No Room In The Inn

My granddaughter Grace, the youngest of my three grandkids, has a nativity scene with which she is fascinated. She is constantly rearranging the figures. There is only one of which she identifies with any regularity: “Baby Jesu.” (She is either having trouble with the “s” or speaking in classic Latin.)

Her two-year old cousin in Texas refuses to admit to the divinity at all. When told it is the baby Jesus, she adamantly corrects her mother, “No! It is just a baby.” (She would be termed a “maverick” had that designation not been opted by a ditsy individual who can see Russia from her front porch.)

“Baby Jesu” keeps coming up missing. I have explained to her father that she is merely being liturgical. The baby isn’t due until Christmas Eve. Of late, the only one in the stable is the shepherd boy. Even Mary has been relegated to a spot among the cows.

All this reminds me of the locally famous “Living Nativity” staged in my boyhood hometown; a village of about 15,000 souls with a Creek Indian name which means "Buzzard's Roost." (It was aptly designated.)

The nativity was situated in the public park on Broadway since it got the most automobile traffic. Various townspeople volunteered to be shepherds and wisemen. Mary and Joseph were generally chosen by the local pediatrician since he knew whose baby could handle the situation with the quietest demeanor and didn't require a pacifier. (Despite the occasional appearance of a pair of canvas Keds, the look was relatively gratifying.)

The animals were the most difficult to cast. Cows were ok, sheep a bit of a challenge, but camels are not native to Alabama. Otis Sprayberry, who furnished the livestock and insisted a sign be erected near the stable to attest of his altruism, offered three mules to be the transport of the seers of the East.

“Hold on!” This was the cry of Mrs. Augusta Lawson, the art teacher, who was the artistic consultant of the project. In her vision, there were camels. A mule is not a camel.

Mrs. Lawson was an enterprising woman. (Not only an artist, she was also the author of a very popular book, “What To Do With The Preacher On A Hot Day.” Relax, it was a book of cool drink recipes for entertaining and was very popular among the Presbyterians.)

Not content that three mules would spoil her Living Nativity, she fashioned papier-mâché “humps” which were attached to the sagging topsides of the aging equines. She also improvised a large headdress to further camouflage the fact that they were not camels. She insisted they be placed as far from the street as practical – off in the shadows to achieve as much illusion as possible. The placement really bothered the wisemen who were responsible for keeping the “camels” from straying away. Who could see them in the dark?

Maylene Moore made all the costumes. It was a real improvement over the “terrycloth bathrobe” look most associated with local Christmas pageants. Mrs. Lawson had sketched patterns adapted from famous paintings. Since most of the fabric was donated by the local cotton mill, something was lost with the preponderance of blue cotton ticking. (The blue did look good on the Virgin Mary.)

Things went well for the most part. That is until the handbell choir from the Methodist Church at Renfro made a guest appearance to play “carols and hymns of the season.” Rather than Christmas charm, the enthusiastic clanging had an alarming effect on the “camels.”

Despite the fact that Junior Sprayberry, the oldest boy of Otis, was Melchoir and familiar with his beast, he was unable to hold on. The frightened creature bolted, plowed right through the bell-ringers and headed down Broadway. The two others followed close behind. These followed by three wisemen. It was a cloudy night, so there was no star to guide them. By the time the “camels” reached Fourth Street, the humps had shifted position to become udders. It really frightened Birtie Parker who was out walking her dog, Mitzi. She did so each night to avoid the buzzards.

The parents of Baby Jesus assessed the trauma of the evening. He came up missing too.