In this episode, we feature one of our most seasoned storytellers. Derek Hills has been telling stories for many years and worn many hats as an integral part of the Story District community. I could not think of a better story to share during Christmas.
In this episode, we feature one of our most seasoned storytellers. Derek Hills has been telling stories for many years and worn many hats as an integral part of the Story District community. I could not think of a better story to share during Christmas.
Story District's podcast brings you hilarious, heartfelt, and thought-provoking true stories told live on the Story District stage. Host Amy Saidman goes behind the scenes with the storytellers to hear more about what it takes to tell a great story.
In our third season, we bring you I Did It for the Story. All new episodes will feature true stories told live on the Story District stage and insights about storytelling from Host and Story District founding director, Amy Saidman.
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This podcast is produced by Christopher Lee and Amy Saidman.
Music by Graceful Movement
Amy: Welcome to I Did It For The Story. I'm Amy Saidman, and our mission at Story District is to help people like you become great storytellers. In this podcast, you'll hear some of our favorites, true stories told live from the Story District stage.
In this episode, we feature one of our most seasoned storytellers. Derek Hills has been telling stories for many years and he's worn many hats as an integral part of the Story District community. I couldn't think of a better story to share during Christmas.
Derek: Alright, how's everybody doing? Thank you. Thank you very much. So, I'm 10 years old and I roll out of the boys room at school when three girls confront me. And it's a couple days after Thanksgiving, and, uh, their leader, who I may have been, Grace Kane, I don't know, she says, just so you know. There's no such thing as Santa Claus, and they go on to make several good points.
Santa Claus does write an awful lot like my mother, and they definitely use the same wrapping paper. Now I don't know what I did to get selected for this honor of knowledge, but I can tell you this, I'm not going to cop to a bunch of mean girls, even if they are right. So I tell them, you're wrong. Santa is real.
When I go home, I tell my mom what happened and she gives me this big bear hug and she goes, that's right, honey. That's right. Because I believe in the magic of Christmas almost as much as she does. And believing makes mom happy. And I, as the oldest of her five kids, take it as my job to keep her that way.
So I spend my weekend stringing together cranberries and popcorn. I spend my weeknights sticking little cloves into oranges, cause that stuff makes the house look and smell pretty. And when I bring home my report card, it's all E's as far as the eye can see. E stands for excellent, by the way. It's the objective metric that proves that I'm on mom's path that she set for me.
Which is to become the man she wished she married.
Now, judging from mom's complaints, dad is failing at his objective metric, which is to make enough money. Now, he's a mechanic and truck driver, and when it snows, he hitches a plow to his pickup to earn some extra cash. Mom calls this hustling, which I gather is something poor people do, and we're definitely not poor guys.
Some nights, Mom smokes a cigarette and stares out the kitchen window. Your father's never home, she says. And together, in a cloud of smoke, we just shake our heads. I guess you're the man of the house now. I wonder if my parents are going to get divorced. So one night, a couple weeks before Christmas, Dad says, get your coat, we're going to get the Christmas tree.
And I am ecstatic, because Dad usually gets the tree all by himself, but this year, he wants to include me. It's like my favorite part of the holiday. Well, after the presents, okay, but. Um, something's a little off. Because Dad is carrying a tree saw. And as far as I know, all of the trees at the lot are pre cut.
Also, sawing is normally a daytime activity. But, you know, Dad knows what's up, so I get in the car with him and we drive. And we pass familiar landmarks. The stationery store where Mom calls ahead so I can go buy her cigarettes. The pizza joint where Dad and I stop for a quick beer in Shirley Temple after peewee football.
I tell him, I want to play in the NFL. And he goes, whoa, whoa, whoa, son. You gotta be pretty good to play in the NFL. Like, there are only a thousand guys in the league. And frankly, I'm insulted because clearly I'm the fourth best guy on my Pee Wee team and I want to tell him that mom thinks that someday I'm going to be president of the United States people and we know there's only one of those jobs.
But I keep it to myself and just watch the lights ahead change from red to green. So we keep driving in silence until we pull off to the side of this dark two lane road and dad hands me the saw. When we get out of the car, the semi pulls up behind us and illuminates our target. This big, beautiful spruce tree.
And he says, don't worry, this won't take long. Which is good, because I'm pretty sure this is illegal. But the thing is, I know this tree. It's one of three that obscures this municipal drainage ditch. And in summertime, when we come back from the beach, mom always slows down and hushes us kids. And for years, she'd say, you see that guys, that would make a perfect Christmas tree.
But I didn't think anything of it. I mean, she also thinks that rocket ships put holes in the ozone layer. But you know, part of me thinks that maybe she put dad up to this, like this is an ultimatum or something. But that other part of me, the part that believes, thinks maybe the spirit moved my father to grab me and to create some Christmas magic of our own.
So Dad casually walks up to the tree and stands behind it like he's about to take a leak. But I hesitate by the side of the road. He goes, It's okay, I'm gonna get McDonald's for us later. And that makes me relax, cause like, you know, he's thought this through. So I run up after him and I hand him the saw.
And he tells me to hold the trunk on high while he gets underneath to cut. The needles of the tree pierce my jacket and my skin, and I feel like it's a cosmic commentary on what we're doing. The passing car's lights flash on my face, and all I can think about is wondering if we're poor or not. But before I can finish that idea, the tree falls and Dad's dragging it back to the car.
And as we're fixing it to the roof, tying it down, ten, twelve, fifteen cars pass on by. No one stops. No one honks. No one shouts at our malfeasance. We're getting away with it. Later, at McDonald's, Dad says that he's proud of me. When we go home, Dad puts up the tree and strings of lights, because that's the man's job.
And that frees Mom and I to do the women's work of decorating. So we put on my popcorn and cranberry garland. And we hang my great-grandmother's gold and silver ornaments, high and low. And when mom and I sit down on the couch to admire our work, the room is a wash in the scent of fresh pine. She puts her arm around me and pulls me close and starts to sing.
Si then high Holy Night. All is calm, all is bright. And this is what she sings any time of year, when her heart is full of love for her children. But I can't help but think that I'm sitting in Dad's spot, and that maybe there's only so much I can do to make her happy. I look around and I don't see Dad anywhere, and besides, I don't even know what Mom would sing to him if he were.
But I know enough about Santa to understand. But there aren't going to be a lot of tree, uh, presents under the tree this year. So I choose to look at this tree as a symbol of my father's undying love for my mother. It's the greatest Christmas gift I've ever seen. And I just hope that if we all believe enough and can draw faith from that tree, Maybe it'll be enough to save my family.
Thank you.
Amy: Something about this story reminds me of poetry. Derek is so meticulous about the words he uses and the way he puts the piece together rhythmically. There's a cadence to it that gives it that poetic, writerly, And I think it's so beautifully crafted to invite us into his world and to see things through his young eyes.
He somehow captures the bittersweetness of the moment and he finds a way for us to relate to both his youthful hope, while also I feel like I, I'm relating to his mother in the story. Like, I can imagine that this child is so excited about this, the tree, but he's able to paint the picture of a complicated adult relationship.
Like, bringing home that tree must have been so fraught. Like this big gesture must have had a different impact on his mother, but for him, he remembers it so sweetly. And so, so that just juxtaposition I just think is so great and complex and, and thoughtful. He also does a great job of dropping clues throughout the story.
He doesn't just tell everything straight up. He kind of has a, he's just sort of like dropping these breadcrumbs along the way for us to pick up and eventually we connect the dots ourselves and we see how all the pieces come together. So I think that that's another example that he sets, um, for a well told story.
So I hope that Derek's story is getting you to think about your own stories and Story District can help. To see a show, tell a story, take a class, or bring us into your workplace, visit storydistrict. org, follow us on social media, subscribe to this podcast, leave a review, and please tell a friend. Until next time, I'm Amy Saidman, and this is I Did It For The Story.