now he wondered what, if anything, he contributed to the world. This time of year, he liked the Christmas music fine, but the holiday itself just left him drowning in an eggnog bowl of loneliness.
An old phone next to the beat-up audio console rang. Casey bolted upright, fumbling to grab the dingy beige receiver off its cradle. “WTKP,” he answered. “Merry Christmas.”
“A Merry Christmas to you, Casey,” said a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.
He glanced to the caller ID next to the phone. It read: North Pole.
Casey had worn a circuitous path down the wrinkled road of growing older. Moving from Nebraska to Kansas to Iowa to Illinois, he took the radio jobs that best paid the bills. But even now, at 64 years old, he struggled to get by. His vagabond ways kept him from ever having meaningful relationships with anyone, except for possibly his listeners.
He looked back to the caller ID and blinked twice. It still read: North Pole. “And who am I talking to?” Casey asked the early morning Christmas caller.
“Casey Allen, this year I have chosen you,” the oddly familiar voice said. It was rough, yet soft around the edges.
“Who is this?” Casey said.
“No need to be coy, Casey,” the voice said. “You know who I am. Santa Claus.”
“Uh-huh,” Casey said skeptically. “You don’t sound so much like a Santa.”
The voice on the other end laughed. Not quite a “HO HO HO!” More of a “Heh, heh, heh!”
“Casey, my boy, that’s more to do with your ears than my voice. Anyway, I called to say thank you for the music tonight. All who have listened have absolutely enjoyed your selections. In fact, dare I say your musical selections every Christmas are beautiful, just beautiful.”
“You’re welcome and thank you,” Casey said feeling a brief moment of pride even if he was speaking to a prankster.
“And Casey, don’t worry. You needn’t believe I am Santa Claus for it to be true.” The Santa voice paused as if waiting for Casey to say something, and then added, “Do you have any questions?”
“Okay,” Casey said deciding to play along. “Here’s a question: how do you do it? Fly around the world in one night.”
“You have to understand, I don’t exist in time the way you do. In fact, I don’t exist in space the way you do.”
“What? You live in a different...dimension?”
“I suppose you could call it a different dimension, but it’s more than that. It’s a place created by those who have faith. Not the faith of any specific religion, but a spirituality. A belief that any baby born has the potential to become a king or a queen. To me, that is what the Christmas story is about.”
“What about the gifts?”
“I no longer furnish physical gifts, Casey. I give gifts of the heart. Caring. Love. A willingness for people to help each other. The Christmas Spirit.” Santa paused. “I am truly sorry to have to cut this short, yet I must now bid you a good night. So Merry Christmas, Casey Allen.”
Casey looked to the caller ID. Instead of North Pole, it now read: Happiness is yours to give.
“Wait!” Casey shouted. Not sure if Santa had hung up already. “Am I dreaming?”
After a long moment, Santa said, “I suppose I would answer that with a qualified, ‘Yes’. In the waking state, you might not be able to hear me.”
Casey startled awake. The phone receiver sat on its cradle and Bing was finishing up Silent Night. But something had changed. He felt different.
For the first time he could remember since being a child, Casey felt hope.
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© 2014 Andrew Brand - All rights reserved. Can not be reproduced or used without written permission
by Andrew Brand
The clock clicked to 3:00 a.m. Christmas morning as Bing Crosby sang Silent Night to an invisible audience. Casey Allen ran his hand through his thinning gray hair and sank into the threadbare cushion of his WTKP studio chair. In the corner of the cramped studio stood a dilapidated, 3-foot, plastic Christmas tree. A short string of broken lights and three snowflake ornaments, each with a missing appendage, hung from the scattered branches. The sickly tree was all Casey had for company. He was alone and not just literally. If he was being honest with himself, he was most of all depressed.
When he started working in radio after high school, being a DJ was Casey’s dream gig. At some point, though, it all changed. Now he wondered what, if anything, he contributed to the world. This time of year, he liked the Christmas music fine, but the holiday itself just left him drowning in an eggnog bowl of loneliness.
An old phone next to the beat-up audio console rang. Casey bolted upright, fumbling to grab the dingy beige receiver off its cradle. “WTKP,” he answered. “Merry Christmas.”
“A Merry Christmas to you, Casey,” said a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.
He glanced to the caller ID next to the phone. It read: North Pole.
Casey had worn a circuitous path down the wrinkled road of growing older. Moving from Nebraska to Kansas to Iowa to Illinois, he took the radio jobs that best paid the bills. But even now, at 64 years old, he struggled to get by. His vagabond ways kept him from ever having meaningful relationships with anyone, except for possibly his listeners.
He looked back to the caller ID and blinked twice. It still read: North Pole. “And who am I talking to?” Casey asked the early morning Christmas caller.
“Casey Allen, this year I have chosen you,” the oddly familiar voice said. It was rough, yet soft around the edges.
“Who is this?” Casey said.
“No need to be coy, Casey,” the voice said. “You know who I am. Santa Claus.”
“Uh-huh,” Casey said skeptically. “You don’t sound so much like a Santa.”
The voice on the other end laughed. Not quite a “HO HO HO!” More of a “Heh, heh, heh!”
“Casey, my boy, that’s more to do with your ears than my voice. Anyway, I called to say thank you for the music tonight. All who have listened have absolutely enjoyed your selections. In fact, dare I say your musical selections every Christmas are beautiful, just beautiful.”
“You’re welcome and thank you,” Casey said feeling a brief moment of pride even if he was speaking to a prankster.
“And Casey, don’t worry. You needn’t believe I am Santa Claus for it to be true.” The Santa voice paused as if waiting for Casey to say something, and then added, “Do you have any questions?”
“Okay,” Casey said deciding to play along. “Here’s a question: how do you do it? Fly around the world in one night.”
“You have to understand, I don’t exist in time the way you do. In fact, I don’t exist in space the way you do.”
“What? You live in a different...dimension?”
“I suppose you could call it a different dimension, but it’s more than that. It’s a place created by those who have faith. Not the faith of any specific religion, but a spirituality. A belief that any baby born has the potential to become a king or a queen. To me, that is what the Christmas story is about.”
“What about the gifts?”
“I no longer furnish physical gifts, Casey. I give gifts of the heart. Caring. Love. A willingness for people to help each other. The Christmas Spirit.” Santa paused. “I am truly sorry to have to cut this short, yet I must now bid you a good night. So Merry Christmas, Casey Allen.”
Casey looked to the caller ID. Instead of North Pole, it now read: Happiness is yours to give.
“Wait!” Casey shouted. Not sure if Santa had hung up already. “Am I dreaming?”
After a long moment, Santa said, “I suppose I would answer that with a qualified, ‘Yes’. In the waking state, you might not be able to hear me.”
Casey startled awake. The phone receiver sat on its cradle and Bing was finishing up Silent Night. But something had changed. He felt different.
For the first time he could remember since being a child, Casey felt hope.
Back to Andrew's Page
© 2014 Andrew Brand - All rights reserved. Can not be reproduced or used without written permission