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| THE COLONY NEWS | DECEMBER 2020 | 19 THE FRUITCAKE The following was another popular essay when it was first published in 2004. It was written by Ken Kelley, who was a Feature Writer for the newsletter when he lived in The Colony. Enjoy! This coming Christmas morning, some lucky Colonist may receive The Fruitcake. Of course, everybody knows that there is really only one fruitcake in the world. Each person who receives The Fruitcake on Christmas stashes it away in the closet until the next Christmas and then sends it to a lucky friend or relative. I imagine that The Fruitcake has traveled several times around the world. I have never received The Fruitcake. Fate, I think, has protected The Fruitcake because I like fruitcake and if I ever receive it, its journey will be over. I have never understood why The Fruitcake deserves such ignominious treatment. Knowing a little about the construction of The Fruitcake, I know that it is a labor of love that takes overburdening time and effort. I may be in error, but I imagine that The Fruitcake was first conceived and created by some lonely Monk in a partially abandoned monastery high on some mountain top in the French Alps. At, least, that's the way I imagine it. It's likely also that he may have been in a creative mental state resulting from overindulging in the monastery's grape juice which, I understand, Monks were prone to do every eventide. How else explain the conglomeration of fruits, nuts, and flakes. COMMUNITY BULLETIN BOARD AS CHRISTMAS NEARS The following essay received rave reviews from our readers when it was first published in 2008. It was written by Jim Foley, a former Feature Writer for The Colony News who is no longer with us. We hope you enjoy it this time around! It was like being hugged by a bear as ladies in their big, long coats got on, squishing us kids. The coats were still damp with snow. The grown-ups hung on the straps as the bus lurched from stop to stop, heading downtown. We knew we were getting closer when we heard the Salvation Army bells as the doors opened. The tinkling got muted as the doors closed and we'd lurch onward to the next stop. Closer and closer! Occasionally, through the steamy windows, we'd get a glimpse of the light poles adorned with their little Christmas trees and red bows. Everyone was smiling and friendly. It was contagious. At each stop, a group would squeeze and push to the exit door followed by an incoming wave of more smiling, snowy people. As we got closer, the excitement was palpable. The conversation level between total strangers was getting really loud. Then the bus stopped and a tide of people swept off the bus, seeming to carry everything before it. We were at City Hall, downtown – we were there! We milled around in confusion on the sidewalk until my mother corralled us, while we tried to bolt in every direction. Cars drove past and splashed the puddles onto the sidewalk, but it didn't seem to matter. The noise, the bright lights, the bells, the decorations, Christmas music playing from the public speakers – all made for a delirious mood. Holding hands, we hopped and jumped across the street to join the crowd at Filene's windows. The crowd was eight or ten deep. We abandoned courtesy and dove through the adults, wiggling and squirming until our noses were on the cold, frosty glass. Eyes popped wide in the brilliant white light of the scenes before us. In one window, blond-haired dolls pirouetted and slowly circled out of chalet doors across glassy ponds, then disappeared over the hills, only to return to once more come out of the chalets in their bright and colorful costumes. We would name each doll and then cheer wildly when she reappeared from the chalet. Birds in the branches dipped back and forth as the trees collected the snow falling on the scene. In another window, furry bears and other animals frolicked in the snow. Alvin and the Chipmunks sang like a barbershop quartet in another, turning in circles and pointing at us. My favorite was the window with the trains. They came from the left, they came from the right. Three, four, or five trains in motion all the time; over bridges, in and out of tunnels; "Whoof-choof " as one labored up a grade; "Whee-a-wooo" as the slick passenger train roared around a bend; down came crossing gates as bells clanged; at the passenger station, an engine hissed steam. It was too much magic to absorb all at once. We were pried away to catch the bus back home. A man behind me said, "The children really enjoy this show." But he got to stay and watch some more. Christmas Memories

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