Hail to the Dinosaurs!
Here's Part 3 of The Dinosaur Christmas
Story for 2015:
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-3.html
I hope you enjoy it!
In other Dino news, I'll send an email
later in the day with another of our
annual traditions -- the Dinosaur Version
of The Night Before Christmas. That's
always a lot of fun.
We're open for business, and our Kindle
e-books and digital delivery products
will make it anywhere in the world in time
for Christmas. The December and January
issues of The Dinosaur Files would make
great gifts if you're doing any last minute
shopping -- or if you just feel like giving
yourself something great to read.
Go here to grab your copy of the January
Dinosaur Files:
http://www.brookskubik.com/dinosaurfiles_januaryr2016.html
And here's the link for the December issue:
http://www.brookskubik.com/dinosaurfiles_december2015.html
Here's the link to the products page, where
you can find everything else:
http://www.brookskubik.com/products.html
If you have any questions, shoot me an
email.
Otherwise, Merry Christmas -- and best
wishes for strength and health in 2016!
Yours in strength,
Brooks Kubik
***********************************************************************************
Showing posts with label the strongman's christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the strongman's christmas. Show all posts
The Strongman's Christmas (Part 3)
Hail to the Dinosaurs!
This is part 3 of our 2015 Christmas Story. If you missed part1 1 and 2, go here to see them:
Part 1
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-1.html
Part 2
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-2.html
I also want to give you a heads up about another Christmas treat for the Dino Nation. On Physical Culture Radio yesterday, I read a six-part Dinosaur Christmas story that I wrote in 2011. It took the entire hour to finish the story, but it turned out great and it will be a real treat for everyone. I'll share the link as soon as I have it from my co-host, Carl Lanore.
And on a related note, be looking for the Dinosaur version of The Night Before Christmas. I'll share it later today.
Finally, if you're looking for a late Christmas present, we have 15 Dinosaur Training e-books available on Kindle, as well as several courses and the December and January issues of The Dinosaur Files newsletter available with digital delivery. You can find links to all of them right here on our products page; we have a special section with links to the Kindle e-books and another special section with links to our digital delivery products:
http://www.brookskubik.com/products.html
Merry Christmas, everyone -- Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Yours in strength,
Brooks Kubik
The Strongman's Christmas, Part 3
It was the strongman's last performance before Christmas, and it may have been his best of the year.
He lifted enormous, thick-handled barbells, stupendous dumbbells and massive kettle-bells.
He juggled 56-pound block weights.
Then he juggled his kettlebells.
And then he juggled two cannonballs.
He asked one of the stagehands to come onto the stage – a man weighing perhaps 140 or 150 pounds – and used the man to perform the Manual of Arms as easily as if he were holding an 8-pound rifle.
He broke chains with his bare hands – and snapped others by having them wrapped around his chest, and then breathing fast and deep, filling his lungs, and flexing every muscle in his upper body. The links of broken chain went flying across the stage and into the audience.
He twisted metal bars and horseshoes as if they were made of rubber.
Ten men from the audience came on stage, and he beat all ten of them at the same time in a tug of war.
He lifted 500 pounds with one finger.
He performed a back-lift with a specially constructed stage while 20 men from the audience stood on it.
The crowd loved it. They clapped and cheered louder and louder with each successive feat of strength.
But like any good showman, he saved the best for the last, ending his performance with a truly titanic feat of strength.
It began when six burly stagehands rolled an enormous globe barbell onto the stage. It lay in the center of the stage, huge, hulking, massive and menacing.
The strongman invited two men from the audience to step on stage and try to lift the bell. Two husky heroes accepted the invitation – and failed to budge it.
The strongman challenged four men to attempt to lift the barbell.
Two more men stepped onto the stage and cautiously approached the barbell.
One man bent down and wrapped his arms as far as possible around one of the globes.
The other man did the same.
The first two men grabbed the thick handled bar. Their hands could barely wrap around it.
“On the count of three!” said the strongman.
The men nodded and tightened their grips.
“One!”
The men gripped harder than ever.
“Two!”
The men barely dared to breathe.
“THREE!”
The four men heaved with all their might – but nothing happened.
For several long, agonizing seconds they pulled and strained – and then the man holding the left globe suddenly lost his grip and fell backwards – and then the man holding the other globe did the same – and then one of the men pulling against the bar fell forward – and the other man let go, stood up, and backed away, shaking his head.
“It’s impossible,” he said. “No man could lift this!”
“Stand aside – out of the way!”
The strongman approached the bar. With quick, sure, practiced movements, he reached down, levered it up on end, slipped his right hand under the center of the bar and dipped under it.
The audience gasped as the huge barbell rose up as if by magic.
The strongman smiled as the bar balanced on his shoulder.
He turned slightly, and began to lower his body, twisting himself under the barbell.
He finished in a deep squat, holding the massive weight overhead with one hand.
And then he stood up.
He finished the lift with the bar overhead – and smiled at the audience as he held it motionless.
And then, for good measure, he squatted down again, picked up a heavy kettlebell, rocked it to his other shoulder, stood up and pressed it overhead.
The crowd went wild.
Back in his dressing room, he showered, and changed back into his street clothes.
He had just finished tying his tie when he heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened, and a well-dressed man stepped inside. He was middle-aged, with short, silver-gray hair, but he stood tall and straight, and moved with the grace of an athlete.
He held an engraved calling card in his hand, and passed it to the strongman, who glanced at it curiously.
His eyes opened in surprise and he read the card a second time.
“Let me come straight to the point,” said the stranger. “That was a magnificent performance this afternoon. Simply outstanding. You’re the very best strongman in the world – but you’re doing neither yourself nor the world any favors by performing in a place like this. I am prepared to offer you double whatever they’re paying you here – to tour the United States with my circus. I’ll give you a guaranteed one year contract and everything you need to perform your act.”
“Food and drink?”
“As much as you want.”
“I have two brothers – what about them?”
“Are they strong?’
“They’re my brothers. They’re strong.”
“Then I want them, too.”
The strongman nodded.
“There’s one more thing I want," he said.
“Name it.”
“There’s a boy down the street who sells hot roasted chestnuts. He’s an orphan – his parents died of the flu. I want you to hire him as well.”
“To do what?”
“He can sell chestnuts just as well in the circus as on the street corner.”
"They must be a special kind of chestnuts.”
The strongman shook his head.
“No – but he’s special kind of kid,” he said.
The circus owner nodded and extended his hand.
“It’s a deal,” he said.
The strongman reached out and offered his own massive hand.
“Deal,” he said.
As the men shook hands, there was another knock on the door.
"Come in!"
The blonde chorus girl stepped inside.
"Oh -- I'm sorry!" she said. "I didn't know you had company."
The circus owner bowed and smiled.
"Not at all," he said. "A mere business discussion -- and we've concluded it."
He turned back to the strongman.
"I'll have my lawyer draw up a contract and deliver it next week," he said. "And I wish you a merry Christmas!"
He left, leaving the door open.
The chorus girl turned to the strongman.
"I thought you might want to buy some chestnuts," she said. "You know -- from the kid. Just to help him get some food for Christmas."
The strongman shook his head.
"I think we'll take him to dinner instead," he said. "This is a Christmas he'll remember forever."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He told her the news. She clapped her hands for sheer joy, threw herself against his powerful chest, crushed him in a hug and kissed him.
"That's the best Christmas present ever," she cried. "Let's go tell him!"
They stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind them, and then stepped through the big doors at the front of the theater and into the busy street.
The wind blew fiercely as they walked toward the boy at the chestnut stand. It battered the poster on the wall of the theater, a poster that proudly proclaimed: "FOR A LIMITED ENGAGEMENT -- THE STRONGEST MAN IN THE WORLD -- THE STRONGMAN, ARTHUR SAXON!"
This is part 3 of our 2015 Christmas Story. If you missed part1 1 and 2, go here to see them:
Part 1
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-1.html
Part 2
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-2.html
I also want to give you a heads up about another Christmas treat for the Dino Nation. On Physical Culture Radio yesterday, I read a six-part Dinosaur Christmas story that I wrote in 2011. It took the entire hour to finish the story, but it turned out great and it will be a real treat for everyone. I'll share the link as soon as I have it from my co-host, Carl Lanore.
And on a related note, be looking for the Dinosaur version of The Night Before Christmas. I'll share it later today.
Finally, if you're looking for a late Christmas present, we have 15 Dinosaur Training e-books available on Kindle, as well as several courses and the December and January issues of The Dinosaur Files newsletter available with digital delivery. You can find links to all of them right here on our products page; we have a special section with links to the Kindle e-books and another special section with links to our digital delivery products:
http://www.brookskubik.com/products.html
Merry Christmas, everyone -- Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Yours in strength,
Brooks Kubik
The Strongman's Christmas, Part 3
It was the strongman's last performance before Christmas, and it may have been his best of the year.
He lifted enormous, thick-handled barbells, stupendous dumbbells and massive kettle-bells.
He juggled 56-pound block weights.
Then he juggled his kettlebells.
And then he juggled two cannonballs.
He asked one of the stagehands to come onto the stage – a man weighing perhaps 140 or 150 pounds – and used the man to perform the Manual of Arms as easily as if he were holding an 8-pound rifle.
He broke chains with his bare hands – and snapped others by having them wrapped around his chest, and then breathing fast and deep, filling his lungs, and flexing every muscle in his upper body. The links of broken chain went flying across the stage and into the audience.
He twisted metal bars and horseshoes as if they were made of rubber.
Ten men from the audience came on stage, and he beat all ten of them at the same time in a tug of war.
He lifted 500 pounds with one finger.
He performed a back-lift with a specially constructed stage while 20 men from the audience stood on it.
The crowd loved it. They clapped and cheered louder and louder with each successive feat of strength.
But like any good showman, he saved the best for the last, ending his performance with a truly titanic feat of strength.
It began when six burly stagehands rolled an enormous globe barbell onto the stage. It lay in the center of the stage, huge, hulking, massive and menacing.
The strongman invited two men from the audience to step on stage and try to lift the bell. Two husky heroes accepted the invitation – and failed to budge it.
The strongman challenged four men to attempt to lift the barbell.
Two more men stepped onto the stage and cautiously approached the barbell.
One man bent down and wrapped his arms as far as possible around one of the globes.
The other man did the same.
The first two men grabbed the thick handled bar. Their hands could barely wrap around it.
“On the count of three!” said the strongman.
The men nodded and tightened their grips.
“One!”
The men gripped harder than ever.
“Two!”
The men barely dared to breathe.
“THREE!”
The four men heaved with all their might – but nothing happened.
For several long, agonizing seconds they pulled and strained – and then the man holding the left globe suddenly lost his grip and fell backwards – and then the man holding the other globe did the same – and then one of the men pulling against the bar fell forward – and the other man let go, stood up, and backed away, shaking his head.
“It’s impossible,” he said. “No man could lift this!”
“Stand aside – out of the way!”
The strongman approached the bar. With quick, sure, practiced movements, he reached down, levered it up on end, slipped his right hand under the center of the bar and dipped under it.
The audience gasped as the huge barbell rose up as if by magic.
The strongman smiled as the bar balanced on his shoulder.
He turned slightly, and began to lower his body, twisting himself under the barbell.
He finished in a deep squat, holding the massive weight overhead with one hand.
And then he stood up.
He finished the lift with the bar overhead – and smiled at the audience as he held it motionless.
And then, for good measure, he squatted down again, picked up a heavy kettlebell, rocked it to his other shoulder, stood up and pressed it overhead.
The crowd went wild.
Back in his dressing room, he showered, and changed back into his street clothes.
He had just finished tying his tie when he heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened, and a well-dressed man stepped inside. He was middle-aged, with short, silver-gray hair, but he stood tall and straight, and moved with the grace of an athlete.
He held an engraved calling card in his hand, and passed it to the strongman, who glanced at it curiously.
His eyes opened in surprise and he read the card a second time.
“Let me come straight to the point,” said the stranger. “That was a magnificent performance this afternoon. Simply outstanding. You’re the very best strongman in the world – but you’re doing neither yourself nor the world any favors by performing in a place like this. I am prepared to offer you double whatever they’re paying you here – to tour the United States with my circus. I’ll give you a guaranteed one year contract and everything you need to perform your act.”
“Food and drink?”
“As much as you want.”
“I have two brothers – what about them?”
“Are they strong?’
“They’re my brothers. They’re strong.”
“Then I want them, too.”
The strongman nodded.
“There’s one more thing I want," he said.
“Name it.”
“There’s a boy down the street who sells hot roasted chestnuts. He’s an orphan – his parents died of the flu. I want you to hire him as well.”
“To do what?”
“He can sell chestnuts just as well in the circus as on the street corner.”
"They must be a special kind of chestnuts.”
The strongman shook his head.
“No – but he’s special kind of kid,” he said.
The circus owner nodded and extended his hand.
“It’s a deal,” he said.
The strongman reached out and offered his own massive hand.
“Deal,” he said.
As the men shook hands, there was another knock on the door.
"Come in!"
The blonde chorus girl stepped inside.
"Oh -- I'm sorry!" she said. "I didn't know you had company."
The circus owner bowed and smiled.
"Not at all," he said. "A mere business discussion -- and we've concluded it."
He turned back to the strongman.
"I'll have my lawyer draw up a contract and deliver it next week," he said. "And I wish you a merry Christmas!"
He left, leaving the door open.
The chorus girl turned to the strongman.
"I thought you might want to buy some chestnuts," she said. "You know -- from the kid. Just to help him get some food for Christmas."
The strongman shook his head.
"I think we'll take him to dinner instead," he said. "This is a Christmas he'll remember forever."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He told her the news. She clapped her hands for sheer joy, threw herself against his powerful chest, crushed him in a hug and kissed him.
"That's the best Christmas present ever," she cried. "Let's go tell him!"
They stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind them, and then stepped through the big doors at the front of the theater and into the busy street.
The wind blew fiercely as they walked toward the boy at the chestnut stand. It battered the poster on the wall of the theater, a poster that proudly proclaimed: "FOR A LIMITED ENGAGEMENT -- THE STRONGEST MAN IN THE WORLD -- THE STRONGMAN, ARTHUR SAXON!"
The Strongman's Christmas (Part 2)
Hail to the Dinosaurs!
Every year I share a Christmas story with readers. It's an annual tradition here at Dino Headquarters -- along with our Dino Christmas tree, watching "White Christmas" (my dad's favorite Christmas movie), and doing lots of heavy leg and back work out in the garage.
This is part two of this year's Christmas story. I posted part one on Monday -- if you missed it, follow this link and read part 1 first:
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-1.html
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Yours in strength,
Brooks Kubik
The Strongman's Christmas (Part Two)
He got back to the theater early, and went back stage to his small dressing room.
He took off his heavy coat, and hung it on the hook on the wall.
He placed his hat on the dressing table, and laid his thick, warm leather gloves next to it.
There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a high-pitched female voice.
“Are you decent?” the voice asked.
He sighed, and shook his head. Maria always asked that question when she knocked on his door. She always made it sound more than a little hopeful – as if she hoped he was disrobing when she knocked on his door.
“I’m dressed,” he called. “Come in!”
He could have sworn he heard a small sigh of disappointment from behind the door.
The door opened and a chorus girl with blonde curls and nice curves stepped into the dressing room.
“I brought you something,” she said. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“That was kind of you!” he said. “It smells good. What is it?”
“Chestnuts. Hot roasted chestnuts. I bought them from the little boy who runs the stand down the street.”
That caught his attention!
“A short little boy – about so tall?”
He held his hand out, palm down, indicating the boy’s height.
She nodded.
“Pale, white skin – no gloves – wears an old jacket that’s ripped and torn? Old black hat that’s two sizes too big for him?”
She nodded again.
“Do you know him?”
He nodded.
“My hat ran away on a gust of wind earlier today,” he said. “He found it for me. And he wouldn’t accept a penny for helping me – so I bought a bag of chestnuts from him. It was the least I could do.”
“That’s funny,” she said.
“What – that my hat blew off?”
“No – that he found it for you and wouldn’t accept any sort of payment. The very same thing happened to me. Not with my hat – but with my favorite silver brooch. You know the one -- it was my mother's. I don't know how I lost it. But he found it, and brought it to me. And he wouldn’t accept any kind of payment.”
“He seems like a good kid.”
She nodded.
“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” she said. “I just wish things weren’t so tough for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s an orphan. His parents died in the flu epidemic a few years ago. He’s been living on the streets ever since. I don’t know where he sleeps. I think he has some kind of hiding place somewhere. I just hope it's warm. It must be really cold outside in the winter!”
“How do you know about him?”
“He told me. We talk sometimes. I try to buy chestnuts from him whenever I can. Just to help out. He won’t take any handouts.”
He smiled.
“You’re getting a good bargain. They’re good chestnuts.”
She dropped her hands to her hips, moving them up and down in a sort of halfhearted slimming gesture.
“I don’t eat them,” she said, quickly (perhaps a little too quickly). “A girl has to watch her figure – you know how it is!”
He chuckled. Maria seemed so concerned – and really, there was no reason at all for her to feel that way. She was stunning. They always were. He’d spent his whole life working in vaudeville and circuses, performing his strongman act. The chorus girls were always stunning – but they always worried about “watching their figures”!
“I wish there were some way to really help him,” said the strongman. “Something more than just buying chestnuts from him.”
Maria shook her head.
“There’s nothing else to do,” she said. “I don’t have much, but I’ve tried to give him money. He won’t take it. Not a penny. ”
The strongman nodded slowly. He understood.
“He won’t take charity. He know he has to make his own way in life. He'll work for money, and he'll sell chestnuts to you, but that's all."
Now it was Maria's turn to nod her head in understanding. He was right.
“That’s what I had to do,” she said.
He leaned forward and kissed the top her head.
“Me, too,” he said. “It’s what we all had to do. All of us who perform for a living. We all have the same story.”
A young stagehand popped his head around the side of the door. He had red hair and freckles, and was chewing a huge wad of gum.
“Curtain call in thirty minutes!” he said. “You’d better start to get ready!”
The chorus girl turned and stuck out her tongue.
“You’re worse than the stage manager,” she said.
“I know!” laughed the stagehand. “That’s why you love me so much!”
She laughed.
"You think all the girls love you!"
"No, just you! That's why we're getting married."
“Married? Hell will freeze over before I marry you!"
“Then I’m in luck!” countered the stagehand. “”As cold as it is, that just might happen!”
He turned and headed down the hall, whistling a popular love-song.
The chorus girl turned back to the strongman.
“I have to go now,” she said. “I need to get dressed.”
He nodded.
“Me, too.”
“I’d like to stay,” she said. “I mean – to talk. You know. But I gotta get changed.”
He nodded.
“Duty calls. The show must go on.”
“Yeah – something like that.”
Maria girl turned. left the room and walked down the hall to the dancer’s dressing room.
The strongman closed the door, and started to change into his costume. As he did, he thought about the little boy who made a living by selling hot roasted chestnuts. There must be some way to help him!
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
***********************************************************************************
Every year I share a Christmas story with readers. It's an annual tradition here at Dino Headquarters -- along with our Dino Christmas tree, watching "White Christmas" (my dad's favorite Christmas movie), and doing lots of heavy leg and back work out in the garage.
This is part two of this year's Christmas story. I posted part one on Monday -- if you missed it, follow this link and read part 1 first:
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-1.html
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Yours in strength,
Brooks Kubik
The Strongman's Christmas (Part Two)
He got back to the theater early, and went back stage to his small dressing room.
He took off his heavy coat, and hung it on the hook on the wall.
He placed his hat on the dressing table, and laid his thick, warm leather gloves next to it.
There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a high-pitched female voice.
“Are you decent?” the voice asked.
He sighed, and shook his head. Maria always asked that question when she knocked on his door. She always made it sound more than a little hopeful – as if she hoped he was disrobing when she knocked on his door.
“I’m dressed,” he called. “Come in!”
He could have sworn he heard a small sigh of disappointment from behind the door.
The door opened and a chorus girl with blonde curls and nice curves stepped into the dressing room.
“I brought you something,” she said. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“That was kind of you!” he said. “It smells good. What is it?”
“Chestnuts. Hot roasted chestnuts. I bought them from the little boy who runs the stand down the street.”
That caught his attention!
“A short little boy – about so tall?”
He held his hand out, palm down, indicating the boy’s height.
She nodded.
“Pale, white skin – no gloves – wears an old jacket that’s ripped and torn? Old black hat that’s two sizes too big for him?”
She nodded again.
“Do you know him?”
He nodded.
“My hat ran away on a gust of wind earlier today,” he said. “He found it for me. And he wouldn’t accept a penny for helping me – so I bought a bag of chestnuts from him. It was the least I could do.”
“That’s funny,” she said.
“What – that my hat blew off?”
“No – that he found it for you and wouldn’t accept any sort of payment. The very same thing happened to me. Not with my hat – but with my favorite silver brooch. You know the one -- it was my mother's. I don't know how I lost it. But he found it, and brought it to me. And he wouldn’t accept any kind of payment.”
“He seems like a good kid.”
She nodded.
“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” she said. “I just wish things weren’t so tough for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s an orphan. His parents died in the flu epidemic a few years ago. He’s been living on the streets ever since. I don’t know where he sleeps. I think he has some kind of hiding place somewhere. I just hope it's warm. It must be really cold outside in the winter!”
“How do you know about him?”
“He told me. We talk sometimes. I try to buy chestnuts from him whenever I can. Just to help out. He won’t take any handouts.”
He smiled.
“You’re getting a good bargain. They’re good chestnuts.”
She dropped her hands to her hips, moving them up and down in a sort of halfhearted slimming gesture.
“I don’t eat them,” she said, quickly (perhaps a little too quickly). “A girl has to watch her figure – you know how it is!”
He chuckled. Maria seemed so concerned – and really, there was no reason at all for her to feel that way. She was stunning. They always were. He’d spent his whole life working in vaudeville and circuses, performing his strongman act. The chorus girls were always stunning – but they always worried about “watching their figures”!
“I wish there were some way to really help him,” said the strongman. “Something more than just buying chestnuts from him.”
Maria shook her head.
“There’s nothing else to do,” she said. “I don’t have much, but I’ve tried to give him money. He won’t take it. Not a penny. ”
The strongman nodded slowly. He understood.
“He won’t take charity. He know he has to make his own way in life. He'll work for money, and he'll sell chestnuts to you, but that's all."
Now it was Maria's turn to nod her head in understanding. He was right.
“That’s what I had to do,” she said.
He leaned forward and kissed the top her head.
“Me, too,” he said. “It’s what we all had to do. All of us who perform for a living. We all have the same story.”
A young stagehand popped his head around the side of the door. He had red hair and freckles, and was chewing a huge wad of gum.
“Curtain call in thirty minutes!” he said. “You’d better start to get ready!”
The chorus girl turned and stuck out her tongue.
“You’re worse than the stage manager,” she said.
“I know!” laughed the stagehand. “That’s why you love me so much!”
She laughed.
"You think all the girls love you!"
"No, just you! That's why we're getting married."
“Married? Hell will freeze over before I marry you!"
“Then I’m in luck!” countered the stagehand. “”As cold as it is, that just might happen!”
He turned and headed down the hall, whistling a popular love-song.
The chorus girl turned back to the strongman.
“I have to go now,” she said. “I need to get dressed.”
He nodded.
“Me, too.”
“I’d like to stay,” she said. “I mean – to talk. You know. But I gotta get changed.”
He nodded.
“Duty calls. The show must go on.”
“Yeah – something like that.”
Maria girl turned. left the room and walked down the hall to the dancer’s dressing room.
The strongman closed the door, and started to change into his costume. As he did, he thought about the little boy who made a living by selling hot roasted chestnuts. There must be some way to help him!
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
***********************************************************************************
The Dinosaur Christmas Story, Part 1
Hail to the Dinosaurs!
The Dinosaur Christmas story is a holiday
tradition here at Dino Headquarters -- and
it's always a big favorite with the Dinos.
I'm posting this year's Christmas Story at
the Dinosaur Training Blog.
Here's the link to Part 1:
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-1.html
In other news, there's still time to get those
Christmas orders in. We ship books and DVDs
by Priority Mail, so they should make it to you
before Christmas if you are in the USA -- but
you need to place your order now.
And finally, we have something new and
fun for you -- with electronic delivery, so
shipping won't be a concern. Look for the
big announcement later today.
Yours in strength,
Brooks Kubik
P.S. Chalk and Sweat has 50 terrific workouts
for beginners, intermediates, and advanced
Dinos -- as well as leg and back specialization
programs to build Herculean strength and muscle
mass as fast as possible:
http://www.brookskubik.com/chalk_and_sweat.html
P.S. 2. My other books and courses are right
here at Dino Headquarters:
http://www.brookskubik.com/products.html
P.S. 3. Thought for the Day: "Chestnuts roasting
on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose --
and squats. Lots of squats." -- Brooks Kubik
***********************************************************************************
The Dinosaur Christmas story is a holiday
tradition here at Dino Headquarters -- and
it's always a big favorite with the Dinos.
I'm posting this year's Christmas Story at
the Dinosaur Training Blog.
Here's the link to Part 1:
http://dinosaurtraining.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-strongmans-christmas-part-1.html
In other news, there's still time to get those
Christmas orders in. We ship books and DVDs
by Priority Mail, so they should make it to you
before Christmas if you are in the USA -- but
you need to place your order now.
And finally, we have something new and
fun for you -- with electronic delivery, so
shipping won't be a concern. Look for the
big announcement later today.
Yours in strength,
Brooks Kubik
P.S. Chalk and Sweat has 50 terrific workouts
for beginners, intermediates, and advanced
Dinos -- as well as leg and back specialization
programs to build Herculean strength and muscle
mass as fast as possible:
http://www.brookskubik.com/chalk_and_sweat.html
P.S. 2. My other books and courses are right
here at Dino Headquarters:
http://www.brookskubik.com/products.html
P.S. 3. Thought for the Day: "Chestnuts roasting
on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose --
and squats. Lots of squats." -- Brooks Kubik
***********************************************************************************
The Strongman's Christmas (Part 1)
Hail to the Dinosaurs!
The Dinosaur Christmas Story is a holiday tradition here at Dinosaur Training Headquarters. This is part one of the Christmas Story. Be looking for parts 2 and 3 tomorrow and the next day.
On Christmas Eve we'll share another Dinosaur Christmas tradition -- the ever-popular Dinosaur version of The Night Before Christmas.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all Dinos everywhere! I hope you make 2016 the best year ever for strength and health.
Brooks Kubik
THE STRONGMAN’S CHRISTMAS
Part One
“BRRRR! It’s cold.”
The broad-shouldered man slapped his gloved hands together as he stepped out of the theatre and into the cold.
A sharp gust of wind hit him full force, almost pushing him backward despite his size and weight.
He lowered his head and shoulders and pushed his way forward, fighting against the cold and the wind. His hotel was seven and a half city-blocks from the theater. Even under his heavy German coat, he’d be half-frozen by the time he got there.
At least there would be a hot meal waiting for him when he reached the hotel.
He had gone about three blocks when another gust of wind tore his hat from his head and sent it sailing across the street and down the sidewalk.
It was an expensive hat. He didn’t relish the thought of losing it. Nor did he relish the thought of completing his trek with a bare head. Not on a day like this, when the wind blew out of the north with the full force and fury of an arctic gale.
And besides, he kept something very special inside the hat. His good luck charm. It wouldn’t do to lose a good luck charm.
He darted across the street, moving with amazing speed for a big man. But his hat was nowhere to be found.
He stopped, stood and looked down the sidewalk.
Where could it be?
He walked up and down the sidewalk, peering into every nook and cranny where the offending bowler might have hidden itself.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
He growled in frustration, muttering faint words in German.
“Dumbkopf!” he said. “You should have kept your hand on your head.”
He came to the entrance to a dark alley. Perhaps the hat was there.
He stepped into the alley, choosing his steps carefully to avoid the mud, the dirt, the filth and the garbage.
Ten steps into the alley, he stopped and shook his head in resignation. If the hat was here, it was as good as gone anyway. It would be ruined in any case.
He turned and retraced his steps.
Once he was back on the sidewalk, he took one last look up and down the sidewalk, then sighed, shook his head a final time, and turned toward his hotel.
He had taken perhaps a dozen steps when he felt a small hand tugging at the sleeve of his coat.
“Here, Mister,” said a young boy. “Here’s your hat.”
The boy held the hat in his pale, white hand, gloveless against the cold, and doubtless half-frozen.
The man reached down, took the hat in hand, turned it over, and peered inside.
His good luck charm was gone!
The small boy held up his other hand.
“This fell out of it, Mister,” he said.
He held up a small gold medal on a blue ribbon.
The man took the medal, and held it in his hand, feeling its weight, and reading its words. He already knew them, of course. He had read the inscription so many times since the day the King had pinned the medal on his massive chest.
“Thank you,” he said.
He reached in his pocket, and pulled out a handful of change.
The boy shook his head.
“No, Mister,” he said. “You don’t need to do that. I was just -- just being being a good Christian.”
He looked small and tired and hungry -- and very cold. His teeth chattered as he spoke.
The man looked at the boy silently.
“But you did me a kindness,” he said. “I should repay you.”
Once again, the boy shook his head.
“No, Sir,” he said. “It wouldn’t be right to take money for doing a kindness.”
“You must let me do something! This hat is very expensive – and this medal is – is very special to me.”
“Do you like chestnuts?’ asked the boy.
The man nodded.
“I sell hot chestnuts,” said the boy.
It was a way to repay a kindness.
“I’d like to buy some,” said the man.
“It’s right over there,” said the boy. “Where I sell them, I mean. That’s where your hat blew. That’s how I found it.”
“Thank you for being there,” said the man. "You must be my guardian angel."
Despite the cold, the boy smiled.
"Naw, I'm just -- just the kid who sells hot chestnuts," he said. "But I'm glad I grabbed your hat before it blew all the way to China."
TO BE CONTINUED.
The Dinosaur Christmas Story is a holiday tradition here at Dinosaur Training Headquarters. This is part one of the Christmas Story. Be looking for parts 2 and 3 tomorrow and the next day.
On Christmas Eve we'll share another Dinosaur Christmas tradition -- the ever-popular Dinosaur version of The Night Before Christmas.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all Dinos everywhere! I hope you make 2016 the best year ever for strength and health.
Brooks Kubik
THE STRONGMAN’S CHRISTMAS
Part One
“BRRRR! It’s cold.”
The broad-shouldered man slapped his gloved hands together as he stepped out of the theatre and into the cold.
A sharp gust of wind hit him full force, almost pushing him backward despite his size and weight.
He lowered his head and shoulders and pushed his way forward, fighting against the cold and the wind. His hotel was seven and a half city-blocks from the theater. Even under his heavy German coat, he’d be half-frozen by the time he got there.
At least there would be a hot meal waiting for him when he reached the hotel.
He had gone about three blocks when another gust of wind tore his hat from his head and sent it sailing across the street and down the sidewalk.
It was an expensive hat. He didn’t relish the thought of losing it. Nor did he relish the thought of completing his trek with a bare head. Not on a day like this, when the wind blew out of the north with the full force and fury of an arctic gale.
And besides, he kept something very special inside the hat. His good luck charm. It wouldn’t do to lose a good luck charm.
He darted across the street, moving with amazing speed for a big man. But his hat was nowhere to be found.
He stopped, stood and looked down the sidewalk.
Where could it be?
He walked up and down the sidewalk, peering into every nook and cranny where the offending bowler might have hidden itself.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
He growled in frustration, muttering faint words in German.
“Dumbkopf!” he said. “You should have kept your hand on your head.”
He came to the entrance to a dark alley. Perhaps the hat was there.
He stepped into the alley, choosing his steps carefully to avoid the mud, the dirt, the filth and the garbage.
Ten steps into the alley, he stopped and shook his head in resignation. If the hat was here, it was as good as gone anyway. It would be ruined in any case.
He turned and retraced his steps.
Once he was back on the sidewalk, he took one last look up and down the sidewalk, then sighed, shook his head a final time, and turned toward his hotel.
He had taken perhaps a dozen steps when he felt a small hand tugging at the sleeve of his coat.
“Here, Mister,” said a young boy. “Here’s your hat.”
The boy held the hat in his pale, white hand, gloveless against the cold, and doubtless half-frozen.
The man reached down, took the hat in hand, turned it over, and peered inside.
His good luck charm was gone!
The small boy held up his other hand.
“This fell out of it, Mister,” he said.
He held up a small gold medal on a blue ribbon.
The man took the medal, and held it in his hand, feeling its weight, and reading its words. He already knew them, of course. He had read the inscription so many times since the day the King had pinned the medal on his massive chest.
“Thank you,” he said.
He reached in his pocket, and pulled out a handful of change.
The boy shook his head.
“No, Mister,” he said. “You don’t need to do that. I was just -- just being being a good Christian.”
He looked small and tired and hungry -- and very cold. His teeth chattered as he spoke.
The man looked at the boy silently.
“But you did me a kindness,” he said. “I should repay you.”
Once again, the boy shook his head.
“No, Sir,” he said. “It wouldn’t be right to take money for doing a kindness.”
“You must let me do something! This hat is very expensive – and this medal is – is very special to me.”
“Do you like chestnuts?’ asked the boy.
The man nodded.
“I sell hot chestnuts,” said the boy.
It was a way to repay a kindness.
“I’d like to buy some,” said the man.
“It’s right over there,” said the boy. “Where I sell them, I mean. That’s where your hat blew. That’s how I found it.”
“Thank you for being there,” said the man. "You must be my guardian angel."
Despite the cold, the boy smiled.
"Naw, I'm just -- just the kid who sells hot chestnuts," he said. "But I'm glad I grabbed your hat before it blew all the way to China."
TO BE CONTINUED.
THE STRONGMAN'S CHRISTMAS (PART THREE)
Note: This is the third part of the story -- if you missed parts one and two, scroll down and read them first!
Part Three
It was the last performance before Christmas, and it may have been his best of the year.
He lifted enormous, thick-handled barbells, stupendous dumbbells and massive kettle-bells.
He juggled 56-pound block weights.
Then he juggled his kettlebells.
And then he juggled two cannonballs.
He asked one of the stagehands to come onto the stage – a man weighing perhaps 140 or 150 pounds – and used the man to perform the Manual of Arms as easily as if he were holding an 8-pound rifle.
He broke chains with his bare hands – and snapped others by having them wrapped around d his chest – and then breathing deeply, filling his lungs, and flexing every muscle in his upper body.
He twisted metal bars and horseshoes as if they were made of rubber.
Ten men from the audience came on stage, and he beat all ten of them at the same time in a tug of war.
He lifted 500 pounds with one finger.
He performed a back-lift with a specially constructed stage while 20 men from the audience stood on it.
The crowd loved it. They clapped and cheered louder and louder with each successive feat of strength.
He ended the performance with a titanic feat of strength.
It began when six burly stagehands rolled an enormous globe barbell onto the stage. It lay in the center of the stage, looking massive and menacing.
The strongman invited two men from the audience to step on stage and try to lift the bell. Two husky heroes accepted the invitation – and failed to budge it.
The strongman challenged four men to attempt to lift the barbell.
Two more men stepped onto the stage and cautiously approached the barbell.
One man bent down and wrapped his arms as far as possible around one of the globes.
The other man did the same.
The first two men grabbed the thick handled bar. Their hands could barely wrap around it.
“On the count of three!” said the strongman.
The men nodded and tightened their grips.
“One!”
The men gripped harder than ever.
“Two!”
The men barely dared to breathe.
“THREE!”
The four men heaved with all their might – but nothing happened.
For several long, agonizing seconds they pulled and strained – and then the man holding the left globe suddenly lost his grip and fell backwards – and then the man holding the other globe did the same – and then one of the men pulling against the bat fell forward – and the other man let go, stood up, and backed away, shaking his head.
“It’s impossible,” he said. “No man could lift this!”
“Stand aside – out of the way!”
The strongman approached the bar. With quick, sure, practiced movements, he reached down, levered it up on end, slipped his right hand under the center of the bar and dipped under it.
The audience gasped as the huge barbell rose up as if by magic.
The strongman smiled as the bar balanced on his shoulder.
He turned slightly, and began to lower his body, twisting himself under the barbell.
He finished in a deep squat, holding the bar overhead with one hand.
And then he stood up.
He finished the lift with the bar overhead – and smiled at the audience as he supported the huge weight.
And then, for good measure – he squatted down again, picked up a heavy kettlebell, rocked it to his other shoulder, and then pressed it overhead.
The crowd went wild.
Back in his dressing room, he showered, and changed back into his street clothes.
He had just finished tying his tie when he heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened, and a well-dressed man stepped inside. He was middle-aged, with short, silver-gray hair, but he stood tall and straight, and moved with the grace of an athlete.
He held an engraved calling card in his hand, and passed it to the strongman, who glanced at it curiously.
His eyes opened in surprise and he read the card a second time.
“Let me come straight to the point,” said the stranger. “That was a magnificent performance this afternoon. Simply outstanding. You’re the very best strongman in the world – but you’re doing neither yourself nor the world any favors by performing in a place like this. I am prepared to offer you double whatever they’re paying you here – to tour the United States with my circus. I’ll give you a guaranteed one year contract and everything you need to perform your act.”
“Food and drink?”
“As much as you want.”
“I have two brothers – what about them?”
“Are they strong?’
“They’re my brothers. They’re strong.”
“Then I want them, too.”
The strongman nodded.
“There’s one more thing I want,’ he said.
“Name it.”
“There’s a boy down the street who sells hot roasted chestnuts. He’s an orphan – his parents died of the flu. I want you to hire him as well.”
“To do what?”
“He can sell chestnuts just as well in the circus as on the street corner.”
‘They must be a special kind of chestnuts.”
The strongman shook his head.
“No – but he’s special kind of kid,” he said.
The circus owner nodded and extended his hand.
“It’s a deal,” he said.
The strongman reached out and offered his own massive hand.
“Deal,” he said.
As the men shook hands, there was another knock on the door.
"Come in!"
The blonde chorus girl stepped inside.
"Oh -- I'm sorry!" she said. "I didn't know you had company."
"The circus owner bowed and smiled.
"Not at all," he said. "A mere business discussion -- and we're concluded."
He turned back to the strongman.
"I'll have my lawyer draw up a contract and deliver it next week," he said. "And I wish you a merry Christmas!"
He left, leaving the door open.
The chorus girl turned to the strongman.
"I thought you might want to buy some chestnuts," she said. "You know -- from the kid. Just to help him get some food for Christmas."
The strongman shook his head.
"I think we'll take him to dinner instead," he said. "This is a Christmas he'll remember forever."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He told her, and she clapped her hands for sheer joy, then through herself against his chest, crushed him in a hug and kissed him.
"That's the best Christmas present ever," she cried. "Let's go tell him!"
They stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind them, and then stepped through the big doors at the front of the theater and into the busy street.
The wind blew fiercely as the walked toward the boy at the chestnut stand. It half ripped a poster from the wall of the theater -- a poster that proudly proclaimed: "FOR A LIMITED ENGAGEMENT -- THE STRONGEST MAN IN THE WORLD -- ARTHUR SAXON!"
Part Three
It was the last performance before Christmas, and it may have been his best of the year.
He lifted enormous, thick-handled barbells, stupendous dumbbells and massive kettle-bells.
He juggled 56-pound block weights.
Then he juggled his kettlebells.
And then he juggled two cannonballs.
He asked one of the stagehands to come onto the stage – a man weighing perhaps 140 or 150 pounds – and used the man to perform the Manual of Arms as easily as if he were holding an 8-pound rifle.
He broke chains with his bare hands – and snapped others by having them wrapped around d his chest – and then breathing deeply, filling his lungs, and flexing every muscle in his upper body.
He twisted metal bars and horseshoes as if they were made of rubber.
Ten men from the audience came on stage, and he beat all ten of them at the same time in a tug of war.
He lifted 500 pounds with one finger.
He performed a back-lift with a specially constructed stage while 20 men from the audience stood on it.
The crowd loved it. They clapped and cheered louder and louder with each successive feat of strength.
He ended the performance with a titanic feat of strength.
It began when six burly stagehands rolled an enormous globe barbell onto the stage. It lay in the center of the stage, looking massive and menacing.
The strongman invited two men from the audience to step on stage and try to lift the bell. Two husky heroes accepted the invitation – and failed to budge it.
The strongman challenged four men to attempt to lift the barbell.
Two more men stepped onto the stage and cautiously approached the barbell.
One man bent down and wrapped his arms as far as possible around one of the globes.
The other man did the same.
The first two men grabbed the thick handled bar. Their hands could barely wrap around it.
“On the count of three!” said the strongman.
The men nodded and tightened their grips.
“One!”
The men gripped harder than ever.
“Two!”
The men barely dared to breathe.
“THREE!”
The four men heaved with all their might – but nothing happened.
For several long, agonizing seconds they pulled and strained – and then the man holding the left globe suddenly lost his grip and fell backwards – and then the man holding the other globe did the same – and then one of the men pulling against the bat fell forward – and the other man let go, stood up, and backed away, shaking his head.
“It’s impossible,” he said. “No man could lift this!”
“Stand aside – out of the way!”
The strongman approached the bar. With quick, sure, practiced movements, he reached down, levered it up on end, slipped his right hand under the center of the bar and dipped under it.
The audience gasped as the huge barbell rose up as if by magic.
The strongman smiled as the bar balanced on his shoulder.
He turned slightly, and began to lower his body, twisting himself under the barbell.
He finished in a deep squat, holding the bar overhead with one hand.
And then he stood up.
He finished the lift with the bar overhead – and smiled at the audience as he supported the huge weight.
And then, for good measure – he squatted down again, picked up a heavy kettlebell, rocked it to his other shoulder, and then pressed it overhead.
The crowd went wild.
Back in his dressing room, he showered, and changed back into his street clothes.
He had just finished tying his tie when he heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened, and a well-dressed man stepped inside. He was middle-aged, with short, silver-gray hair, but he stood tall and straight, and moved with the grace of an athlete.
He held an engraved calling card in his hand, and passed it to the strongman, who glanced at it curiously.
His eyes opened in surprise and he read the card a second time.
“Let me come straight to the point,” said the stranger. “That was a magnificent performance this afternoon. Simply outstanding. You’re the very best strongman in the world – but you’re doing neither yourself nor the world any favors by performing in a place like this. I am prepared to offer you double whatever they’re paying you here – to tour the United States with my circus. I’ll give you a guaranteed one year contract and everything you need to perform your act.”
“Food and drink?”
“As much as you want.”
“I have two brothers – what about them?”
“Are they strong?’
“They’re my brothers. They’re strong.”
“Then I want them, too.”
The strongman nodded.
“There’s one more thing I want,’ he said.
“Name it.”
“There’s a boy down the street who sells hot roasted chestnuts. He’s an orphan – his parents died of the flu. I want you to hire him as well.”
“To do what?”
“He can sell chestnuts just as well in the circus as on the street corner.”
‘They must be a special kind of chestnuts.”
The strongman shook his head.
“No – but he’s special kind of kid,” he said.
The circus owner nodded and extended his hand.
“It’s a deal,” he said.
The strongman reached out and offered his own massive hand.
“Deal,” he said.
As the men shook hands, there was another knock on the door.
"Come in!"
The blonde chorus girl stepped inside.
"Oh -- I'm sorry!" she said. "I didn't know you had company."
"The circus owner bowed and smiled.
"Not at all," he said. "A mere business discussion -- and we're concluded."
He turned back to the strongman.
"I'll have my lawyer draw up a contract and deliver it next week," he said. "And I wish you a merry Christmas!"
He left, leaving the door open.
The chorus girl turned to the strongman.
"I thought you might want to buy some chestnuts," she said. "You know -- from the kid. Just to help him get some food for Christmas."
The strongman shook his head.
"I think we'll take him to dinner instead," he said. "This is a Christmas he'll remember forever."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He told her, and she clapped her hands for sheer joy, then through herself against his chest, crushed him in a hug and kissed him.
"That's the best Christmas present ever," she cried. "Let's go tell him!"
They stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind them, and then stepped through the big doors at the front of the theater and into the busy street.
The wind blew fiercely as the walked toward the boy at the chestnut stand. It half ripped a poster from the wall of the theater -- a poster that proudly proclaimed: "FOR A LIMITED ENGAGEMENT -- THE STRONGEST MAN IN THE WORLD -- ARTHUR SAXON!"
THE STRONGMAN'S CHRISTMAS (PART TWO)
Note: Every year I share a Holiday story with readers. This is part two of this year's Holiday story. I posted part one on Monday -- if you missed it, scroll on down and read part one before reading today's part of the story.
Part Two
He got back to the theatre early, and went back stage to his small dressing room.
He took off his heavy coat, and hung it on the hook on the wall.
He placed his hat on the dressing table, and laid his thick, warm leather gloves next to it.
There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a high-pitched female voice.
“Are you decent?” the voice asked.
He sighed, and shook his head. Maria always asked that question when she knocked on his door. She always made the question sound a little bit hopeful – as if she hoped he was disrobing when she knocked on his door.
“I’m dressed,” he called. “Come in!”
He could have sworn he heard a small sigh of disappointment from behind the door.
The door opened and a chorus girl with blonde curls and nice curves stepped into the dressing room.
“I brought you something,” she said. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“That was kind of you!” he said. “It smells good. What is it?”
“Chestnuts. Hot roasted chestnuts. I bought them from the little boy who runs the stand down the street.”
That caught his attention!
“A short little boy – about so tall?”
He held his hand out, palm down, indicating the boy’s height.
She nodded.
“Pale, white skin – no gloves – wears an old jacket that’s ripped and torn? Old black hat that’s too big for him?”
She nodded again.
“Do you know him?”
He nodded.
“My hat ran away on a gust of wind earlier today,” he said. “He found it for me. And he wouldn’t accept a penny for helping me – so I bought a bag of chestnuts from him. It was the least I could do.”
“That’s funny,” she said.
“What – that my hat blew off?”
“No – that he found it for you ands wouldn’t accept any sort of payment. The very same thing happened to me. Not with my hat – but I had dropped my wallet. Her found it, and brought it to me. And he wouldn’t accept any kind of payment.”
“He seems like a good kid.”
She nodded.
“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” she said. “I just wish things weren’t so tough for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s an orphan. His parents died in the flu epidemic a few years ago. He’s been living on the streets ever since. I don’t know where he sleeps. I think he has some kind of hiding place somewhere. It must be really cold in the winter!”
“How d you know this?”
“He told me. We talk sometimes. I try to buy chestnuts from him whenever I can. Just to help out. He won’t take any handouts.”
He smiled.
“You’re getting a good bargain. They’re good chestnuts.”
She dropped her hands to her hips, moving them up and down in a sort of half-hearted slimming gesture.
“I don’t eat them,” she said, quickly (perhaps a little too quickly). “A girl has to watch her figure – you know how it is!”
He chuckled. She seemed so concerned – and really, there was no reason at all for her to feel that way. She was stunning. They always were. He’d spent his whole life working in vaudeville and circuses, performing his strongman act. The chorus girls were always stunning – but they always worried about “watching their figures”!
“I wish there were some way to really help him,” said the strongman. “Something more than just buying chestnuts from him.”
The chorus girl shook her head.
“There’s nothing else to do,” she said. “I don’t have much, but I’ve tried to give him money. He won’t take it.”
The strongman nodded slowly. He understood.
“He won’t take charity. He has to earn it. Has to make his own way in life.”
Now it was her turn to nod in understanding. He was right.
“That’s what I had to do,” she said.
He leaned forward and kissed the top her head.
“Me, too,” he said. “It’s what we all had to do. All of us who perform for a living. We all have the same story.”
A young stagehand popped his head around the side of the door. He had red hair and freckles, and was chewing a huge wad of gum.
“Curtain call in thirty minutes!” he said. “You’d better start to get ready!”
The chorus girl turned and stuck out her tongue.
“You’re worse than the stage manager,” she said.
“I know!” laughed the stagehand. “That’s why you love me so much!”
She laughed.
“Not ‘til Hell freezes over!” she said.
“Then I’m in luck!” countered the stagehand. “”As cold as it is, that just might happen!”
He turned and headed down the hall.
The chorus girl turned back to the strongman.
“I have to go now,” she said. “I need to get dressed.”
He nodded.
“Me, too.”
“I’d like to stay,” she said. “I mean – to talk. You know. But I gotta get changed.”
He nodded.
“Duty calls. The show must go on.”
“Yeah – something like that.”
The chorus girl turned and walked down the hall to the dancer’s dressing room.
The strongman closed the door, and started to change into his costume. As he did, he thought about the little boy who made a living by selling hot roasted chestnuts. There must be something to do to help him!
Part Two
He got back to the theatre early, and went back stage to his small dressing room.
He took off his heavy coat, and hung it on the hook on the wall.
He placed his hat on the dressing table, and laid his thick, warm leather gloves next to it.
There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a high-pitched female voice.
“Are you decent?” the voice asked.
He sighed, and shook his head. Maria always asked that question when she knocked on his door. She always made the question sound a little bit hopeful – as if she hoped he was disrobing when she knocked on his door.
“I’m dressed,” he called. “Come in!”
He could have sworn he heard a small sigh of disappointment from behind the door.
The door opened and a chorus girl with blonde curls and nice curves stepped into the dressing room.
“I brought you something,” she said. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“That was kind of you!” he said. “It smells good. What is it?”
“Chestnuts. Hot roasted chestnuts. I bought them from the little boy who runs the stand down the street.”
That caught his attention!
“A short little boy – about so tall?”
He held his hand out, palm down, indicating the boy’s height.
She nodded.
“Pale, white skin – no gloves – wears an old jacket that’s ripped and torn? Old black hat that’s too big for him?”
She nodded again.
“Do you know him?”
He nodded.
“My hat ran away on a gust of wind earlier today,” he said. “He found it for me. And he wouldn’t accept a penny for helping me – so I bought a bag of chestnuts from him. It was the least I could do.”
“That’s funny,” she said.
“What – that my hat blew off?”
“No – that he found it for you ands wouldn’t accept any sort of payment. The very same thing happened to me. Not with my hat – but I had dropped my wallet. Her found it, and brought it to me. And he wouldn’t accept any kind of payment.”
“He seems like a good kid.”
She nodded.
“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” she said. “I just wish things weren’t so tough for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s an orphan. His parents died in the flu epidemic a few years ago. He’s been living on the streets ever since. I don’t know where he sleeps. I think he has some kind of hiding place somewhere. It must be really cold in the winter!”
“How d you know this?”
“He told me. We talk sometimes. I try to buy chestnuts from him whenever I can. Just to help out. He won’t take any handouts.”
He smiled.
“You’re getting a good bargain. They’re good chestnuts.”
She dropped her hands to her hips, moving them up and down in a sort of half-hearted slimming gesture.
“I don’t eat them,” she said, quickly (perhaps a little too quickly). “A girl has to watch her figure – you know how it is!”
He chuckled. She seemed so concerned – and really, there was no reason at all for her to feel that way. She was stunning. They always were. He’d spent his whole life working in vaudeville and circuses, performing his strongman act. The chorus girls were always stunning – but they always worried about “watching their figures”!
“I wish there were some way to really help him,” said the strongman. “Something more than just buying chestnuts from him.”
The chorus girl shook her head.
“There’s nothing else to do,” she said. “I don’t have much, but I’ve tried to give him money. He won’t take it.”
The strongman nodded slowly. He understood.
“He won’t take charity. He has to earn it. Has to make his own way in life.”
Now it was her turn to nod in understanding. He was right.
“That’s what I had to do,” she said.
He leaned forward and kissed the top her head.
“Me, too,” he said. “It’s what we all had to do. All of us who perform for a living. We all have the same story.”
A young stagehand popped his head around the side of the door. He had red hair and freckles, and was chewing a huge wad of gum.
“Curtain call in thirty minutes!” he said. “You’d better start to get ready!”
The chorus girl turned and stuck out her tongue.
“You’re worse than the stage manager,” she said.
“I know!” laughed the stagehand. “That’s why you love me so much!”
She laughed.
“Not ‘til Hell freezes over!” she said.
“Then I’m in luck!” countered the stagehand. “”As cold as it is, that just might happen!”
He turned and headed down the hall.
The chorus girl turned back to the strongman.
“I have to go now,” she said. “I need to get dressed.”
He nodded.
“Me, too.”
“I’d like to stay,” she said. “I mean – to talk. You know. But I gotta get changed.”
He nodded.
“Duty calls. The show must go on.”
“Yeah – something like that.”
The chorus girl turned and walked down the hall to the dancer’s dressing room.
The strongman closed the door, and started to change into his costume. As he did, he thought about the little boy who made a living by selling hot roasted chestnuts. There must be something to do to help him!
THE STRONGMAN'S CHRISTMAS (PART ONE)
THE STRONGMAN’S CHRISTMAS
Part One
“BRRRR! It’s cold.”
The broad-shouldered man slapped his gloved hands together as he stepped out of the theatre and into the cold.
A sharp gust of wind hit him full force, almost pushing him backward despite his size and weight.
He lowered his head and shoulders and pushed his way forward, fighting against the cold and the wind. His hotel was seven and a half city-blocks from the theatre. Even under his heavy German coat, he’d be half-frozen by the time he got there.
At least there would be a hot meal waiting for him when he reached the hotel.
He had gone about three blocks when another gust of wind tore his hat from his head and sent it sailing across the street and down the sidewalk.
It was an expensive hat. He didn’t relish the thought of losing it. Nor did he relish the thought of completing his trek with a bare head. Not on a day like this when the North winds blew with full force and fury.
And besides, he kept something very special inside the hat. His good luck charm. It wouldn’t do to lose a good luck charm.
He darted across the street, moving with amazing speed for a big man. But his hat was nowhere to be found.
He stopped, stood and looked down the sidewalk.
Where could it be?
He walked up and down the sidewalk, peering into every nook and cranny where the offending bowler might have hidden itself.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
He growled in frustration, muttering faint words in German.
“Dumbkoppf!” he said. “You should have kept your hand on your head.”
He came to the entrance to a dark alley. Perhaps the hat was there.
He stepped into the alley, choosing his steps carefully to avoid the frozen mud, the dirt, and the garbage.
Ten steps into the alley, he stopped and shook his head in resignation. If the hat was here, it was as good as gone anyway. It would be ruined in any case.
He turned and retraced his steps.
Once he was back on the sidewalk, he took one last look up and down the sidewalk, then sighed, shook his head a final time, and turned toward his hotel.
He had taken perhaps a dozen steps when he felt a tiny hand tugging at the sleeve of his coat.
“Here, Mister,” said a small boy. “Here’s your hat.”
The boy held the hat in his pale, white hand, gloveless against the cold, and doubtless half-frozen.
The man reached down, took the hat in hand, turned it over, and peered inside.
His good luck charm was gone!
The small boy held up his other hand.
“This fell out of it, Mister,” he said.
He held up a small gold medal on a blue ribbon.
The man took the medal, and held it in his hand, feeling its weight, and reading its words. He already knew them, of course. He had read the inscription so many times since the day the King had given the medal to him.
“Thank you,” he said.
He reached in his pocket, and pulled out a handful of change.
The boy shook his head.
“No, Mister,” he said. “You don’t need to do that. I was just being a good Christian.”
The man looked at the boy silently.
“But you did me a kindness,” he said. “I should repay you.”
Once again, the boy shook his head.
“No, Sir,” he said. “It wouldn’t be right to take money for doing a kindness.”
“You must let me do something! This hat is very expensive – and this medal is – is very special to me.”
“Do you like chestnuts?’ asked the boy.
The man nodded.
“I sell hot chestnuts,” said the boy.
It was both a statement and a question.
“I’d like to buy some,” said the man.
“It’s right over there,” said the boy. “Where I sell them, I mean. That’s where your hat blew. That’s how I found it.”
“Thank you for finding it,” said the man.
“You’re welcome, Sir,” said the boy.
TO BE CONTINUED
Part One
“BRRRR! It’s cold.”
The broad-shouldered man slapped his gloved hands together as he stepped out of the theatre and into the cold.
A sharp gust of wind hit him full force, almost pushing him backward despite his size and weight.
He lowered his head and shoulders and pushed his way forward, fighting against the cold and the wind. His hotel was seven and a half city-blocks from the theatre. Even under his heavy German coat, he’d be half-frozen by the time he got there.
At least there would be a hot meal waiting for him when he reached the hotel.
He had gone about three blocks when another gust of wind tore his hat from his head and sent it sailing across the street and down the sidewalk.
It was an expensive hat. He didn’t relish the thought of losing it. Nor did he relish the thought of completing his trek with a bare head. Not on a day like this when the North winds blew with full force and fury.
And besides, he kept something very special inside the hat. His good luck charm. It wouldn’t do to lose a good luck charm.
He darted across the street, moving with amazing speed for a big man. But his hat was nowhere to be found.
He stopped, stood and looked down the sidewalk.
Where could it be?
He walked up and down the sidewalk, peering into every nook and cranny where the offending bowler might have hidden itself.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
He growled in frustration, muttering faint words in German.
“Dumbkoppf!” he said. “You should have kept your hand on your head.”
He came to the entrance to a dark alley. Perhaps the hat was there.
He stepped into the alley, choosing his steps carefully to avoid the frozen mud, the dirt, and the garbage.
Ten steps into the alley, he stopped and shook his head in resignation. If the hat was here, it was as good as gone anyway. It would be ruined in any case.
He turned and retraced his steps.
Once he was back on the sidewalk, he took one last look up and down the sidewalk, then sighed, shook his head a final time, and turned toward his hotel.
He had taken perhaps a dozen steps when he felt a tiny hand tugging at the sleeve of his coat.
“Here, Mister,” said a small boy. “Here’s your hat.”
The boy held the hat in his pale, white hand, gloveless against the cold, and doubtless half-frozen.
The man reached down, took the hat in hand, turned it over, and peered inside.
His good luck charm was gone!
The small boy held up his other hand.
“This fell out of it, Mister,” he said.
He held up a small gold medal on a blue ribbon.
The man took the medal, and held it in his hand, feeling its weight, and reading its words. He already knew them, of course. He had read the inscription so many times since the day the King had given the medal to him.
“Thank you,” he said.
He reached in his pocket, and pulled out a handful of change.
The boy shook his head.
“No, Mister,” he said. “You don’t need to do that. I was just being a good Christian.”
The man looked at the boy silently.
“But you did me a kindness,” he said. “I should repay you.”
Once again, the boy shook his head.
“No, Sir,” he said. “It wouldn’t be right to take money for doing a kindness.”
“You must let me do something! This hat is very expensive – and this medal is – is very special to me.”
“Do you like chestnuts?’ asked the boy.
The man nodded.
“I sell hot chestnuts,” said the boy.
It was both a statement and a question.
“I’d like to buy some,” said the man.
“It’s right over there,” said the boy. “Where I sell them, I mean. That’s where your hat blew. That’s how I found it.”
“Thank you for finding it,” said the man.
“You’re welcome, Sir,” said the boy.
TO BE CONTINUED
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