Excerpt fromPretty Paperby Willie Nelson
HAPPY HOLIDAYS
It was a rough Christmas in a rough town.
Back in the early 1960s, Fort Worth was still the Wild West.
There was no shortage of honky-tonks.
The city was a haven for hustlers whod mastered the art of living outside the law.
Gangsters controlled the bookie joints, the brothels and most of the nightspots.
In the midst of all this, I was struggling to get my career off the ground.
Actually career is too fancy a word.
I was a just a broke-ass picker looking to make a living making music.
I did manage to get a gig deejaying on KCNC, but that didnt last.
Neither did my half-baked attempts to peddle Kirby vacuum cleaners andEncyclopedia Americanas.
Proud to say, I was no good at convincing peopleespecially hardworking people to buy stuff they didnt need.
What I needed was a break.
And a break meant a hit song.
I didnt care if I sang it or someone else did.
Thats how desperate I was.
Yet in the midst of my desperation, I also saw that others were more desperate than me.
Which is where this story begins.
A week before Christmas, I was determined to get into the holiday spirit.
Wasnt easy because my wife was singing the blues about bills we couldnt pay.
We were living in a cramped two-room apartment with our three little ones.
So I caught the bus.
But what the hell.
It was just the sort of encouragement that I needed to keep going.
So today I wasnt bothered by the gray sky.
Last nights tips told me that beyond the gray, the sun was shining.
Besides, cold can be exhilarating.
I got off at Houston Street in the middle of downtown.
The store windows were decorated with wreaths and poinsettias.
I could see my breath in the frosty air.
Already a few flakes had begun to fall.
Everyones expectations were high.
Everyones heart was full.
During the holidays, Leonards was also famous for installing a Santa Claus monorail and an elaborate Toyland department.
When it came to Christmas cheer, Leonards was the spot.
He easily moved around the board, supporting himself with his long, strong arms.
He sang like he meant it.
In fact, he sang like a singer.
He sang in tune.
Sadly, he also seemed to be singing in vain.
I didnt see a single person stop to buy his wares.
And yet that didnt stop his singing.
I sensed that he sang to lift his spirits and stay warm.
He had a broad nose and thick eye- brows.
He wore a black turtleneck sweater with big gaping holes.
His blue jeans, which covered the stumps of his legs, were tattered.
Despite his handicap, he projected a sense of confidence and rugged masculinity.
Was he distraught that no one found the time to stop and inquire about him or his colorful merchandise?
I wanted to stop.
I wanted to ask how he came to be doing what he was doing.
How had he lost his legs?
His deep brown eyes, wet with snow, suggested some story.
But like the others, I did not stop.
I left the man on the rolling wooden board and rushed into the store.
But then I changed my mind.
I thought of the man selling pretty paper.
I wasnt much of a wrapper, but I could figure it out.
This guy deserved a break, and buying his goods seemed like the right thing to do.
After all, it was Christmas.
So with my unwrapped gifts, I left Leonards.
Now the snow was coming down harda rare event in this part of Texas.
The wind was kicking up a storm.
The temperature had dipped down into single digits.
It was hard to see, hard to walk against the howling wind.
Folks were hanging on to light poles and the sides of buildings.
Looking around, I couldnt see my man.
Where had he gone?
Maybe hed moved on.
Battling the wind, I circled all the way around Leonards enormous complex.
I went up and down the block two, three, four times.
Something told me I had to find him.
But by now I was walking through a virtual blizzard.
I couldnt look forever.
Hed probably found shelter in some nearby coffee shop.
Or maybe he actually went inside Leonards to wait out the storm.
But he was nowhere to be found.
I gave up the search.
I was instructed to go to the third-floor gift-wrap department.
Oh, that bum, she said condescendingly.
Hes nothing but a nuisance.
He didnt seem like a bum, I said.
He sounded like a singer.
Busy making bows on the packages containing my daughters dolls, the wrapper didnt respond.
Outside, the weather had worsened.
Still no peddler in sight.
We had a nice Christmas.
Big Bills made the difference.
From PRETTY PAPER: A Christmas Tale by Willie Nelson.
Copyright 2016 by Willie Nelson
