The Christmas Flute

Written by William Scott Francis

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It was to be a very special Christmas for John and June Adamson this year. They were driving up from Los Angeles to Denver to see June's family for the holidays, something they had not done in many years. John's family was from Santa Barbara, and they always went there for Christmas because John's job made it difficult for them to take an extended time off over the busy holiday rsh. He was an air traffic controller at LAX.

They were filled with excitement at the prospect of experiencing a real Christmas this year, as Denver had already been hit with a couple large snow storms, and there was plenty of snow on the ground. Christmas in Los Angeles never quite seemed right to them, especially June, who grew up in Denver, to know what those kinds of Christmases were like. Christmas in Santa Barbara never really made it for her, even though she loved John's family very much.

But this time, namely due to June's insistance, John had arranged to take this time off a whole year in advance, shortly after Christmas of the previous year. And it seemed nothing was going to stand in the way of this time, and that, despite that it was the end of the millenium, and needing the extra help because of Y2K fears. He was glad to he would not be working during this time. Because they so seldom got a chance to really get away from hussle and bussle of Los Angeles, they decided to make a grand time of it, leaving a whole week before Christmas to make a couple side trips along the way.

So they loaded up their motor home to make a grand time of it. They drove up to Denver via through Las Vegas, stopping there for a couple days to drop some quarters in slot machines, to see some of the famous attractions there, like the volcano in front of the Mirage, the 'sea' battle between a couple old sailing ships at the Treasure Island casino, and the Star Trek attraction at the Hilton. They also were going to take in one of the most expensive shows in Las Vegas, Cirque de Soliel. They made a grand time of it, having dinner at a nice restaurant at the Luxor first. Las Vegas had changed a lot since the last time they were there, about ten years ago.

Their plan next was to drive across southern Utah up through Moab to Denver via I-70, stopping along the way to do a little side trip to see a place John was always curious about. Weather permitting, they would take their motorhome up into an area of southern Utah called the Valley of the Gods. It was about fifteen miles back from the main highway on what the map indicated was a dirt road. Being fairly straight most of the way, they figured it was be an easy road for their motorhome, but if they found they could not do it, they would just turn back.

They listened to the weather forecast in Vegas before leaving, and there was a storm coming down from the northwest that would might bring some snow to the area. It was only a fifty percent possibility, so they decided they would see how safe the road looked to them before proceeding into the back area. It was party cloudy, and cool, as they drove along highway 163 past Kanab, Utah and Page, Arizona. They stopped along the way to take some pictures at Monument Valley.

They made a turnoff on highway 261, and went north a short ways to the dirt road turnoff that would take them back to the Valley of the Gods. The map showed the road curved southeastward again back at the valley, and headed back down to 163, so they should not have to double back at all. The dirt road was pretty smooth and passable, looking to go off pretty level across the open desert after passing a few homes to the Valley of the Gods that they could see off in the distance. It looked interesting, with several redrock mesas that would provide them a chance to do a little bit of hiking. It did not seem to be a big tourist draw, and they saw no other cars on their drive back to it, nor was there anyone there when they finally got back to it. They were completely alone!

****

They looked around for a place to set up camp. There was a hill they had to go up leaving the area to the east, and they thought if they got to the top of it, it would provide them with a nice view. But the motor home making it up the hill, and they decided not to bother with it. They may need to go out the way they came.

They felt very fortunate to have such a wonderful place all to themselves, and they did not think they would see anyone else during their brief visit there. They planned to spend a couple days there before heading on up to Denver. They decided on a place right near one of the smaller rock formations where they had found a fire ring . They pulled their motorhome up next to it.

After the craziness of Las Vegas, to stop the motor home, and step out of it into complete and utter silence was something almost very unusual to them. It was very quiet back there. Not even a wind blew. In fact, it was too quiet. June was the first to notice it.

"John", she said slowly. "Something isn't right here. I got a funny feeling about this place. It's feeling erie to me."

"What? This is a beautiful place, and we have it all to ourselves!"

"No, I'm serious. It is lovely, but it's the stillness here. Don't you feel it? I don't think we should camp here. I feel like we are violating something, like we're sitting on some sacred Indian ground."

John stopped and looked around, surveying the land, and listening. After a while he found himself noticing it, as well. "You're right. There is a funny feeling here. Maybe we better find another place. Let's walk up the hill, and see what's beyond it."

"Do you think we can get up it? It was having a hard time making it."

"It's only one small hill. I'd hate for that to stop us. I'd like to drive all the way through."

They held hands and walked up the small hill, and sure enough, they could see the road continued on fairly level just as they came in. It was only this one small hill that would impede them. It also looked that if they drove on a ways, they could find a place that would seem safer to them, yet afford them a wonderful view of the valley.

Looking back down the hill, John thought that for such a little hill to stop them, it was a little ridiculous. He looked for a solution. "This road is a little wider right here. I think if we took our time, we might be able to kind of zig-zag back and forth a little, just to get past this hill. Want to give it a try?"

"Think that would work? If it would mean not camping here, yes, let's try it."

"If it doesn't, we'll go out the way we came. But I think we might find a nicer place to camp out that way if we can just get over this hill."

*****

They walked back down the hill to the motorhome, and got in. They started up the hill until the motorhome started to groan. Then John veered as far as he could over to the let side of the road, and then turned sharply the opposite way. His thinking was that by zig-zagging up the hill, like hiking switchbacks on moutain, it woud be easier for the motorhome. It was tedious, but it seemed to work--initially, that is. They reached a place on the hill that was at a sharper angle than the rest, and it was making June nervous. John was backing up again, and he rolled over a sucken rock that tilted the motor home a little more.

"Stop, John!", she yelled suddenly.

John immediately stepped on the brake. "What? It was only a little rock. I saw it in the mirror. It's maybe just poking up about four inches."

"I don't like this. Let's just go back."

"June, we're just about there. Another five, and we'll be on our way. Relax. It'll be okay." With that, he lifted his foot off the brake, and pressed the accelerator. The motor home started backward. He forgot to switch to drive. He stepped back on the brake again as quick as he could, but not before the driver-side rear wheel rolled off the side of the road. There was a sound of the frame hitting the ground. John slammed the motorhome into park, and jumped out. Going to the back, he found the rear wheel spinning freely in the air. June came around momentarily. John swore under his breath, and breathed heavily.

"Now what do we do?"

"I don't know. I don't think we'll be able to push it up. There's not anything here to push against except soft sand. I could jake it up, but at this angle, I'm afraid the motorhome would slide off. At least we can stay in the motorhome. It'll be okay the way it is, but the angle will make it a little weird."

"What about walking to get help?"

John thought for a minute. "It's too late in the day to now. Mexican Hat is the nearest town, and that's about thirteen miles away. The sun will be down in about two hours. We better wait until at least tomorrow. Tomorrow is the 23rd. I'm sure we'll be able to get a tow truck to pull us up. We might get into Denver real late, but we'd be there Christmas eve still. It looks the weather will be okay. Let's do that. Let's just wait til tomorrow. We'll be okay. We can just enjoy our time now.

"Okay, hon. I'll...try...to make us some dinner. I don't think it will be too bad cooking in the motorhome.

"That sounds good. I'm getting hungry."

*****

They went to bed early that night, John figuring that he would have to spend a considerable amount of the day walking back to the main road. He was counting on being able to hitch a ride into Mexican Hat once he got to it. They had to sleep at the opposite end of the bed on account of the angle the motorhome was sitting. But once they got settled down, they slept very soundly.

In the morning, however, both of them woke up suddenly, feeling the whole motorhome shaking. Their initial reaction was of panic, fearing the motorhome was sliding further somehow. They realized, however, that it was only the wide shaking it.

It was some wind, though! A front was moving through, and the winds were kicking up at about sixty miles an hour. John slide open the curtain to the window a little and peered outside. "Wow!", he exclaimed. June pulled up close to him so she could see to. "Ohmygosh", she said. It was still dark, but it was light enough to know that a winter storm had blown in, and it was coming down hard. "I can't believe it's doing that out here. Not down here! Where did this storm come from?", John said.

John's heart sank. He did not cherish the thought of having to walk back to the main road during a snow storm. He thought, though, that it just couldn't snow that much--not here, so close to Monument Valley! He looked at his watch, the hands of it still visible with the help of the light outside. It was five thirty. Surely this couldn't go on for much more. Maybe it would snow for just a little while, then quit. Right now, there wasn't much he could do, except to wait. He knew he couldn't go walking thirteen miles in this. He fixed the curtain so he could watch the snow, and just laid their gazing out the window in awe.

They eventually fell back asleep, but woke up a couple hours later only to see it still snowing outside. There was a good layer of snow out there, maybe three or four inches now. It was not snowing as heavily now. It was a very fine snow, but it was still very windy. John got up and turned the radio on to see what he could hear anything about the weather, and how long this was to last. He pressed "Scan", and the radio proceeded to stop at several places, but all where very weak stations that consisted of more static than station. He could make out voices and music, but couldn't understand much.

Finally, the radio stopped at a station he could actually hear something on. He quickly stopped the radio from scanning further. A mexican band was playing, singing in Spanish, a bright, cheery song that did not exactly go with what he was seeing before him outside. He prayed that the announcer would not be speaking Spanish when it was over.

"That was Los Hermanos singing "De Colores". He breathed a sigh of relief, and sat and listened. June climbed down the short ladder and came up behind the driver's seat where John was sitting. They listened intently for awhile, and finally the announcer gave the weather report.

"The snow is likely to continue for the rest of day. There's four inches on the ground now, and we'll probably get a couple more before it's through. Winds will be gusting up fifty miles an hour. This is one of those once in a century storms. We haven't had this much snow on the ground here since 1905."

"Well, that's great! We just had to had to come out here and have the worst storm of the century fall on us! Well, there's not much we can do now--except wait."

They fixed themselves a hot breakfast together, and sat at the table, eating silently as they watched the storm. At least they had food with them to eat. John took a sip of his coffee, then folded his arms together.

He laid his head down upon them, gazing out the window some more.

The clouds hung down low over the red rock mesas. It looked cold out. "I can't believe this", he said. "I wish we hadn't just gone to bed last night. Maybe we could have figured a way, maybe by stuffing a lot of rocks under it"

"It wouldn't do much good now. All we can do is wait for it to stop. You only have penny loafers with you. You certainly can't go walking out in this snow for that long in those."

"I might have to when it stops." His voice wandered off to silence.

*****

June got up and opened the closet door where they stored all the presents they had bought, for each other, and her family, and pulled out a long, narrow boxed present. She handed it to John. "I think you should open this present", she told him.

"Oh? Okay. I guess we might as well pass the time away here. There's not much else we can do right now." John tore at the wrapping to find just a plain brown box. He opened on end, and tilted it at an angle. A Native American flute slide out. He let out a little "Ooooo!" It was a very beautiful flute, made out of cedar. It had the figure of a bear on the top, held on by a dark leather tie that ended in several strands with colored beads at the end. It was a very beautiful flute, have a couple bands of carved designed that the end. Bear tracks were also burned into the wood along the sides. He looked inside the box to see if there was anything else, and found a small instruction booklet, and a separate sheet of paper with a lot of little diagrams on it.

John played the flute for the marching band back in high school. He had not played since, but he could read music. Looking at the song sheet, he quickly figured out the diagrams showed him exactly how to play the song on his flute, showing him which holes to cover and leave open. All he had to do was follow the pattern. The song was titled at the top with just "Hopi Prayer Song"

"I thought it was be good way for you to spend the time, since we can't do much else right now. The book should make it easy for you to learn, and then you can learn the song."

"Thank you! Where did you get it?"

"There was a little art show in Covina I stopped at one day, and this old Native American man was selling them. I overheard him telling someone they were easy to learn, and when I heard him play it, I thought it would be good for you to have, to calm you down after work. He said it was very good for that. I fell in love with the one he was playing. He also said the prayer song was very special. It was really weird, though."

"How so?"

"Well, I paid for it by check, and as I walked away, he said 'I hope John likes it.' At first, I thought maybe he just got the name off the check, until I realized it only has your initial on it, not your full name." She said more softly, "How would he have known your name was John? And how did he know I was buying it for you?"

"I don't know." He put the flute up to his lips, and blew. It took him a few tries, but then got the hang of it, and he loved the sound of it.

He played with it for a little while, then put it down to help June clean and put all the dishes away. Then he took the flute to the back of the motorhome, where he made himself comfortable on a cushioned bench where he could stretch out. He lay there, learning to play his flute. It did not take him long to figure out how to play it. It was a good way to pass the day. John let Joan open one of his, a colorful book by an Native American named Gwani Pony Boy, "Follow Horse Closely". She liked horses. It was a very interesting book, and would give her something to do for the day, as well.

Later, going back to the cushioned area, and resting the prayer song against raised legs, he began learning the prayer song. He played it over and over again. By this time, the wind had died, but it was still snowing fine snow flakes out. Joan came over and sat by him, listening, and looking at her book some more. "It's a beautiful song.", she said.

He played that song for a long while, trying to master it. Eventually, however, John's hands dropped to his chest, still loosely holding his flute, and he fell asleep in the quietness of the storm.

*****

John slept for a couple hours before he woke again. He looked for June, but she was not in the motorhome. He got up and looked out the windows. The storm had stopped now, and it was getting dark out. Then he noticed a glow from outside one of the front windows. He went up and looked out. There was June. The glow, however, was from something that surprised him. June had decorated a pinion pine tree that was near them, complete with lights! He went over to the doorway, and opened it.

"Hey!", he said.

"Oh, hi, hon! I was wondering when you would wake up! Like my Christmas tree?"

"It's beautiful!", he told her, coming out to look at it more closely. It was a funky Christmas tree, but it had a charm about itself, and was a warm sight to behold, being stuck out out in the desert as they were. June had gotten inventive. She hung still filled food cans and tools as ornaments. She took some white rope they had and draped it about the tree. They had gotten her parents a string of red chili pepper lights for a present, but she had opened it, deciding to use them on her little tree instead. She had them plugged into cigarette lighter, via a small emergency battery pack they had. The tree was topped off with the crosshair lug nut wrench.

"I kinda got in the Christmas spirit", she said a bit sheepishly.

"You did a good job!" John looked about. It was getting dark, but it stopped snowing.

The lights didn't take much power, but they would start up the motorhome every now and then to make sure it would start. They sat on the folding steps to the motorhome, and looked at the tree, June sitting on the bottom step, with John on the top, his arms wrapped around her to keep her warm.

"I had a weird dream while I slept", he said.

"What was it about"?"

"I dreamt that I out on this frozen lake, in the woods, and that I had fallen through the ice! That almost should have woken me, cause I remember feeling the shock of it, and the cold water. I struggled trying to get out...and then...this bear came along...right out on the ice...dragging a long branch with it. It went kind of around me, so the branch would pass by me, almost as if it was trying to save me...and I just grabbed ahold of the branch. The bear pulled me out. It saved my life. Then it came over to me, and I hugged it. I was so cold, too, that for a while, it just let me. Then I climbed up on it's back, and carried me away. That's all I remember of it before I woke up."

"Wow, that's some dream! Maybe a big bear will come along and carry us out of here!"

*****

John and June stayed up for awhile to look at the tree. It was Christmas Eve. It had gotten dark. The storm had ended finally, and the clouds started breaking up. The stars poked out between them above. The snow on the ground seemed to glow in the night somehow, and they could make out the shapes of the mesa from the snow that had fallen on them. It was beautiful. June started to sing. "Si-lent night, ho-ly night. All is calm. All is bright...". John joined her.

Together, they sat there, and sang other carols, out there in desert, alone. Their disappointment and worry about the storm was replaced by a holiday warmth they did not think they would be experiencing this night. John got up and bought his flute out, and played, as well. The sound of it seemed to drift far off over the desert. It almost seemed a pity no one else was there to enjoy it, but they certainly didn't mind that there wasn't. They were enjoying it so much, they almost forgot about having to get to Denver.

Eventually, however, it did start getting cold, and they finally turned the lights off and went in for the night.

By the next morning, Christmas morning, the sky was mostly clear, and the sun rose over snow-covered mountains far off in the east. The light shown through the windows brightly, waking John and June. "Well, maybe some of this snow will melt today."

"Yes, but who's going to be open in Mexican Hat today, on Christmas?"

"Hmmm, yes. I guess we'll be out here another day. I wonder if your folks are worried about us?"

"I would imagine so! We'll have to call them as soon as we can."

They made themselves some breakfast, and later on, when out and took a hike to see more of this place that they came here to see. They did not really have the shoes for it, but they did it anyway. The new-fallen snow seemed to remove the strange feeling they felt there initially. The sun warmed the red rock mesas, and they loved seeing the contrasting colors of the snow up on them, and the deep blue sky. It was very quiet. The snow started melting into the desert sands and later in the day, they were seeing little streams of water coming down cracks between the redrock they passed.

As they hiked, they noticed a sound, far off in the distance, of a truck. Walking up through the snow to a place where they could see a little better, they could see a truck approaching, lumbering it's way over the snow-covered road from the other side of the hill. They headed back to the motorhome and waited inside.

About ten minutes after they got back, a large old faded green Ford truck pulled up, one of the old tanks, with large rounded fenders and real chrome grill, spotted, however, with rust. There were two people in the truck, and they opened the doors, and got out. The driver was a heavyset Native American girl with long black hair. She wore a brown leather coat with fringe and colored beads. The picture of a dream-catcher was embroidered into the fabric on the left side, with four feathers hanging from it. Another Native American was with her, an older man, wearing a old and worn demin coat. John stepped out of the motorhome first.

"Is your name John?", the old man asked.

"Yes...but how did you know?"

Just then, June stepped out. "You!", Joan exclaimed!

"You know this man?", John asked, looking back at her.

"Yes! He's the one I bought your flute from!"

"I am Keeto Begay. This is my wife, Annie. We have a house...on the other side of that hill over there", he said, pointing to it, off to the east in the distance. "This morning, when I was outside, I noticed something shining brightly. I have a little spotting scope, and saw the shining metal star."

"The shining metal star? What do you mean?"

He looked at the tree. "That", he said, pointing to the lug nut wrench on the top of the tree.

"It must of been reflecting the light from the morning sun", John mused.

"I had a dream about a shining metal star after I made the flute I sold...her...while I was at a show in Los Angeles", he explained, pointing to June. "I heard the name John in it. I knew that is who the flute had to be for. When she bought it, I looked at the check, saw the 'J." next to the rest of your name, and knew you must have been the one the flute was meant to be for."

"I was wondering how you knew his name! Now I know!"

"It looks like you two could use some help", Keeto said, looking at the motorhome.

"Yes, we could. We have a tow rope. Do you think your truck can pull us up?"

"Aw, sure!", Keeto said confidently. "This truck is old, but it's still strong...like me!"

John went and got the tow rope, and tied it to the motorhome, while Keeto tied it to his truck. They all got in their vehicles, and the old truck started slowly, but pulled out the massive motorhome amazingly easily.

But as Keeto pulled them up the rest of the hill, John noticed the license plates on the old truck. "SISTR BR"

Once freed, Keeto invited John and June to follow them to their house, to visit a while with their new friends, which they did gladly. "Uh, Keeto. Can I ask you about your license plates?"

"Aaah! This truck is Annie's, not mine. Sister Bear. People call her that as a bit of a nickname. She's always wanting to help people. John thought back to his dream.

At Keeto's house, Annie made them fry bread, while John played the prayer song for Keeto. Keeto showed them some of his other flutes, and played several for him.

At length, it was time for John and June to leave. John asked if they had a phone, but they did not. They decided they would go down to Mexican Hat to call June's parents. Before leaving, however, June went into the motorhome, and came back carrying something. It was the Gwani Pony book. "This was a present to me from John, but I want you to have it." The old man opened the book and browsed through it, seeing the pictures of Gwani Pony Boy, and his horse, in their traditional attire. Keeto smiled broadly.

With that, John and June said farewell to their new friends with warm hugs, and drove off to finish their trip. They would be late getting to Denver for Christmas, but for all the trouble, they did not mind it all. It was the best Christmas they ever had....