The Christmas Story

A radio talk show host was just touting “The Christmas Story” as one of the better seasonal movies. Within the past month, several people have asked me if I have seen it, as is the case every year. Yes, and even better. The movie was produced in 1983, but its roots date well back from that. It’s an amalgam of some short stories written by Jean Shepherd. Most delight in the movie but fail to take the step closer to nirvana of tracing it to the wellspring. I discovered Jean Shepherd in the early 1970s while manning a post that mostly demanded the skill of staying awake. Sometimes, you were lucky enough to inherit a piece of reading material from the prior occupant. On one such evening, I was bequested a well-thumbed edition of “Playboy.” I had already seen it and had done a thorough evaluation of the photographic art. So, on this particular evening, after a quick refresher of the visuals, I turned to the verbiage. The reviews of gold watches, exotic sports cars and clothing priced congruent with the status of their logos held little interest. I was scrambling to break even with my personal finances. Likewise, I had no interest in the advice for maintaining simultaneous intimate relations with more than a half dozen partners. That was not a problem I was grappling with. I landed at “Lost at C,” a short story by Jean Shepherd. Steeped in boredom, I tentatively began to read it. Within a few paragraphs, I was rapt. It simply resonated with me. A school boy shows up for class totally unprepared and prays he will not get called upon. Who couldn’t relate to that? It was the story of my educational life. Of course, he is called upon to come to the blackboard and solve an equation in front of everyone. To go further would digress from this story. This sampling ignited a lust for Shepherd’s writing. I was ecstatic to discover that he had stories published in prior issues and eventually hunted them down. They were even better than my initial taste. Even better, I learned that there were books of compilations of his stories, which I purchased and consumed over and over. Fast forward almost a decade and I’m a magazine publisher. I had written for publication since sixth grade but still considered myself “aspiring” and revered a number of accomplished authors. I was able to leverage my position to meet some of those who still drew breath. Jean Shepherd was at the top of my list and fortunately resided in a city that I frequented for business. I was able to lure him out for lunch. I never had a fan mentality and am far from a gusher, yet I found myself telling him just how much I treasured his writing. Jean smiled kindly and politely corrected, “I’m not a writer. I’m a story teller.” That he was. And his greatest gift was telling stories that reverberate deep in the hearts of many. My gift to you this season is to admonish not to shortchange yourself by simply partaking of “The Christmas Story.” It’s just an appetizer. Treat yourself to the entire menu.