Free The View from Mount Joy by Lorna Landvik

Bulletin,
December
1971:
    Christmas vacation, and the livin’ is easy. Our Roving Reporter merrily roamed the halls, asking a handful of Bulls how they planned to spend two sweet weeks of wintry freedom.

    Leonard Doerr, senior:
“Well, the German club is having their big
Weinachten
party—I’m making apple strudel for it!—and then there’s our big church concerts (come on down, everyone—I’m in the handbell choir) and of course I’ll be writing a lot of my college applications. I’ve got my fingers crossed for Northwestern, but I wouldn’t say no to Oberlin, either!”

    Heywood Jablome, senior:
“I’ll probably spend the holidays with my parole officer.”

    Babs Johnson, junior:
“I’m going skiing with my family in Colorado.”

    Janet Vromann, junior:
“I’m going skiing with Babs’ family in Colorado, ’cause my parents don’t ski. My dad said he tried it once, but he couldn’t stop and he ran into his instructor. Fortunately he was only going down the bunny hill, so he wasn’t going all that fast. Still, fast enough to break his wrist. And fast enough to break the instructor’s tailbone. I hope I don’t break anything of mine or the Johnsons’.”

    Mr. Frank Lutz,
Ole Bull
advisor:
“I’m going get my fireplace going and sit in my favorite chair and read until I’m cross-eyed.”

    Laurie Stein, junior:
“I’m collecting toys for kids who might not get anything for Christmas. It’s kind of funny, ’cause I’m Jewish and we don’t celebrate Christmas, but this is more about Santa Claus than Jesus—no offense to anyone. What I mean is, I do a lot of volunteer work and this is one of the annual projects, and I think it’s neat when a kid who’s not expecting anything under her Christmas tree—if she even
has
a Christmas tree—finds a doll or a sled or something. It’s just kind of a neat thing.”
----

    Despite the fact that I’d be spending time with my own grandmother, whose company didn’t thrill me the way Mrs. Swenson’s company thrilled Kristi, it was a big relief to go back to Granite Creek for Christmas. I didn’t care that the skies held a big surprise clearance sale, dumping its overstock of snow on us for the entire ride and throwing in a bonus of winds that rendered visibility to about two inches; didn’t care that a four-hour drive took us seven; didn’t care that tow trucks and highway patrol cars trolled the highway like vultures, ready to feast upon another inevitable spin-out.
    “I think I aged ten years,” said my mother when we finally pulled into my grandma’s driveway.
    “Well, then I aged twenty,” said my aunt Beth, who had shared driving duties with me. “And she’ll add on another five.” She nodded toward the front door, which Grandma had opened and now stood in front of, arms crossed.
    My mother fixed her lipstick in the visor mirror. “We’re all going to get along this Christmas, remember, Beth?”
    My aunt sighed. “Sure, Carole. Whatever you say. Santy Claus is going to come and the turkey won’t be tough and we’ll all get along.”
    It didn’t take long to see that the magic of Christmas wasn’t about to cast its spell on this house. We had barely sat down in the small living room with our coffee and cookies before Grandma started complaining.
    “My goodness, you said you’d be here by four—I’ve been worried sick about you. Would it have been so hard to call?”
    “Mom, we only stopped once, at the Dutch Girl in Alexandria, but the line to the phone was too long and we figured we’d lose even more time if we waited.”
    “Big café like the Dutch Girl is bound to have more than one phone,” she said with a sniff. “And I was going to have a nice warm dinner waiting for you.”
    “Mom, I told you not to have dinner ready, that we were going to stop at the Dutch Girl.”
    “Well, it’s a good thing that I didn’t, because it would have been ruined.”
    “At least we get to enjoy these delicious cookies and coffee