The Night Grandpa Stu Almost Took Out Santa

One Thanksgiving, when I was a teenager, we spent the holiday down in Farmington at my aunt and uncle's place.  After stuffing ourselves with turkey, potatoes, stuffing and green bean casserole, the adults settled down for the post-carb stupor while us "young-uns" looked for an activity of interest.  We discovered that there was a Festival of Lights in Bon Terre, about fifteen or so miles away.  My dad (Grandpa Stu), who is always up for an adventure, offered to drive us over.  My cousin, her boyfriend, my sister, dad and I piled into my parents mini-van and headed out of town.  A light freezing drizzle was beginning to fall.  Most people would have turned back and stayed home, as a light freezing drizzle generally turns to freezing rain that does not bond well with tires.  But, the Stephensons are made of a different fabric than most.  Winter weather becomes an invitation to prove one's skill and stamina.  My Grandpa Clell always went for a drive when the weather got bad.  He never had anywhere he needed to be, he just wanted to prove he could do it.

We reached the Festival of Lights without incident and followed the few cars out and about through the lighted path.  To call the display a "festival" might have been stretching it a bit, but it was magic to us.  The car was warm, Bing was crooning, and we were all aglow with the advent of the Christmas season.  As we reached the end of the display, the freezing drizzle had, predictably, steadily intensified to a freezing rain.  The car path curved around to the right and led to the exit back onto the highway.  A man in a Santa Claus suit was standing in the curve, genially waving traffic through and wishing everyone a "Merry Christmas".

Between the blinking lights of the festival and the blinking ice falling from the sky, my dad failed to see the curve ahead.  Santa's genial wave turned to frantic flapping of the arms as Bing intoned, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..."  If you're image of Christmas involves Santa Claus diving headfirst into an icy ditch, then Christmas it indeed was.  Dad stopped short of the ditch, out of which Santa was nimbly making his way.  As Dad profusely apologized through the windshield, Santa waved us on with what appeared to be a "Merry 'mucking' Christmas!"  We made it home without further incident, although I don't think we received any candy canes from Santa's elves, and a story that has continued to follow Dad through the years.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara