The Unknown Reindeer, Denny the Ditz, and Why He Did Not Make Santa's Team

by Minnie Apolis
[This is an original story by Minnie Apolis and it is copyrighted 2010.]

PART ONE

To be charitable, none of Santa's reindeer are very bright, so it was very unfair to single out Denny the Ditz as being a, um, simpleton. The fact that when he was told to take a hike, he actually went out the doors and took a walk in the woods should not be held against him. The fact that sometimes he pasted a clown nose on his snout should not be held against him, even tho Rudolf took it as a personal insult.

None of the reindeer were ever going to solve the problem of the missing mass of the universe. None of them were ever going to sniff out a frozen kid in the snow and get hailed as a hero. None of them was even going to remember their place in the harness, for Pete's sake, so we will just have to cut them a little slack here.

Don't get me wrong, they were all decent, hard-working four-legged folk who never went to school a day in their lives, so who am I to judge? I'm just saying that sometimes, lowered expectations can save everyone a lot of grief.

A Tale of Two Reindeer Buddies 
 
Denny the Ditz (everyone called him that) was just the average reindeer. He liked to cut up in front of the other little reindeer, when they all should have been paying attention to instructions. But he wasn't a BAD boy, not at all. He just wanted some attention, and I can't blame anyone for that.

So let me explain what Denny was like. He was of average size and build, maybe on the scrawny side. Liked dessert. Pulled the girls' pigtails. A very average kid.

Now McKenzie was a bit smarter than the average reindeer, though that isn't saying much. But he tried to look out for Denny, and keep him out of trouble. If Denny got upset because he couldn't understand something, McKenzie would sit by him till he calmed down, then show him how to do it.

This sounds so nice and simple. But when Denny was upset, he did not just sit down or scrunch up his face or even cry. He made a SCENE.

Take the day that the whole class of yearlings was first introduced to the harness.
This was such a simple lesson. All the class had to do was walk around the playground, hooked up to a long harness with each other. They did not even have to PULL anything, just propel their own body weight plus a few ounces of leather. Was that so difficult? You would have thought that the teachers expected them to haul the entire temple of Abu Simbel from Egypt to the North Pole, the way that Denny carried on.

He'd flop down and moan "Why are you doing this to me?" over and over. Then he'd get up, hobble forward a couple feet, and flop down and wail for another five or ten minutes. This could get annoying after oh, a whole afternoon of this. The only reason he moved forward at all was that the other reindeer were all pulling on the harness and half-dragging him along. He was just making more work for the rest of them, and so they all started to hate him.

Meanwhile MacKenzie would follow him around from flop to flop, and lie down next to him. He was a year older, so he was not anchored to the harness. This was very fortunate otherwise the harness would have gotten hopelessly tangled.

Though Denny and MacKenzie were both members of the same species, they could not be more unlike each other. As I have said, Denny was, shall we say, mentally challenged. Perhaps I am being harsh, and he was merely suffering from low self-esteem issues. 

Perhaps he came from a severely dysfunctional family, leaving him stressed by every demand made upon him. Perhaps he was even a victim of PTSD, possibly after a sleigh blew up, or some mass murderer visited the North Pole.

But MacKenzie was a sweet, kind, long-suffering soul who only tried to make everyone happy.

Learning to Fly - Not

This brings me to the current matter of trying to proceed with Denny's training as a reindeer, as a proper member of Santa's working herd. Eventually he got over his fear of being strapped in to the harness. But then had trouble getting the hang of flying.

Denny was hitched up with the other trainees in a harness. He had finally accepted these ropy strips of leather tying him to the other reindeer. He had given up pretending he was being hung; he used to hold the harness up from his neck, like a man pretending he was being hung by his necktie.

The next phase of training was to learn to fly. This is a bit similar to the scene in the first Harry Potter movie when the class is introduced to brooms for the first time, and most of the class cannot make the broom rise off the ground.

The reindeer ran around the training ground in circles for an hour. Some of the reindeer started to float right away. Some were jumping up as they ran, trying to get airborne. Then there was Denny. As luck would have it, he was behind another student who was a natural flier. And what was Denny doing? Denny was grabbing that reindeer's hooves and jerking them down to the ground.

"I DON'T WANT TO FLY UP," he yelled at the deer ahead of him, who was named Sandy. Sandy craned his head around to stare at this lunatic, Denny, who did not seem to know that they were born to fly.

"I LIKE having my feet on terra firma!!" Denny yelled. The other deer who were near enough to hear him started to giggle.

The teacher, Miss Deerfield, could not see or hear what was going on. She stomped over to where the line had stalled to a dead stop. "WHAT on earth is going on here? Did someone call a lunch break and forget to tell me about it?" she asked sarcastically.
(Sarcasm did not become her.)

Denny by this time was writhing on the ground in agonized fear of being airborne. Mackenzie had joined him at this point, and was sitting next to him, whining softly.
Denny wept a bucket of tears while declaiming how much he liked having his feet on 'terra firma' as he kept calling it. Actually they lived year-round on a layer of perma frost, which is NOT so 'firma' as you might think, but that is another matter.

"I'M GONNA DIE IF YOU DRAG ME UP IN THE AIR," he screamed. "IF WE WERE MEANT TO FLY, WE WOULDA BEEN BORN WITH WINGS AND FEATHERS," he continued.

"Stop that nonsense this instant," Miss Deerfield scolded him. After about an hour and a half of his hysterical flopping and crying, Miss Deerfield sent him to the school psychologist for evaluation and counseling.

His mother, Mrs. Derry Browning, received a letter from Miss Deerfield about it.

"Dear Mrs. Browning," the letter began.
"After several attempts to convince young Denny that reindeer do indeed fly, and it does not kill them, the school has decided that perhaps he might benefit from some counseling.
"I hope that you will sign the attached permission slip, which will allow the school psychologist to conduct an evaluation of young Denny's emotional preparedness for reindeer school.
"It is hoped that young Denny will overcome his mental block in regards to flying, and rejoin his fellow pupils in the class. I am sure that young Denny will make a fine addition to Santa's flight crew one day, and be a credit to the race of reindeer."
"Signed, Yours Truly, Miss Deerfield," it ended.

Well, you can imagine the consternation in the Browning household when Mr. and Mrs. Browning received this letter. They discussed it, of course, like well-adjusted couples do. And they decided that if that was what it took to help young Denny learn to be a proper reindeer, well then, they just had to let the counselor talk to him and hope for the best.
Denny Goes to the School Counselor

"How long have you had this fear of heights?" the counselor asked Denny.
(to be continued)

PART TWO

"How long have you had this fear of flying?" the doctor asked Denny, who was lying stiffly on the couch.

"I dunno, about as long as I've known that we were expected to fly. I mean, about as long as I knew that most of us reindeer can fly," Denny replied.

"I see," the doctor replied. "And how do your parents react when you panic at the thought of flying?"

"Well they mostly are embarrassed. Mom will say, 'oh for heavens sake, Denny, stop making such a big thing of it.' And dad just clears his throat and asks if I'm OK."

"I see. Does this make you feel better or worse, the way that your parents react?" the doctor asked.

"Well, I dunno. It doesn't seem to help, that's for sure."

"Have you ever had any bad things happen when you've flown, like when you were a baby?" the doctor inquired.

"Not that I remember. Do you want me to ask mom and dad about that?" Denny replied. He looked puzzled when he tried to remember back to being a baby. There was almost something there, but he couldn't bring up a memory.

"Well, you could ask them. Maybe they don't remember anything, either. But it's worth asking them or a grandmother, or whoever might recall. It's OK if nothing comes up," the doctor assured Denny.

Denny walked home, kicking a soccer ball all the way. He'd much rather play soccer than fly. So who passed a law, anyway, that all reindeer had to fly? It was un-American, is what it was.

Then he remembered. He's not American, anyway. He lived in Lapland.

OK, then. He'd emigrate to America, land of the free, home of the brave and all that jazz. He'd have to go to Ellis Island, and tell them that he left his native land on political grounds. He objected to the reindeer government that mandated all reindeer learn how to fly. That made him a political prisoner, didn't it? Right.

He would get an agent and sign a contract for a gazillion dollars to play soccer in the US of A. That would show 'em all back in fuddy-duddy Lapland. Flying reindeer are a dime a dozen. Reindeer that can play soccer, now you're talking.

His daydream was interrupted by an old lady. "You want to play soccer? Play in the street, alright already, instead of bouncing balls off little old ladies," she harrumphed. She was good at harrumphing.

Denny picked up his soccer ball and ran the rest of the way home. It was only a couple blocks.

Denny burst in the door and was greeted by the smell of spaghetti and meatballs, one of his favorite meals.

"Hi, mom," he said as he hugged her. He liked the smell of her and of her apron. The apron had smells of flour and bread and cookies she had baked. She was a good mom, he thought to himself.

"Go wash your hands before supper. Dinner will be on the table in about ten minutes," his mom told him.

Denny parked his soccer ball in the breezeway and trotted down the hall to the bathroom to wash up. As he passed the living room, he said 'hi, dad' to his father, who was parked in his chair, reading the paper, the Midnight Sun. "Hello son," he replied, "how was your day?"

Denny said nothing happened.

Denny started washing his hands and decided his face felt sticky, too. He lathered up his whole face and rinsed off. He decided he felt a lot better as he toweled himself dry.

Denny dug into the spaghetti and waited for the right moment to ask about any accidents in babyhood. When mom put dishes of spumoni in front of him and his dad, he decided now was the time.

"Mom, did anything ever happen to me when I was a baby? Like falling or something? Or getting dropped, stuff like that?" he asked.

"Gee, no, not that I can remember. I mean, you had the usual skinned knees and things like that, but nothing really unusual. Why do you ask?" mom replied.

"Oh, it's just the doc's idea that maybe I got the fear of flying from some accident in babyhood. That's all," he said glumly. He had kind of hoped that there'd be some grisly story about a tragic accident, that he'd been tossed off the roof by a mean older cousin and was lucky to survive. Or that he'd fallen off his mom's back when he was a toddler, while she was flying, and he'd fallen 200 feet before dad flew down to catch him before he would have smashed himself to smithereens on the hard frozen ground. A story that he could dramatize to good effect, and get lots of sympathy for.

Nuts. No such luck. He'd wasted all that work developing some really good sound effects to help tell the story.

"But what was funny was that when you were little, you could fly in your sleep," mom said.
"I did what?" Denny asked.

"You flew in your sleep. All the time. I'd tuck you into bed really tight, but it didn't help. You always floated up like you were dreaming of flying or something."

"I flew in my sleep??? What good is that, anyway? And did I outgrow it or what?" Denny was just full of questions. He remembered nothing about this.

His dad chimed in. "Well, you were about the best natural flyer I ever did see," dad boasted. "You could just about touch the ceiling when you were no bigger than a tadpole. All you needed work on was your landings."

"Oh, my, yes. Those landings were pretty rough," mom added. "Fortunately you only fell a few feet, so it wasn't going to hurt you any. But it was like you came to the end of the dream or whatever, and you just plum dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes." She had to chuckle at the memory, even though it was a bit nerve-racking at the time.

"I was the best natural flyer??? I was the best natural flyer???" Denny kept saying. He was stunned. Here he had always thought that he had absolutely NO talent for flying, whatsoever. And here dad tells him he was the best natural flyer he ever saw.

He needed some time to wrap his head around that. He thought about this new piece of information all evening, while watching cartoons, while doing homework, while brushing his teeth before bed, and lying in bed in the dark.

"I was the best natural flyer???" He just needed some more time to wrap his head around this. Maybe a year, maybe a decade. Twenty years, tops.

That night he had a dream. (Sorry if this sounds too hokey.) Anyway, that night he had a dream. It was the most awesome dream he'd ever had. He was flying. And he LIKED it. He LOVED it.

He flew all over the town, looking down on the school and city hall and churches and everything. And then he flew all over the world. He flew to the Bahamas and looked at the flamingos. He flew to New York and looked at the Statue of Liberty, up close and personal. He flew to jungles and looked at the monkeys and parrots. He flew everywhere, and everything looked so beautiful and amazing that he did not want to come back to his own bed.

When he woke up he felt incredible, like he had really flown all over the world and was a big hero like Charles Lindburgh. With a ticker tape parade and everything. He felt like Superman.

He hop, skipped and jumped all the way to school that morning. His jumps were like mini-flights, though. He leaped about twenty yards by the time he was at the school.
At his next visit to the doctor, he told about his babyhood propensity for flying while asleep.

"What I don't understand is, if I was such a natural at flying while I was a baby, why didn't I want to fly at all when I was old enough for school?" he asked the doc.

"Well, there could be many reasons for that. But I suspect the fact that the landings were so unpleasant for you, pretty well turned you off to flying. It's like you were programmed not to fly, by associating it with a negative result, such as the painful landings. That's what I would guess, anyway," he explained to Denny.

That made perfect sense to Denny.

Since he'd been bumped out of the flying class the previous semester, he had to start over in the following semester. Well, he passed with ahem, flying colors. (sorry)

He was scared in his first flying class back. His knees shook when he was concentrating on his liftoff. But he made his running start, and jumped, and only went about five feet. That was nothing. But on his next turn, he jumped for all he was worth, and got airborne. Airborne! Wow, did that feel terrific. He flew about a hundred feet and while his landing was a bit clumsy, he kept his feet.

After the first semester of flying lessons, he even joined the air polo team. It's like regular polo or water polo, except you fly while carrying a two-legged player. You can see Denny on the far left side of the winning all-conference championship team.

He also served in student government, and played flute in the band. He was a well-rounded student.

But because of the delay in passing reindeer flight education certification, he missed being picked for Santa's team. You had to be tracked early to get into that elite unit.

However, when he graduated he was hired by the Lapland Postal Service, where he served with distinction for many years. He held a perfect on-time delivery record, and he never lost a letter. Upon his retirement, he was awarded the Lapland Postal Service Golden Wings Medal of Honor, which came with a handsome pension.

With those funds he took care of his wife and aging parents, and even provided a scholarship for poor reindeer children to go on to school. His own grand-reindeer were of course sent to the best schools in Lapland, too, and some of them DID make it onto Santa's team. So there.

Copyright Minnie Apolis 2010