First, a story. A little Christmas Story. I call it "The Story of Schmuel, Tailor of Klimovich"
Schmuel would work till half-past ten at his tailor shop in Klimovich. Get up at dawn and start again with the hems and pins and twist. Forty-one years had come and gone at his tailor shop in Klimovich. Watching the winters soldier on, there was one thing Schmuel missed
"If I only had time," old Schmuel said, "I would build the dress that's in my head. A dress to fire the mad desire of girls from here to Minsk. But I have no more hours left to sew"
Then the clock upon the wall began to glow...
And the clock said: "Na na na na, na na na Oh Schmuel, you'll get to be happy! Na na na na, na na na I give you unlimited time! Na na na na, na na na So Schmuel, go sew and be happy!"
But Schmuel said "No, no, it's not my lot I've gotta make do witht he time I've got"
Schmuel was done at half-past ten and he said "Good night, old Klimovich!" Put on his coat to go, but then the clock cried, "Wait! Not yet! Even though you're not wise or rich you're the finest man in Klimovich. Listen up, Schmuel, make one stitch and you'll see what you get"
But Schmuel said "Clock, it's much too late - I'm at peace with life - I accept my fate..."
But the clock said, "Schmuel! One stitch and you will unlock the dreams you've lost!"
So Schmuel, with reluctance, took his thread. He pulled a bolt of velvet and said, "I should take out my teeth and go to bed I'm sitting here with talking clocks instead!"
And the clock said: "Na na na na, na na na Oh Schmuel, you'll get to be happy! Na na na na, na na na, I give you unlimited time Na na na na, na na na Just do it and you can be happy!"
So Schmuel put the thread through the needle's eye, and the moon stared down from a starless sky. And he pushed the thread through the velvet black, and he looked, and the clock was turning...back! So he grabbed his shears and he cut some lace as the hands moved left on the old clock's face, and his fingers flew and the fabric swirled - -it was nine-fifteen all around the world.
Every cut and stitch was a perfect fit as if God Himself were controlling it! And Schmuel cried through a rush of tears, "Take me back! Take me back all forty-one years!"
And on it went down that silent street 'til Schmuel's dress was at last complete.
And he stretched his arms. And he closed his eyes.
And the morning sun finally started to rise.
And the dress he made on that endless night was a dress that would make any soul take flight. Not a swatch, not a skein had gone to waste, every ribbon and button ideally placed. And sewn into the seams were forty-one seasons of dreams.
Dreams that you could feel coming real.
And that very dress, so the papers swore, was the dress a girl in Odessa wore on the day she promised forevermore to love a young man named Schmuel, who only one day before had knocked at her kitchen door.
Plenty have hoped and dreamed and prayed but they can't get out of Klimovich. Maybe it's just that you're afraid to go out on to a limb-ovich - maybe your heart's completely swayed, but your head can't follow through.
But I say, "Na na na na, na na na oh honey, you'll get to be happy. Na na na na I give you unlimited time."
Take a breath.
Take a step.
Take a chance.
Take your time.
Life isn't about being over. Life is about to begin.
Happy 2010, readers.