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MERRY FROM JERRY...a child's holiday story
by
James Hiram Malone


Jerry Jones lived in the dirt-roads town of Oakville, during the 1930’s Depression. A week before Christmas, his father told him that he wouldn’t be getting a new bicycle.
“It’s hard times now,” said his father, hugging Jerry. “We folks, in these tenement housing just can’t afford it.”
Jerry, nine years old, went outside and sat on his bicycle, which he had outgrown. He was youthfully slim and several inches taller than last year. His legs were too long for the pedals. His feet dragged on the ground. He had to lean forward onto the low handlebars.
Jerry walked his bicycle into his back yard. His father had a limited toolbox on the porch. “Maybe if I raised the seat and handlebars higher ” Jerry said to himself.
As the cool sun beamed over his shoulder, Jerry, who had his father’s warm brown face, grabbed the pliers. Grunting, he tried to unlock the bicycle seat chassis’ screw. Banging it loose, after using oil, he pulled up the rod. The seat rose higher.
Tightening up the screw again, he bruised his finger.
“Gotta fix these crazy handlebars,” said Jerry, as he pushed and tugged with both hands. Ten minutes later he unscrewed the bolt. He wiggled the handlebars so hard while working the flange, that he fell onto the ground.
“Maybe I should’ve asked dad to help me,” he said. Then, he got back up, and tightened the handlebars, now jutting skyward, himself.
After sweating and dirtying his clothes, Jerry leaned against the porch. He nursed his aching finger. When he re-entered the house, his father handed him a Christmas card gift substitute.
“Hey! Thanks a lot, Dad,” Jerry smiled but he stayed awake all night dreaming of a new bicycle.
“It’s five days ’fore Christmas,” said Jerry, getting back to his fixing.
Then, when he stood by his bicycle, it appeared to be taller. Jerry mounted his bicycle and it WAS his size. “My feet don’t drag the ground!” he shouted. “I don’t have to droop down in front to hold the handlebars! I’ve made this thing right!”
“WOW!” said Jerry, “gotta show it off!” He sped to his nearby friend, Freddie Franco’s house.
“Hey, you got a new bike?!” yelled Freddie, running across his no-grass lawn to meet Jerry. “Never seen a bike like yours.”
“Meet the ‘Merry From Jerry Bike,’ Freddie,” Jerry grinned. “I just raised the
seat and turned the handlebars straight up as high as the sky.”
Then, Jerry circled his bicycle around Freddie and squeaked on the brakes.
“Where’s your bike, Freddie?”
“My stubby bike ain’t as good as yours, Jerry,” said Freddie, rolling his bicycle from the side of the house.
“I know, pal. Mine was a runt, too”
“Gonna help me out, buddy?”
“Yeah,” said Jerry, as he opened up the pouch he had brought along with him. It contained, pliers, screwdriver, and an oil can. “I’ll need your help on this.”
They raised the height of the bicycle seat and turned up the handlebars. In an hour they were finished.
Freddie mounted his bicycle to check the size. He peddled out of the yard with his auburn hair blowing in the wind. Then, he quickly came back and skidded to a stop in front of Jerry.
“Hey! You did it, Jerry!” Freddie said, speeding away and making another circle. “Thanks, ole buddy!”
“Merry Christmas, Freddie!”
“Merry, yourself, Jerry!” laughed Freddie. “Let’s zoom outta here!”
“I’m ready, Freddie!” said Jerry.
As the boys raced around Oakville, they saw a rusting bicycle next to a trashcan.
They stopped. With Jerry’s pouch of tools, they pushed, pulled, and stretched it into high shape. Finished, they moved the bicycle to the front door. Jerry wrote a

“ MERRY FROM JERRY !!”

note on it and they left.

As they started back home, they saw more discarded bicycles scattered about in the shanty town.
“Too many bikes for us to house call,” Freddie said sadly.
“We won’t have to,” said Jerry, with a Christmas spirit smile. “They’ll come to
our FREE-FIX-IT-SHOP!”
“Yeah, in your back yard,” said Freddie. “Let’s get the word out all over Oakville!”
Jerry and Freddie ran and asked Mr. Stein, the Corner Candy Store Man, to spread the wor

Dirt bikes are huge at our house for our older boys. They have lots of dirt bike toys and break them just as quickly as they get them.