Dave Wood

It was the best of kolaches, it was the worst of jitrnice. That’s what the estimable Roman Timmerman surmised as he chatted with the other patrons of Ptacek’s Market on River Falls’ Main Street. His youngest son was perched on Roman’s humble right shoulder gazing in wonderment at the array of foodstuffs lined up in holiday regiments, with a battalion of Bohemian butchers lined up to serve their Yuletide celebrants.

“Look father, look!” exclaimed Tiny Tomas Timmerman, pointing his frail little finger at the glass case before him: “blood sausage, Zelnicky, bábovka and smoked carp!”

Ah, yes, there was blood sausage as black as night, pink pig’s feet that seemed to say, “I want to trot home beside you and jump into a bubbly kettle.” Yes, and there was jitrnice, the Bohemian headcheese, made of chewy pigs’ ears and buckwheat groats, the worst of jitrnice because it cost dearly at $2.95 the pound, twice the hourly wages father Roman earned at Ebenezer Foster’s factory north of town, the food processing plant Best Maid Zelnicky, which specialized in manufacturing a host of beloved Czech delicacies like Vepřo Knedlo Zelo and Bramboračka. Ebenezer was an heir of the town’s trout fishing founder, a Harvard grad. Eb was seldom concerned for his employee’s welfare. But Tiny’s excitement warmed his father Roman’s heart and he sprung for one whole ½ inch slice of the delicious pig’s-ear concoction, fully aware that his family of 10 would only get a taste on Christmas Day.

And what of Ebenezer Foster on this Eve of this most glorious day? After locking up his factory for the long weekend, the wizened old gentleman purchased a liter of 190 proof grain alcohol, but was delayed by his fun-loving nephew Dick who urged him to join with his friends for a riotous night at Tattersall, but was met with an emphatic “Bah Humbug!” Ebenezer headed for his crumbling mansion on Walnut Street where he made himself a canister of hot toddies to imbibe while spending  the evening going over his account books and considering a foreclosure or two. 

Sadly, his quest to save money by imbibing cheap grain alcohol crept up on the sour old man, whose logo was proclaimed on his Best Maid plant entrance “Yes I’m Sour and so are my made-from-scratch Zelnickys!!” Soon he was fast asleep and dreaming of long forgotten friends, who came to remind him of the rewards of his niggardliness. First came a lady friend from his past, then Jacob Marley, his former partner, next came a college chum, Aldrich Ames, the disgraced Soviet double agent, who greeted him with a rattle of his chains. “Good God!” exclaimed Ebenezer “Aldrich Ames in chains for his love of filthy lucre. I must change my ways lest these habits lead me down the primrose path to Hell.  Without his greed Aldrich might have achieved tenure and stayed on at his grandfather’s Normal school!”

Christmas morning dawned and Ebenezer awakened. He jumped out of his straw-mattress bed, dressed and headed west on Walnut, then south on Main, which was lit up for Christmas as were many of its pedestrians. He entered Emma’s Bar and ordered a case of Captain Morgan’s Rum to be delivered to the Timmerman family at Fox’s Trailer Court and was gone in a flash to Aldi’s Market, where an astonished clerk sold him a case of Jitrnice, after which he called for “Just One Christmas Goose!’

“Sorry, sir. To get the advertised special you must purchase 10 or more geese.”

“Well then make it 10! No, make it 20 geese. We’ll feed the whole town. I feel just great!’’

And on that same Christmas Day also feeling great were the Timmermans, the Jadineks, the Cliszczes, the Kozaks, the Kusileks, the Matzeks, the Pechaceks, the Svobodas, the Veselys, the Ptaceks, the Kozels, the Simeks and the Mareks as well as one Kafka in Prague, God bless them, everyone!

And Ebenezer Foster? He honored the spirit of Christmas all the year. He sent Tiny Tomas to River Falls Area Hospital where doctors healed him immediately. He promoted Roman Timmerman to the position of Best Maid factory ombudsman to adjudicate any employee complaint, however trivial. And he gave 10 percent of his pre-tax earnings to the Kinnickinnic Land Trust. These were far, far better things he did than he had ever done before. 

Merry Christmas everyone!