Crystal Drags Me to Church

One day, Crystal decided I needed to go to church.

I told Crystal I did not, either, need to go to any stupid church. I already went once, and didn't like it.

Crystal said if I didn't go to church and get baptized and stuff, that my immortal soul would burn forever in a lake of fire. She said I needed to be saved.

I told her I didn't believe her. I didn't want to be saved, whatever that was. If what she said was true, everybody would go to church; but Daddy didn't go, and I wasn't going either. She could not make me.

Crystal go all red in the face. "We'll see about that," she said. She left. I went down to the billiard room to shoot some pool.

After a while, Daddy came in. "Son, I want you to do this for me."

"But I don't like church and I don't like Jesus either."

"Biff, this has nothing to do with what you like or not, or what you think of Jesus. Someday, you'll understand."

"Tell me now Daddy. I can't wait for someday."

"Okay." Daddy looked down at the green table. He fingered the cue ball for a second. "You keep what you really think to yourself. Don't give anything away. If people know what you really think, they can use it for their profit at your expense." He looked in my eyes. I always got nervous looking into his eyes. The blue part was like the highest part of the sky on a bright, cloudless day. When he looked into your eyes, you couldn't look away. No one else ever had eyes like Daddy.

"What's important is what people think you believe. You have to act like you think like them, even though you are much smarter and don't believe their silly ideas. But if you want them to buy from you, they have to think you believe the same way as they do."

I didn't see that at all. "So, it's like a trick you play on people?"

Daddy smiled and nodded. "Yes, that's about it. You have to go to church so you can act like you are like other people."

"But I don't have to be like them?"

"Just pretend. You'll understand when you are older."

"Well, I still don't like it. But I guess you are the boss." I hesitated. "Why don't you go?"

"I already paid for the church, and I'm the boss. Any other questions?"

"No sir." I knew I had to go. Daddy said I did, and no one ever didn't do what Daddy said. But I didn't have to like it. That darned Jesus sure stirred up a lot of trouble.

Santa Remembers My Train

One day, I got my train. This was before Crystal came to live with Daddy.

A few days before Christmas, Nanny Alice and George took me on a trip. We went to some beach where there were no other people. I didn't like it much. The water was cold, you couldn't see the bottom, and I was afraid of jellyfish.

But I liked walking along the beach. Nanny Alice and I went for long walks most every day. We talked about stuff. She was a big believer in Jesus, the Virgin Mary, Joseph, St. Francis, St. Elmo, Archangel Michael, Satan and other gods. She believed in one chief God who ruled over all the rest, but I couldn't figure out if that was Jesus or Jesus' Daddy. I guess it was the Daddy God.

She prayed a lot, usually to Virgin Mary, but also to the others, except for Satan.

I didn't like to say much. I liked to just listen. Her voice sounded nice, though sometimes hearing her would make me a little sad. I don't know why.

The night before Christmas, we drove home. It was dark when we got back. I went straight up to my bedroom on the second floor and turned in.

The next day, Christmas, I came downstairs and found a huge box beside the tree, too big to sit underneath it. I ripped open the wrapping, and there was the locomotive for my train! Thank you Santa! Thank you thank you!

Later that day, George, Daddy's driver and some men I didn't know carried the locomotive out to the lawn. Santa had put tracks down, so I could ride to the stables, the garage, the gardner's shed and everywhere on my new train. George showed me how to start the engine, where the gas was and the brakes. Although it was very cold, I rode around on my train for quite a little while.

Santa really came through for me. My doubts about him were all wrong; I should have known I could count on him.

Crystal Makes Me Sad

One day, Crystal made me sad.

I don't remember what she said or did. Maybe I didn't know then either.

All I knew was I wanted to cry.

Daddy always said never show any weakness. He always said real men were tough and strong. I knew Daddy would not want me to cry.

I decided to go visit my shrine to Santa.

I went in and turned the bubble lights on, but left the regular lights off. I turned Santa on. He nodded and waved at me, like always. He smiled, like always.

I lay down on the prayer mat. Somehow, I didn't feel any better.

No one was around, it was just me and Santa. I started crying. "Ok if I cry just a little," I thought, "and if no one knows but Santa." After a while, I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I felt a lot better.

I knew I could always count on Santa.

Biff Gets a New Mommy

One day, Daddy brought me a new Mommy.

I was sitting on my mat, in front of my mechanical Santa. He smiled and nodded; his glass eyes sparkled. His gears whirred.

I heard Daddy's footsteps coming down the hall. I thought it odd; he never came to the third floor.

The door opened. "Come on downstairs Biff," he said, " I want you to meet somebody."

The woman had yellow hair and very dark, black eyebrows. She looked a little like Nanny Camille. She held out her hand; I shook it. It was like holding a glass full of ice water that had been out for a while. I wiped my fingers on my shirt.

"This will be your new Mommy," said Daddy. "Her name is Crystal, but I want you to call her Mommy."

I said nothing.

"She will take care of you on nanny's day off," Daddy said.

"Oh, he's darling," said Crystal. "What a little gentleman!"

"Biff, say something to your new mommy," Daddy said.

I didn't know what to say.

"Biff," Daddy said.

I thought for a moment. "How much did you cost?" I asked.

I never saw a woman's face get so red before.

"Biff, you can go now," said Daddy.

I went back upstairs. I decided to tell Santa about my new mommy. But then I thought, he already knows. "Santa sees you when you're sleeping, he sees you when you're awake."

But I told him anyway.

Daddy is Strict

One day, a man came to see Daddy at the house. They went into the parlor to talk.

I was playing on the veranda, and heard them through the open windows.

"You've got to give a little," said the man.

"No," said Daddy, "I don't. It's my company, I founded it, and if these jokers don't like the pay they can quit."

"I'm telling you," said the man, "This strike will ruin the business. You'll lose millions."

"I don't care," said Daddy, "Nobody betrays me, crosses me and wins."

"The bank is not gonna like this," said the man, "they're not gonna like this at all."

"Screw the bank," said Daddy. "I don't forgive and I don't forget."

Later, the company filed for bankruptcy. The equipment was all auctioned off. Daddy went to the auction and bought the good parts for pennies on the dollar. He put them in a new company.

I guess Daddy was right. It pays to be strict.

Cult of Santaism Suffers Setback

One day, Santa let me down.

All I asked for was a train. You know, a small one to ride aound on. I could ride to the stables, the garden, up to the front gate, the shooting range, or anywhere.

Okay, I guess I asked for more than just a train. I guess I got most everything else I wanted. My new gun was pretty neat. It could fire almost three rounds a second.

I guess Santa can't always give us everthing we ask for. But he still gave me a whole lot of really neat stuff.

Beat that, Jesus!

Daddy Buys a Church

One day, Daddy bought a church.

Some men with big brown briefcases came to the house. Two of them wore nice suits and smoked stinky cigars. Daddy and the men sat in the parlor and talked for almost a whole hour. One of the men wore a black robe and funny white collar.

"Why are those men here?" I asked Nanny Alice. I think it was Alice. Lots of nannies came to see me as I grew up. It might have been Rachel.

"Your father is paying the debts of the old church. You know, the one down by the town square."
"Oh," I said.

"What a good man," said Nanny Alice, "And to think people say that --- your Daddy is doing a good deed." She nodded her head slowly. "God will certainly give him his reward."

Later, the church bought Daddy some cars, a beach house, and a boat. I guess God does reward good deeds.

How I started to Worship Santa

One day, when I was 7, I decided to worship Santa.

It was right after Christmas. I got lots of toys, my own black & white tv, a shotgun and a stud. I named the stud Hogan, after my favorite tv show.

Santa got me everything I asked for, and I didn't even have to pray. For my birthday, I prayed to that cheapskate Jesus, and I never got my dog or gun or pony or anything I asked for.

That Santa really delivered.

I made George take me to the department store. I bought a big mechanical Santa idol on clearance. George carried him up to the third floor and plugged him in. He had a cool motor and gears and stuff that made noise as he waved a friendly wave at me. He nodded his head. I could tell he liked me.

So I set up a shrine.

Over the course of the next year, I moved all of the furniture out. George helped me. Sometimes, George would look at me and just shake his head. I put in lesser dieties and helpers, like Santa's elves, Rudolph, the other reindeer. I had George string bubble lights all around the room.

I put a rug in front of Santa for a prayer mat.

At first, it felt kind of funny, praying to him.

But next Christmas, when I got a color tv, a motorcycle and a go-kart, I knew I was really on to something.

Try to beat that, Jesus!

God Helps Those who Help Themselves

One day, when I was five or six, it occurred to me my family is rich. I was riding in the car, on my way to school.

"George," I said to my driver, "Are we rich?"

"You are master Biff."

"How is that, George?"

"Your father is rich."

I pondered what that meant. After I got home from the academy that day, at dinner, I asked my father.

"Daddy, are we rich?"

"Yes," he said, "we have been very blessed. God helps those who help themselves."

"Why, Daddy?"

"Biff, I worked my butt off my whole life. I worked smarter and harder than anyone else, and that's how we got where we are today."

Later, I learned Daddy got his money from his father, who got his money from grandfather, who got it from the ancestor who's portrait hangs in the third floor hallway.

Ancestor is said to have used another man's patent. When the other man sued, after ancestor had made our fortune, ancestor settled out of court for a huge sum. In the report to stockholders, he said legal expenses are just part of the cost of doing business.

I guess they are.

And I guess God really does help those who help themselves.

The Power of Prayer

One day, I hired eleven women to pray for my father as he underwent surgery. They prayed for at least an hour each.

I gave them all $100.00.

Just to be safe, I made sure the company included a Jew, a Catholic, a Muslim, and Baptist. The Buddhists declined; I couldn't find a Hindu on such short notice. Also, I got a black and an Asian.

Daddy recovered quickly; he played golf just ten short days after they'd cracked his chest open like a lobster tail.

"Good" I thought. "Prayer really does work."