Day fourteen

So I told a Christmas Julie story and a Christmas Jenni story, so today will be a Christmas Ben story. Not that he has internet access to read it, but never mind.
When I was in high school, and we were living in the Corte del Potro house (so maybe Christmas 87) my little brother Ben was 5 and in the first grade. He was going to the school for the deaf that year and they picked him up early early in the morning in a van and dropped him off in the afternoon. I am avoiding the obvious comment about my brother riding the short bus.

The Friday before Christmas break the school for the deaf had a half day and they brought him home at lunch time. The only problem was that the school had failed to send notes home to let the parents know. Or perhaps they did and Ben lost the note on the bus. That part is unclear. What is clear is that the school bus driver dropped Ben off at the house and no one was home to let him in. Why the driver left a 5 year old and didn’t wait to see if he made it in the house will forever be a mystery.

Ever resourceful Ben walked down the block to the end of the street and knocked on the Carabajal’s door. Their daughter Rhiannon was Julie’s age and a sometime friend. He was pretty sure they would let him stay, or call his mom. Except they were not home either, so he walked back to our house at the top of the cul-de-sac and then all the way down the other side of the street to knock on the door of Julie’s other sometime friend January. No luck there either.
So he just went door to door knocking on all the houses until someone answered. Lucky for everyone it was a nice older couple a few doors down from the Carabajal’s. They did not know our family, but they knew the Carabajal’s and they had seen Ben playing in the neighborhood. They invited him in and gave him hot chocolate and let him watch TV. They were getting ready to leave town to go and visit their family. They tried calling my Dad at work, but as there are two Dr. Jerry Kinkades in the phonebook in Santa Fe, they of course got the answering service of the wrong one.

They must have missed seeing me walk up the street when I got home from school. When Rebecca, Ben’s mom got home they walked him up the street to the house and explained what happened. When I tell this story I always think how scary it must have been for Ben, it was December in New Mexico, and cold, and his mom was not home to let him in, and she was ALWAYS there when he got home. Except that if you know my brother, he pretty much takes everything in stride. I think here is this poor cold 5 year old desperately knocking on doors trying to get someone to take him in. But when he tells the story it is more of an adventure, the first time he was on his own against the world. I suspect his plan was if no one let him in he was going to build a shelter in the backyard and maybe rub two sticks together to start a fire.