Starsky & Hutch Advent Calendar 2015

I finally made Starsky shun relentless holiday commercialism. That’s one reason why we spend our Christmases together in the last place you’d expect – the Bay City Prison.

We arrive there on Christmas Day; make fools of ourselves, dressed as cowboys or Elvis, whatever Starsky wrangles for us. I play the out of tune piano. Starsky does his thing, passing around retro candy and gum. He makes them remember themselves as kids, talking about the lights, the trees, their mom’s cookies or sometimes snow when they’re from back east. If there’s a child inside them, Starsky unlocks it, even in the prison rec room.

For a long time, we viewed that place as a pit too nice for the dangerous scum we hunted and sent there. We had pain, physical and heart wise, as a constant reminder why those in that room were the enemy to be feared. Any charity that was once in our nature dried up and got blown away with Terry, Jackson and a hundred others. By the time Lionel got killed, we had trouble offering kindness to anyone, even each other.

But things change.

Starsky finally made me sentimental about Christmas. He made me remember exactly how it felt when I was a kid; the lights, the trees, and the anticipation that something wonderful was going to happen. It didn’t matter what I had done before or what had been done to me. He lived and loved me still.

That’s the other reason we spend our Christmases together with those in jail. All that euphoric sentimentalism made me a bit loopy and sort of brave. We were done being cops, that made it simpler. The counselor suggested that Starsky’s healing process should include a certain amount of forgiveness. Of course, Starsky had to show off, forgiving this one and that one until he forgave them all. When he asked me to go with him to visit the inmates on Christmas, I went gladly, fearlessly singing Feliz Navidad, Elvis style.

It turned out to be a good thing for both of us to do on Christmas. He stays away from shopping, mostly. I don’t complain, much.

On the drive home, we’re usually quiet, glad to be away from the fluorescent lights and cement walls. I think it’s our time to let the cares of the world fade away. As soon as we’ve both let go of the noise, we listen for each other, not with our ears, but with our hearts, open and ready for something wonderful. Always, I hear him clearly.

Grinch

It took us a couple of years, but we’ve finally settled on a compromise. We’ll do a moderate amount of Christmas. One present each, no more than two bundles of pine branches for decoration, and absolutely no Christmas songs before December 20. We agreed.

And Starsky’s cheating. Well, of course he’s cheating, it’s not like that’s a surprise. He’s already got at least half a dozen presents stashed away, and he keeps ‘accidentally’ leaving the radio tuned to ridiculously holiday-happy stations.

But I still can’t believe he thinks I won’t notice him smuggling an entire Christmas tree into the house.

Santa

The thing you’ve gotta understand is, Hutch gets off on being contrary. He thinks there’s always gotta be something wrong with the world, and if you don’t agree, you just ain’t smart enough or deep enough or whatever to see it. And he likes feeling smart.

So I let him. I make sure he gets to grumble his way from October right through December. That way by the time Christmas actually comes around, he’ll be all grumbled-out and happy to let me drag him into celebrating properly.

Hutch likes to talk big about compromises, but I prefer a win-win.

Hutch was powerless to look away. Like watching a train wreck, he stared in stupefied horror. The garish colors—  red and putrid green. The screams, the senseless violence—

“I can’t take any more of this!” he whispered.

“Ssh!” Starsky yanked on his sleeve. “Siddown!”

“This is the worst movie I have ever seen.”

“This is a classic.” Starsky waved at the screen. “Goodness and the spirit of giving overcoming—“

“Santa Claus Conquers the Martians is crap, Starsk.” He groaned.

“Thanks for giving me this for Christmas.”

Hutch melted. He’d seen far worse things last May. “You lived for me.”