Miracle of Canadian Bacon on Fifth Avenue

I bought a Christmas tree this week from the French Canadian elves who are selling pines from Nova Scotia on Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn. Those of you in the 11217 zip code, you know the ones--they're camped right outside Key Food. The guy who sold me my tree said he was born in Quebec City, raised in Montreal, and told me that he learned a lot of English by watching Growing Pains and The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. I walked by their camp last night and I swear I heard "Take Off" by the McKenzie Brothers coming out of the radio they had in their tent. Maybe this is only making me laugh. Maybe I'm the only one left on earth who, when this time of year rolls around, prays that she will chance upon hearing their version of "The 12 Days of Christmas". ("Good day. And welcome to day twelve.") It cheered me up because earlier in the evening, on the way to meet a friend, a homeless guy in a wheelchair asked me for change. I was in a hurry and, of course, didn't feel like I could stop to see what I had in my bag. Although I certainly could and should have. I knew I would pay for it. And I did. "I'm gonna tell God on you, lady," he said to my back. I wanted to say something like "God already knows I'm a shithead," but that would not have helped anyone.