Nog Walk

The Bandon Holiday Nog Walk & Cider Stroll of 2021 was about to commence at three o’clock in afternoon. The annual Christmas parade would follow.

A storm with gale force winds ripped through the port town and threatened to murder the holiday spirit so many people so desperately needed.

I got dragged to the Nog Walk by a friend, a true believer in Christmas if there ever was one. I hate egg nog! And besides, Army and Navy were battling in a pigskin classic on TV and I didn’t want to give that up for some Chamber of Commerce or Downtown Association promotional racket.

The event called for buying a $10 glass to participate. Like, I said, a racket. We were directed to begin the event by gathering at a covered picnic shelter at the port. The Nog Walk would last for 90 minutes.

We found the shelter and stepped inside its cozy glass-enclosed interior. There stood two masked people behind a table. To the left, sat two unmasked homeless men doubtless seeking shelter from the storm and most likely not participating in the Nog Walk.

I checked the map of the 20 participating merchants. Joy to the world! A distillery was one of them. I conjured a great notion: while my friend wandered the streets of Bandon in a pulverizing storm and visited the merchants, chatted them up, purchased their gewgaws, and drank their alcoholic or non alcoholic egg nog or cider, I would hunker down in the distillery and talk to absolutely no one.

It was quickly apparent that we were the first customers of the Nog Walk. It occurred to me that we might be the only ones. My bah humbug vibe was ratcheting up.

My friend must have sensed my mounting dread. There was only one way to dispel that. She broke into song with unhinged gusto.

Hark! The herald angels sing
“Glory to the newborn King”
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled

I joined in singing and started conducting. The choir took it to a higher level.

Joyful all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With angelic host proclaim
Christ is born in Bethlehem
With angelic host proclaim
Christ is born in Bethlehem

I looked at one of the homeless men. He was smiling and singing. He knew all the lyrics! The other homeless man wasn’t singing and he wasn’t smiling. So be it. One homeless man singing “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing” inside an enclosed picnic shelter as a storm raged outside was more than enough.

The carol ended. We all clapped, well, except for one man. Then it was out into the blustering Bandon afternoon to do our civic duty. My friend and I split up and I walked to the distillery. I opened the door and beheld a woman tending bar. No egg nog in sight. She didn’t know anything about the event even though the distillery was listed on the map. She also didn’t care. It was utter holiday indifference and it cheered me to no end.

I checked the time. The Army/Navy game might still be going on! I sprinted into the rain and wind and seconds later was drinking a Guinness and watching the Navy hang on for the upset win.