Comments about this story can be sent to: sohoyank@yahoo.com

Soho

    It was Christmas Eve, midnight, when Starsky rolled the Torino to a stop in front of Venice Place. Starsky and Hutch were given a 12-hour late shift so the married police officers in their unit could spend the holiday with their families. They would be relieved of duty at 12 noon by another pair of single detectives. In return, all the police officers working during Christmas would be given two days of their choosing during the month of January.

   The night was brisk. The temperature dipped down to 50° F with the forecast calling for it to drop another 10 degrees before daybreak.

   A medium sized cooler sat in the rear seat of the Torino which contained what Starsky referred to as his 'survival kit'. Two foot-long over-stuffed sandwiches, a large bag of chips, a pack of Twinkies, chocolate cupcakes and a two-liter bottle of Coke made up this 'survival kit' of his. In addition, a large thermos of hot chocolate was wedged between the front bucket seats. Taking the packed cooler and hot chocolate with him was common practice for when working the graveyard shift since there was very little if any cafes or diners opened during the wee hours. Hutch usually packed nothing more than a small sandwich, a container of orange juice, a few pieces of fruit, and ever since his brief addiction to heroin, a candy bar.

   Starsky gave the horn a few short taps. Moment's later Hutch emerged from his apartment with his small paper bag and climbed into the passenger seat.

   "Ready to roll?" Starsky asked un-enthused.

   "Ready when you are," came the just as enthused reply.

   Starsky logged them both in, and so their long shift began.

   Both men were seemingly lost in their own thoughts as they cruised the nearly empty streets when Starsky sought to break the silence.

   "Doesn't this ever bother you, Hutch?" he asked in exasperation.

   Hutch snapped out of his daydreaming, turned towards his partner and raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't what ever bother me?"

   "Getting stuck working Christmas every year just because we're single. Do you realize this is the fifth straight year we're working this very shift? I feel like I'm being penalized 'cause I ain't married."

   Hutch shrugged. "No, doesn't bother me any. Besides, we're getting two extra days off next month. So what's your beef?"

   Starsky sighed. "My beef is, for once, I'd like Christmas off to celebrate like everyone else. Instead, here we sit for twelve stinkin' hours. By the time we get off at noon, I'll be too tired to enjoy what's left of it."

   "Maybe at one time it would've bothered me, but ever since the real spirit of Christmas got replaced by euphoric sentimentalism and commercialism, I just assume it's another day like all the rest."

   Starsky threw up his hands in disgust and let them fall into his lap. "What's with you and this euphoric sentimentalism bullshit, anyway?"

   "Starsky, watch your mouth during Christmas. You can resume cussing on the 26th, but for now cool it, will ya?"

   "Oh, you're right. Sorry." Starsky wanted to ask how Hutch could suddenly be so defensive about cussing on a day he could supposedly care less about, but decided against it.

   "You still haven't answered my question, Hutch."

   "I just did. There is no REAL Christmas these days. Something's been taken out over the years. All it is nowadays is a retailer's feeding frenzy. They have everyone trained to believe the only way to truly celebrate is to dig deep. They all have some big guy in a red Santa suit on TV, ringing bells, and telling you if you don't spend gobs and gobs of money on each other, you're some sort of cheap skate or scrooge. They have these people mobbing their stores stuffing their cash registers."

   "Hutch, what they do is increase their stock and drop their prices to make buying these gifts for their loved ones easier. Come on, Hutch, those customers who are flocking to the shops are just in the spirit of the holiday."

   "In the spirit, huh? Like the other day when you dragged me out shopping? Did you forget about that lady who flipped you off when you beat her to the last parking spot anywhere near the shops? Was she in the spirit, too?"

   "Well, I remember how after she had the nerve to 'salute' me, you made me pull out and give it to her anyway. We wound up having to walk three long blocks to get to the stores."

   "Well, you said you were in the spirit of giving. So we gave."

   Starsky just rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. But isn't Christmas the season of giving and celebrating with family and friends? Isn't that the whole idea behind it?"

   "Yes, something like that, but it doesn't have to be so commercialized, nor does it have to be some sort of competition as to who can buy whom the biggest and most expensive gift."

   "Oh, I suppose having a tree planted in my name is the way to go. Huh?"

   "What does it matter? As soon as it gets big enough, someone will chop it down and sell it as a chair anyway. And I wouldn't be surprised if you were the one to run out and buy it."

   "My tree, my chair," Starsky defended. Hutch rolled his eyes.

   They drove in silence for several minutes. It was obvious neither one was willing to budge from his point of view. Finally, exasperated by Hutch's lack of interest in what was supposed to be the most sacred of all Christian holidays, Starsky pulled the car over to the curb, shut the engine down and turned his full attention to Hutch.

   "Okay, teach me a lesson, Hutch." Starsky blurted out sarcastically. "I want you to tell me what we're supposed to do, and how we're supposed to celebrate Christmas." It sounded more like a challenge than a request.

   Hutch turned his body towards Starsky with a look that said he was ready to take on that challenge. "Okay. You want to know? You really want to know?"

   "Yea, I do 'cause it seems in your eyes, I don't have a damn clue."

   "Starsky!"

   "Oh, sorry." Starsky shook his head. "So, tell me."

   "I'll do better than tell you. I'll show you."

   Hutch opened the passenger door and climbed out. Next he flipped forward the seat, reached into the back, pulled Starsky's cooler out and sat it on the roof of the car.

   "Ay, Hutch! Whaddya doin'? That's my dinner!"

   Hutch poked his head back in the car. "I'm showing you the real meaning of Christmas." He quickly snatched the thermos from between the seats and slammed the car door.

   "Ay, come on, Hutch! Not my hot chocolate! It's cold out here, ya know."

    Hutch placed the thermos on the cooler then slid it off the roof and began carrying them across the street.

   "Hey, I was gonna share that stuff with you, ya know."

   Hutch ignored Starsky's final desperate attempt to get his dinner back.

   Starsky watched, none too pleased, as Hutch continued across the empty four-lane avenue with his goods.

   On the corner stood an old man rummaging through a garbage container seeking out scraps of food. He was dressed in dirty ragged clothing, the warmest article being a thin coat riddled with holes. One sleeve was attached at the shoulder by just a few threads. It was hardly enough to keep warm on this chilled night. The vagrant looked up to see Hutch quickly approaching with his armload of goods. He immediately straightened up and slowly began backing away, afraid of what the stranger's motives might be.

   Hutch called out to him. "There's no need to be afraid, sir. I'm a police officer. I mean no harm." Hutch sat the cooler and thermos on the sidewalk and pulled out his badge. "See, I'm a cop."

   The cowering man just stared up at him for long moments as if trying to decide whether or not to trust him. He finally approached, took Hutch's badge and brought it right up to his eyes to examine it. Convinced Hutch was who he said he was, the old man returned it to him.

   "Am I in some sort of trouble, Officer? I wasn't doing nuthin' wrong. I was just looking for something to eat."

   Hutch smiled softly. "No, sir, you're not in any trouble." Hutch gestured across the street towards the Torino. Starsky was now out of the car, walking angrily in his direction determined to retrieve his 'survival kit'.

   Hutch ignored his man-on-a-mission look, and turned back to the old gentleman. "My partner and I noticed you as we were patrolling the area and just thought you could perhaps use these items." Hutch crouched down next to the cooler and pulled the top off, revealing its contents.

   The old man's eyes widened at the large array of food. He couldn't remember ever having that much food at one time. Hutch covered the cooler, then picked up the thermos and handed it to the vagrant. By then, Starsky was standing behind his partner, watching the scene continue to unfold. "Hot chocolate to chase away the night chill," Hutch explained.

   The old man's face lit up with intense gratitude as he grasped the thermos with both dirty hands and held it protectively close to his body.

   "Oh, God bless you, sir! Bless the both of you! My companion Robert and I haven't eaten much of anything in two days! You have no idea what this will mean for us!"

   Starsky and Hutch looked towards the edge of the nearby alley where the old man was pointing. There, an old cardboard refrigerator box lay on its side with a pair of feet protruding from the opening. Hutch hadn't noticed the second vagrant before that moment.

   "Don't mention it, sir. You and your friend Robert take care of yourselves. Try to get out of the cold tonight. The temperature is supposed to dip a few more notches."

   "Yes, sir. And thank you so much again. You and your partner." The old man held out one hand while still securing the thermos in with the other. Hutch grasped it and shook it. The old man scooped up the rest of his treasures and made his way towards the alley.

   By this point, Starsky's anger melted away. He just gleamed at Hutch like a proud papa. He took him by the upper arm and tugged at him. "Come on, ya big lug. Let's get goin'. The criminal elements are waiting.

   Starsky had his arm around Hutch's shoulder pulling him close as they walked back towards the car. When they were both seated in the Torino again, Hutch twisted himself towards Starsky.

   "That's the part of Christmas most people seemed to have forgotten about. Giving to those who truly need it. You see, growing up, we always had these elaborate Christmas celebrations every year. They were really something. There was a great big tree in the living room, loaded with ornaments and lights. Tons of presents crowded underneath it all the time. On Christmas Day, we would all go to Mass, then Mom would make the most fabulous dinner with all the trimmings. Friends and family would crowd the house, laughing, exchanging gifts and singing carols.

   "Those were magnificent times, but do you know what I remember most of all? Dad would make my sisters and I go out and, using our own allowances, buy a special gift. Then, on Christmas Eve night, he'd take us to the homeless shelter for us to give these gifts to the children there. Of course Dad had a bag full of his own to give. Starsk, most of those people were so alone and had nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Many were so sickly looking. It was a pathetic sight, but I'll never forget how their eyes would light up in total elation when we would hand them their gifts. Much like that old man's eyes did. You saw them."

   Starsky smiled. "Yeah. You'da though he was getting a million dollars."

   "To him, it may as well be." Hutch continued his story. "Starsk, do you know what going to that homeless shelter did for me? To this day it makes me appreciate the things we all take for granted every day. Like waking up in the morning in my own safe and warm bed with a roof over my head, being able to go to work everyday, not having to worry about where my next meal is coming from, and being able to draw air into my lungs. Most of all, I appreciate the special people in my life. That, Starsky, is what the true spirit of gift giving is about. Not a tie, or a shirt...but something that'll truly lift somebody's spirits up high."

   Starsky was staring out into space, slowly nodding his head. He took in a deep breath. "What you just done reminded me of a Christmas year while growing up in New York. We never did have a whole lot of money, especially after Dad died. Ma worked as a seamstress in the garment district. Those places operated twenty four hours a day, three hundred and sixty five days a year. It paid just enough to pay the bills and put food on the table. There was very little left for much else. Anyway, being Jewish, Ma always offered to work double shifts on all the Christian holidays in exchange for the Jewish ones off. She would say the extra pay was a needed anyway. She was right too, we did need the money.

   "Christmas was tough for me. Most of the immigrants and their families were Christians, mainly Catholics. There were very few other Jewish families around the neighborhood, so my brother Nicky and I would usually sit home by ourselves watching the other families going off to church together. They would be laughing and singing all sorts of Christmas carols as they walked by. Afterwards the streets would be empty for the rest of the day while they celebrated. The following day, the kids would come outside with their shiny new bikes, wagons and nifty new clothes. I knew the true meaning of being on the outside, looking in.

   "Well there was this one Christmas, I guess I had to be about twelve, and Nicky was ten. There had to be almost a full foot of snow on the ground." Starsky smiled. "I used to love playing around in the snow." His smile faded. "But being Christmas, the streets were depressing. Nicky and I were sitting at home, alone again, trying, not too successfully, to entertain ourselves when there was this knock on the door. I opened the door, but nobody was there. Instead a brand new sled sat on the door step." Starsky grinned. "You know, the Red Flyer?"

   Hutch smiled and nodded but said nothing. Starsky continued.

   "It was carefully wrapped in green and gold ribbon with a big red bow sitting in the middle. I remember my heart swelled so big, I could hardly remember to breathe. There was a card with it that read 'May God bless you on this day'. No signature. I'll never forget that day or that sled. Nicky and I rode the daylights out of it until our fingers and toes were frozen. Every time it snowed we rode it hard." Starsky laughed at the memory.

   "By the time I moved out here a few years later, I don't think there was very much left of it. I think it's still somewhere around in Ma's basement but no longer in very good condition. That look in that old man's eyes when you gave him that cooler and thermos, reminded me very much of how I felt that day back in New York. I never knew who gave me and Nicky that sled, but I always thought who ever did had to have been someone real special."

   Starsky sighed as he brought his thoughts back into the present day. He turned and looked into Hutch's sea-blue eyes. "You know something, buddy?"

   "What's that?"

   Starsky reached up and laced his fingers in the hair on the back of Hutch's head. "You're someone real special too."

   Hutch blushed. "You're just as special, partner."

   Starsky continued staring into Hutch's eyes and kept his hand intertwined in his hair for a while longer. His gaze suddenly turned into a grimace, as he raised his eyebrows in question. "Well, you big mush ball, now what am I suppose to eat for dinner?"

   Hutch looked at his watch. "Well it’s 3 am and the streets are fairly quiet. What do you say we log out for dinner and ride back to my place? We can finish off that pizza you left in my fridge last night. I believe there's also some garlic bread left to go along with it."

   Starsky's grimace turned into an excited smile. "I'm all over it." He started the car, revved the engine, then squealed the tires as he made a quick u-turn. He logged them out for dinner as they zipped down the road towards Venice Place.

   "You know what, Hutch?"

   "What's that?"

   "The next person I see on the street, I'm gonna give them your dinner."

THE END