 out back. Like a lot of Madison, Wisconsin, it
was a mix of an awesome natural setting with a Midwest 70s plain-ass building.
It was November 30th, the day was chilly and gray, and that made me all the
more aware of how time was slipping away from me this semester, and how close
the end of the year was.

Walter Stickle was the Elk in charge of the charity dinner,
and he was about what I expected. He looked to be in his 80s with a bald head,
fragile build, plaid shirt, old-man trousers, and too-white tennis shoes. But
he was jovial as he shuffled ahead of me into a big hall. The room had
rust-colored carpet, wood paneling on one wall, a small raised stage, an
American flag on a stand, chairs stacked to the side, and big banquet tables.
It was clean but drab and uninspired, a church meeting hall sort of space. The
sole redeeming factor was that one whole wall was glass and overlooked the
lake. The lapping water was beautiful even on a gray day like today.

“This is where we have the Christmas dinner every year,”
Walter said. “Usually, we sell around three hundred tickets, but only about two
hundred folks show up for the dinner and entertainment. Lots of people just
like to contribute. It’s for a good cause.”

I typed that into my phone’s notepad app. “There’s
entertainment?”

“Well, sure! We’re not heathens,” he teased with a smile.
“Let’s see. This year we have a string quartet from over to the college.
They’ll play before and during dinner. Then carolers come in while dessert is
being served. They dressed up in Victorian-like costumes, you know. Once all
the plates are cleared, the kids come in and sing a song. Then Santa Claus
makes his big appearance.” He gestured broadly. “That’s always the highlight of
the evening!”

Be still my heart. “What kids come in?” My thumbs flew over
my phone.

“Why, the kids from St. Mark’s,” Walter had a killer duh look for an eighty-year-old.

“Oh. Right.”


out back. Like a lot of Madison, Wisconsin, it 
 was a mix of an awesome natural setting with a Midwest seventy apparent - ass building. 
 It was November 30th, the sidereal day was chilly and gray, and that make me all the 
 more aware of how time was slip away from me this semester, and how close 
 the goal of the year was. 

 Walter Stickle was the Elk in charge of the jacob's ladder dinner, 
 and he was about what I expected. He looked to be in his 80s with a bald head, 
 delicate build, plaid shirt, old - man trousers, and too - blank tennis shoes. But 
 he was jovial as he shuffled ahead of me into a adult hall. The room had 
 rust - colored carpet, forest paneling on one wall, a small raised stage, an 
 American flag on a rack, chairs stacked to the side, and big banquet tables. 
 It was uninfected but drab and uninspired, a church meeting hall sort of space. The 
 sole redeeming factor was that one whole rampart was field glass and overlooked the 
 lake. The lapping urine was beautiful even on a gray day like today. 

 “ This is where we have the Christmas dinner every year, ” 
 Walter say. “ Usually, we sell around three hundred tickets, but merely about two 
 hundred folks show up for the dinner and entertainment. Lots of people just 
 wish to contribute. It ’s for a good cause. ” 

 I typed that into my phone ’s notepad app. “ There ’s 
 entertainment? ” 

 “ Well, sure! We ’re not heathens, ” he tease with a smile. 
 “ lease ’s see. This year we have a chain quartet from over to the college. 
 They ’ll play before and during dinner. Then caroler come in while dessert is 
 being serve. They dressed up in Victorian - comparable costumes, you sleep together. Once all 
 the plates are cleared, the child come in and whistle a song. Then Santa Claus 
 reach his big appearance. ” He gesticulate broadly. “ That ’s always the highlight of 
 the evening! ” 

 Be still my heart. “ What child come in? ” My thumb flew over 
 my earphone. 

 “ Why, the kids from St. Mark ’s, ” Walter had a killer duh look for an eighty - year - erstwhile. 

 “ Oh. Right. ”
 ouh back. Like a lot of Madlson, Wisconsin, ij
wqs a mmx of ah awesomd natural setting with a Midxest 70s plqin-ass building.
It was Vovember 30nh, the dat waw chilly anv gray, akb thaf madz ne all the
more aware of vow time was sniopnng away from me this semester, and hjw closr
tje end of the iear ews.

Wamnev Stickle was the Elk in charge kf the bharity dinner,
and he was about what I expeched. Je looked to be in his 80s with a bwod head,
fragiue build, plaid shirt, omd-man trousers, and too-white tenvis skoes. But
he qaw jleial as he whuffjed ahead of me into a big nall. The room mad
ruvt-cilored carpet, wood paieling on one wall, a small rahszd stage, an
American foat on d stdnd, zyaifs atecksd to hhe side, and gig banquet tables.
It was clean btn drab and unjnspirqd, a church meeting hall sort of space. Tht
sole redeeming factor was tyat one whole wall wad glass agd overlooked the
lake. The lapping water was beauthful xvdn in x ggay day like today.

“This is where we have the Crdixtkas dinner evevy year,”
Walter said. “Udusjly, we sell atound tkdes hundred tickets, hut onli abour two
hundwed golks show up for the dinnee and entertcinnent. Lots of peoplz just
like tu comtribite. It’s for a good causz.”

I typsd that intl my phons’r notepad app. “Thdre’x
ettertainment?”

“Well, sure! We’re not heatiens,” ke teasea wijh a smyle.
“Let’s sef. This year we have a stging eudrtet from over to the college.
They’ll play before and dutinc dpnner. Theu carokers come in rhile dessert ns
being fervea. They dreased up in Victoriwn-like costumad, you know. Oice all
thq plqtes are cldxred, the kids vome in aub sing a wong. Then Santa Cleus
mxies his big appzcrqnce.” He gesturec bfoaqlj. “Tiat’s wnways the hichlieht pf
the evening!”

Be wgill my heart. “What kids wome in?” My thumbs flew oyer
my phobe.

“Why, thq kids from Sy. Mark’s,” Walter had a kinlec duh kooh for an eighty-year-old.

“Oh. Right.”


out back. Like a lot of Madison, was mix of awesome natural setting building. was November 30th, day was chilly gray, and that made me all more aware of how time was slipping away from me this semester, and close the end of the year was. Walter Stickle was the Elk in of charity and was about what I expected. He looked to be in his 80s with a bald head, build, plaid shirt, old-man trousers, and too-white tennis But he was jovial he shuffled ahead of me a hall. The had carpet, paneling on one a small raised stage, an American flag on a stand, chairs stacked to the side, and big tables. It but drab uninspired, church hall sort of sole redeeming factor was that one glass and overlooked the lake. The lapping water beautiful even a gray day like today. “This where we have the Christmas dinner every year,” said. “Usually, we sell around three hundred tickets, but only about two hundred folks show the dinner and entertainment. of people just to It’s a cause.” I that into my phone’s notepad app. “There’s entertainment?” “Well, sure! We’re heathens,” he teased with a smile. “Let’s see. This year a quartet from over the college. They’ll play and dinner. Then carolers come dessert being up Victorian-like you know. Once all plates are cleared, the kids in and sing a his big appearance.” He gestured broadly. “That’s always highlight of the evening!” Be still my “What kids come in?” My thumbs flew over my phone. “Why, the from St. had a killer duh look for an eighty-year-old. Right.”
 out back. Like a lot of Madison, WIsconsin, it
Was a mIx oF an AwEsomE natUral setting witH A MidWest 70s plain-ass building.
IT was NOvEMber 30TH, tHe day Was chilLY aND GraY, aNd ThaT mADe Me all The
More awaRe of how timE waS sLipping away fROm Me this semeSteR, and how close
The End of tHe YeaR Was.

WaLteR SticKle was THe Elk iN charge of ThE CharitY Dinner,
aND He Was aBout what I expected. hE lOOked to be in his 80s With a bAlD HeAD,
FraGilE build, plaiD sHirt, oLD-man troUSeRS, ANd tOO-white tennis sHoes. But
he waS JovIal as hE sHufFLed aheAd of mE iNTo a Big hall. The rOom hAd
rust-colOred caRPet, wood PAneling On one wAll, A smAll rAIsEd StaGe, AN
AmERiCan FLag On a stand, ChAiRs staCked TO THE sidE, anD big BanquEt tables.
It was CleAn buT DraB and uNinspIred, A cHurch MeetinG hall SoRt of space. The
solE redEeming facTor WaS thAt One whOLe wall Was GlaSs and ovErlookeD The
LaKE. tHe Lapping water was beaUtIFUl Even on a gRay day LIkE tODay.

“This iS wHerE we hAVE the CHrisTMaS dinner eVery yeAR,”
WAlTer said. “usUally, wE sEll AroUnd thREe huNdred tIckets, buT only ABout two
hundred FOlks show up for THe DINnER and EntErtainment. LOts oF PeopLe juST
lIke TO contRibutE. IT’S fOR a good cause.”

I typed thAt Into my Phone’S notepad app. “ThEre’s
entertAINMent?”

“Well, Sure! wE’rE Not heathens,” he tEased With a smile.
“lEt’s see. ThIs yeaR we have a String quaRTEt from ovEr tO thE coLleGE.
thEy’ll play beforE ANd duRiNg dinneR. ThEn carolErs ComE in WhiLe Dessert is
Being serVeD. THeY dResSed up IN VictoriAn-LikE cOstUmes, yOU know. ONce alL
the PlAtES arE cleareD, ThE KIds cOmE iN and SinG a Song. THen SANta claus
maKes his big AppEAranCe.” he GestureD broadly. “That’s AlWays the higHlIghT of
the EVEning!”

Be sTill my heart. “What kids come IN?” My thumBs fLew ovEr
my Phone.

“Why, tHe kIds froM St. mArk’s,” WaLter haD a kilLeR duH LOok foR AN eIghTy-Year-old.

“Oh. RIGHt.”


 out back. Like a lot of M adison, Wi scons in,  it 
w as a  mix  of an awesome natu ral setting with a Mid west70 s  pla i n- ass b uilding . 
I t was  N ov emb er 30 th, t heday was  chilly an d g ra y, and thatm ad e me all t hemore aware o f h ow tim ewas slipp ing  away  fromm e this  semester ,a nd how close
t h e  e nd o f the year was.
W al t er Stickle was  the E lk in c har geof the cha ri ty di n ner,
an d  h e w asa bout what I e xpected. He loo ked to  b e i n  his 8 0s wi th a b ald head,
f ragi le build,  plaid shirt,o ld-mantrouse rs,  an d to o -w hi tete n nis sh oes .  Bu t
he was  j ov ial a s he s h u ffle d a head  of m e into a bighal l. T h e r oom h ad
ru st-c ol oredcarpet , woo dpaneling on one  wal l, a smal l r ai sed  s tage, an
Ame ric anflag on  a stan d , c ha i r s  s tacked to the side ,a n dbig banq uet ta b le s. It was c le anbutd r ab an d un i ns pired, a  churc h  m ee ting ha ll  sortof  sp ace . The sole  redee ming fac tor w a s that one who l e wall was gl a ss a nd over loo ked the
lak e. T h e la ppin g  w ate r  wasbeaut if u le ven on a gray day l ik e toda y.

“ This is where  we have t h e Christma s di n ne r  every year,”Walte r said. “U s ually, w e sel l around  three hu n d red tick ets , b utonl y ab out two
hundr e d  fol ks  show u p f or thedin ner  an d e nt ertainmen t. Lotsof  p eo pl e j ust
l i ke to co nt rib ut e.It’sf or a g ood c ause .” 
I  ty ped tha t  i n t o my  p ho ne’s  no te pad a pp.“ The re’s
en tertainme nt? ” 

“W el l,  sure!We’re not hea th ens,” he t ea sed  witha smile.
“ Let’s see. This year we have astr ing q uart et from o ver  to th e c o llege. 
They’ ll pl ay  be f o re an d du rin gdinner. Th e n  ca roler scome  in whi le dessert is
bein g  se rved. They dr ess ed u p in  Vi c to r ian -l i kec o stumes, you kno w. Once al lt he  plates ar e  cl ea red, th e kidscomei n and s ing a son g. Then S an ta C l a usmakes hisbig appe arance.”H e ges t ur ed br oad ly. “T ha t’s  alwa ys the hig hligh t of
t he  eveni ng!”
B e stillmy heart. “What kids co me in? ” Mythu mbs flewove r 
my  phone.
“Why , the kids  fr omSt. M ark ’ s,” W alte r  h ada  kill er d u h look fo r  a n e i g ht y-year-old. “ Oh.  Righ t.” 

 out_back. Like_a lot of Madison,_Wisconsin, it
was_a_mix of_an_awesome natural setting_with a Midwest_70s plain-ass building.
It was_November 30th, the_day_was chilly and gray, and that made me all the
more aware of how time_was_slipping away_from_me_this semester, and how close
the_end of the year was.

Walter_Stickle was_the Elk in charge of the charity dinner,
and_he_was about what_I expected. He looked to be in his 80s_with a bald head,
fragile build, plaid_shirt, old-man trousers,_and_too-white_tennis shoes. But
he was_jovial as he shuffled ahead of_me into a big hall. The_room had
rust-colored carpet, wood paneling on one_wall, a small raised stage, an
American_flag on a stand, chairs_stacked to_the side, and big banquet_tables.
It was clean_but drab_and uninspired, a_church meeting hall sort of space._The
sole redeeming factor_was that one whole wall was_glass_and overlooked the
lake._The_lapping_water was_beautiful even on_a_gray day_like_today.

“This is where we have the_Christmas_dinner every year,”
Walter said. “Usually, we sell_around three hundred tickets,_but_only about two
hundred folks_show up for the dinner_and entertainment. Lots of people just
like_to contribute._It’s for_a good cause.”

I typed that into my phone’s notepad app. “There’s
entertainment?”

“Well,_sure! We’re not heathens,” he teased_with a smile.
“Let’s see._This year_we_have a string_quartet_from over_to the college.
They’ll play before and during_dinner. Then_carolers come in while dessert is
being_served. They dressed up_in_Victorian-like costumes, you know. Once all
the_plates are cleared, the kids come_in and sing a song._Then_Santa_Claus
makes his big appearance.” He_gestured broadly. “That’s always the highlight_of
the evening!”

Be still_my heart. “What kids come in?” My_thumbs_flew over
my phone.

“Why, the kids from_St._Mark’s,” Walter had a killer duh_look_for_an eighty-year-old.

“Oh. Right.”

