The snow had thickened and the chill had
followed its wintry lead and made the tall
fir tree difficult for the tall bundled man
to carry along with his red burlap sack. The
white high-finned Cadillac slowed on the white
road and a power window whirred down on
the front passenger side. The Caddy was so big
the three big men all sat in the front seat.
"Come in out of there, Frosty," the guy in the
red stocking cap called out. "Open the trunk,
Frank, so the gentleman can store his tree
in there. Then, buddy-pal, you get in the back
seat and take a slow swallow of hot mocha out
of this warm thermos my lady packed for us."
The tall man did as he was told and climbed in the
white leather seat, joining the three in the car.
The guy handed back the thermos and made
the introductions:
"I'm Stern, this middle man is Walker, and
Frank is Furillo like the Dodger Carl who
is as distant a cousin of Frank's as a Duke
Snider homer."
"Yeah," spoke Walker, "I'm CEO of Allied
Steel Parts for cars, trucks and tanks, our
MC Stern here is CEO of Fortified Steel
Products for haulers, eighteen wheelers
and freight trains, and Furillo is head
cheese at Stratified for aircraft components."
Furillo finished: "Allied, Fortified and
Stratified, met in Korea and been together
ever since."
Stern cut in, "That's us, now who are you?"
The man handed back the thermos.
"I'm Billy Grantland, Reverend, like the
real Right Reverend Billy Graham but without
the hair and the bigger church, much bigger and
deservedly so," he laughed freely, "but I get
mistaken more for that actor with the six-foot
rabbit for a pal."
"What's in the red sack, Reverend? " asked Walker.
Grantland reached in, removed a small red-handled hatchet.
"I'm sure glad you asked, but it's what I used to chop down
that Christmas tree now growing in your trunk. Wa'll, I just
wanted you guys to know I wasn't some yule ax murderer."
"That's a relief," Stern delivered in his best
Sid Caesar style.
"Wa'll, chopping down the tree for our house
is a ritual that waits for last, after our church
is all prettied up for the coming of the Baby
Jesus at the Forest Meadows Presbyterian
Church."
"Nothing pedestrian about that," chimed in
Walker, "I'm a Presbyterian myself while
Furillo here is a Catholic and Stern is the
same as Baby Jesus."
"Yeah," Furillo grinned, "we're a tossed salad if
you've ever ordered one. Like I said, we bonded
in Korea and it's been 'all for one and one for
all' ever since."
"Same wives and all the children finished or
are still in college," Stern stated matter-of-factly,
"while none of us partook of the G. I. Bill and
finished ourselves."
"Only family casualty was Frank Jr," Walker
said sadly.
"Yeah," explained Stern, "Little Frank came too
late for Dr. Salk's magic shot."
"Winged to heaven on his own ivory wings
Christmas Day, 1952," added Walker.
"Ever think of naming your church Forest Lawn
Presbyterian, Reverend?" Furillo joined in.
"We did," he answered affably, "but we figured all
the vacant plots are in the meadow and that's a lot
bigger grounds."
"Makes sense," Furillo came back. "You and the
Missus got any children yourselves, Reverend?"
"My wife and I cannot have children so we adopted
forty-four of our church families'. And they'll all be
at the eleven o'clock service tonight for their presents--
if we can fit them all in our little Christmas chapel,
which pains me because the snow is falling faster
than when I hiked the mile and a half to chop down
our living room tree."
"Short of space, Reverend?" Walker wanted to know
in dead earnest.
"Afraid so," Reverend Grantland confessed.
"Well, the Lord has shined upon you, good sir,"
Furillo announced. "We have threatened to do
this for years, just like the Three Kings, but not
with gold, frankincense or myrrh, with the kind of
help we can provide, in cash and in materials, steel
girders and the like to attach the pretty church
expansion to."
"There's only one caveat, one catch for me, Reverend,"
Stern deadpanned, this time Milton Berle. "My son
Allen takes his bar exam January 2nd-- you'd think
they'd recess another day or two-- and I need your
prayers big-time. So then we'll be Allied, Fortified,
Stratified and Ratified."
"I am moved beyond words about your gift, men,
and words -- His Word is what I make my living by,"
Reverend Grantland paused before continuing, "but
forgive me-- Mr. Stern, when you fellows are Allied,
Fortified, Stratified and Ratified, your Allen's ol' my pa-pa
will be, wa'll, Satisfied." Reverend Billy Grantland paused
once more, then started off again: "That would make
Allied, Fortified, Stratified, Ratified and Satisfied, Wa'll, it's
not the Twelve Days of Christmas but it comes pretty
darn close on this glorious night, ye married gentlemen.
I only wish my dear friend Rabbit Harvey-- the Right
Rabbit Harvey-- could be here to celebrate with us."
Grantland reached into the red sack and, magically,
came up empty.
"Come to think of it, gentlemen, I think maybe Harvey
is here. My ax is gone! Wa'll, you hear about pulling
a rabbit out of a hat-- how 'bout a hatchet disappearing
out of a Christmas sack?!"
They all laughed out loud in the cold December clear
as the three magi and their pastor passenger went dashing
through the snow in Furillo's white Cadillac.
followed its wintry lead and made the tall
fir tree difficult for the tall bundled man
to carry along with his red burlap sack. The
white high-finned Cadillac slowed on the white
road and a power window whirred down on
the front passenger side. The Caddy was so big
the three big men all sat in the front seat.
"Come in out of there, Frosty," the guy in the
red stocking cap called out. "Open the trunk,
Frank, so the gentleman can store his tree
in there. Then, buddy-pal, you get in the back
seat and take a slow swallow of hot mocha out
of this warm thermos my lady packed for us."
The tall man did as he was told and climbed in the
white leather seat, joining the three in the car.
The guy handed back the thermos and made
the introductions:
"I'm Stern, this middle man is Walker, and
Frank is Furillo like the Dodger Carl who
is as distant a cousin of Frank's as a Duke
Snider homer."
"Yeah," spoke Walker, "I'm CEO of Allied
Steel Parts for cars, trucks and tanks, our
MC Stern here is CEO of Fortified Steel
Products for haulers, eighteen wheelers
and freight trains, and Furillo is head
cheese at Stratified for aircraft components."
Furillo finished: "Allied, Fortified and
Stratified, met in Korea and been together
ever since."
Stern cut in, "That's us, now who are you?"
The man handed back the thermos.
"I'm Billy Grantland, Reverend, like the
real Right Reverend Billy Graham but without
the hair and the bigger church, much bigger and
deservedly so," he laughed freely, "but I get
mistaken more for that actor with the six-foot
rabbit for a pal."
"What's in the red sack, Reverend? " asked Walker.
Grantland reached in, removed a small red-handled hatchet.
"I'm sure glad you asked, but it's what I used to chop down
that Christmas tree now growing in your trunk. Wa'll, I just
wanted you guys to know I wasn't some yule ax murderer."
"That's a relief," Stern delivered in his best
Sid Caesar style.
"Wa'll, chopping down the tree for our house
is a ritual that waits for last, after our church
is all prettied up for the coming of the Baby
Jesus at the Forest Meadows Presbyterian
Church."
"Nothing pedestrian about that," chimed in
Walker, "I'm a Presbyterian myself while
Furillo here is a Catholic and Stern is the
same as Baby Jesus."
"Yeah," Furillo grinned, "we're a tossed salad if
you've ever ordered one. Like I said, we bonded
in Korea and it's been 'all for one and one for
all' ever since."
"Same wives and all the children finished or
are still in college," Stern stated matter-of-factly,
"while none of us partook of the G. I. Bill and
finished ourselves."
"Only family casualty was Frank Jr," Walker
said sadly.
"Yeah," explained Stern, "Little Frank came too
late for Dr. Salk's magic shot."
"Winged to heaven on his own ivory wings
Christmas Day, 1952," added Walker.
"Ever think of naming your church Forest Lawn
Presbyterian, Reverend?" Furillo joined in.
"We did," he answered affably, "but we figured all
the vacant plots are in the meadow and that's a lot
bigger grounds."
"Makes sense," Furillo came back. "You and the
Missus got any children yourselves, Reverend?"
"My wife and I cannot have children so we adopted
forty-four of our church families'. And they'll all be
at the eleven o'clock service tonight for their presents--
if we can fit them all in our little Christmas chapel,
which pains me because the snow is falling faster
than when I hiked the mile and a half to chop down
our living room tree."
"Short of space, Reverend?" Walker wanted to know
in dead earnest.
"Afraid so," Reverend Grantland confessed.
"Well, the Lord has shined upon you, good sir,"
Furillo announced. "We have threatened to do
this for years, just like the Three Kings, but not
with gold, frankincense or myrrh, with the kind of
help we can provide, in cash and in materials, steel
girders and the like to attach the pretty church
expansion to."
"There's only one caveat, one catch for me, Reverend,"
Stern deadpanned, this time Milton Berle. "My son
Allen takes his bar exam January 2nd-- you'd think
they'd recess another day or two-- and I need your
prayers big-time. So then we'll be Allied, Fortified,
Stratified and Ratified."
"I am moved beyond words about your gift, men,
and words -- His Word is what I make my living by,"
Reverend Grantland paused before continuing, "but
forgive me-- Mr. Stern, when you fellows are Allied,
Fortified, Stratified and Ratified, your Allen's ol' my pa-pa
will be, wa'll, Satisfied." Reverend Billy Grantland paused
once more, then started off again: "That would make
Allied, Fortified, Stratified, Ratified and Satisfied, Wa'll, it's
not the Twelve Days of Christmas but it comes pretty
darn close on this glorious night, ye married gentlemen.
I only wish my dear friend Rabbit Harvey-- the Right
Rabbit Harvey-- could be here to celebrate with us."
Grantland reached into the red sack and, magically,
came up empty.
"Come to think of it, gentlemen, I think maybe Harvey
is here. My ax is gone! Wa'll, you hear about pulling
a rabbit out of a hat-- how 'bout a hatchet disappearing
out of a Christmas sack?!"
They all laughed out loud in the cold December clear
as the three magi and their pastor passenger went dashing
through the snow in Furillo's white Cadillac.
