“Dhondiram and Shanker, turn 35 today”

November 8, 2012

Written for this occasion by Bill and Beverly Salmon

            Was it 1978 or ’79 when the Wiegles and the Salmons shared the 3^rd floor of the Centrum in Brussels, Belgium? Beverly and I will never forget that old, wonderful gift of some women’s religious order. It had a wonderful inner courtyard with a “nun’s walk” around the inside wall that had us walk past several wall-frescos including the mask of the devil.

            We often recall the nearly unusable wire-cage “lift” that was used only by important guests and the infirm. What a struggle it was to carry luggage up to the third floor. This was made more difficult by the fact that each floor was a foot lower—or higher—than its mate.

            There are many stories to remember about the activities in this facility. During one summer, several Dutch college students interned with us—we discovered they didn’t like brussels sprouts—something of an irony in the city of Brussel, Belgium. One characteristic I vividly recall early in their visit. I was on the Wake-up Team, walking through each floor beating a brass symbol while singing, “Praise the Lord. Christ is Risen.” Who should we greet but two of the more studley Holland-aise walking to the bathroom in nothing more than their panties. I damned near swallowed the drum beater, yet bravely carried on the ritual. After this, the Wake-up Team was a volunteer favorite.

            During the winter time, the former nunnery had steam-heat problems. The furnace pump never had enough oomph to push the hot water clear up to the top floor. So, where did the Wiegles and Salmons live? Yep, right on the third floor. It was so damned cold. . .

            Beverly and I were used to sleeping on the floor on a Korean Yo. It was an ideal fold-up feature since the rooms were former Nun’s Quarters and very sparse, including the amount of heat.

            Beverly was very helpful for me. Because I was nearly bald with thinning hair, my head was uncomfortably cold. For several nights, I slept with my cotton underwear on my head. Since Beverly couldn’t stop laughing, she made me a night cap much like that featured in the famous poem, “The Night Before Christmas.”

            Now, at last, it is Christmas that I wanted to get to.

            European Centrum had many youth. During our initial years in Belgium the youth were assigned to French-speaking schools. During their first year it was possible to set in the 2^nd floor TV room and watch Saturday cartoons telecast from Great Britain. Unfortunately, by the second year their French skills were sufficient that our kids preferred to watch them in French. It certainly was a killer in adult attendance at such times; maybe that was the intent of the youth after all?

            The Advent season is exciting in Europe. Each neighborhood plaza brims with Christmas kiosks, and the local bars, vintners, and coffee shops are filled with neighbors sitting outside, even in the cold, enjoying the passing scenery in the neighborhood.

            I can remember one night when Santa arrived. He was skinny as a rail and black! Cinder-klaus made the season jolly. The Centrum youth put on an extraordinary Christmas pageant—I believe it was the story of, “The Grinch who stole Christmas.” It could not have been better.

            Let’s get back to the 3^rd floor. In the later years of the 1970’s, you boys where little more than babies. Alright, you were BIG BABY BOYS, and—like your progenitor—you were full of piss and vinegar. You were not so naughty as that you were full of inquisitiveness and into everything.

            The Belgian tradition of Cinterklaus—as in much of northern Europe—is that the children put their shoes outside the front door in anticipation of the Old Skinny Elf. For good little children each one received an appropriate gift. . . .,

. . . and for those children who were naughty they received COAL!

            On Christmas Eve, when Beverly and I slowly climbed the steps to our very cold 3^rd floor apartment to spread out our bed clothes—and for me to put on my night cap—we looked down the hall to our next door neighbor just to observe if the Wiegle family was keeping custom. Much to our pleasure, there were two sets of little boy shoes sitting bravely by their hallway door. Beverly and I laughed until we went to sleep. What would the Wiegle twins get in their shoes on Christmas morning?

            On awakening (was I on Wake-up duty again?), we both rushed to our apartment door, peered down the hall to observe the shoes. What did we find?

TRADITION!

            Happy Birthday, boys. Keep your coal fires burning.

            Inner Peace,

            Beverly and Bill Salmon

            Salina, KS

            November 9, 2012