2020: A Winter Tale Served Cold

In 1960, he put his name to a collection of children’s stories; “Danny Kaye’s Stories From Faraway Places.” It’s a surprisingly deep set of tales, several of which have stuck in my head for decades. 

Growing up in Western Montana, where the summer is short and winter abundant, a favorite of these tales was “The Candle In The Darkness.” Something I saw last year in Lafayette Square reminded me of the story, so let me set it up with a brief and probably inaccurate retelling. 

The Candle In The Darkness

Russian winters make those of St. Louis seem balmy. Up there, much closer to the Arctic Circle, people mostly stay inside by the fire when they can, which leads to conversation, which sometimes leads to competition.

Early one winter evening, Yuri sat by the hearth at an inn with three of his friends. They began comparing their own various deeds of strength and bravery. As these stories tumbled from his comrades, Yuri felt unaccomplished and less than valiant. Eager to stake a claim and prove his mettle, he announced to the others that he was capable of withstanding prolonged cold effortlessly. The others called him on this, and demanded proof of his boast.

He offered, perhaps unwisely, to stay outside in the snow without his greatcoat, until the sun rose the following day. He would take no comfort from fire nor any source of heat during the long arctic night. This would continue until his friends called on him in the morning. If he proved insufficient to the task, Yuri would have to prepare a fine feast for the others. With that, he bade his friends good night, and stepped outside. 

A cold night begins

The evening was calm but bitterly cold. No stars nor moon shone above, as the sky was solidly overcast. Soon a light snow began to fall. Yuri paced back and forth to keep his circulation going, while marveling at how slowly the time passed. 

A great loneliness enveloped him, alone in the night. Yuri couldn’t help but stare at the eastern skyline, in hopes of any faint trace of light beginning to break. But the night remained unfriendly and dark. The unfortunate man began feeling the urge to lie down and sleep, despite knowing he might well freeze to death in the act. He kicked through the snow and tried to warm himself with anger at his foolishness for having made such a silly bet. 

Yuri then noticed something new and stopped in his tracks. Far off, someone lighted a candle, that he could see through a distant window. It cast a tiny glow that Yuri could barely make out through the fluttering snow. It seemed warm, constant and comforting, a reassurance that he wasn’t completely alone in the dark and cold. 

The warmth of a distant light

No longer afraid, he stared at the faraway light, and made it past four o’clock, five o’clock, until finally there appeared a little slit of light on the horizon. It grew brighter, and finally burst into a glorious full sun.

Yuri stumbled to his house on feet that felt nothing, and lit a fire in his hearth. Yuri didn’t know if the new warmth he felt was coming from the fireplace, or the knowledge that he had proven himself to his friends. 

Shortly afterward, those comrades came to check on their wager. When they learned that Yuri accomplished his feat, they were amazed, and asked how he managed it. Yuri replied that it was very difficult. He reached a moment of crisis when he thought he had lost, but a small candle in a faraway window encouraged him to tough it out.

“Ah! A candle! Then you did have a source of warmth, as a candle gives off heat.” 

Yuri protested that it couldn’t possibly have provided any real comfort to him, as it was at the far end of the village. His friends were unmoved by this argument. They demanded that he prepare them a fine dinner that evening. Yuri sadly conceded, telling them to return that evening. 

A reckoning at dinner

When the sun again went down, the three friends arrived at Yuri’s home. None of them had eaten since seeing him. They wanted to save space for a great feast. As the men sat, laughing and talking, Yuri worked in the kitchen. They waited and waited; appetites growing by the minute. The guests inquired about their dinner frequently. Yuri shouted in reply that nothing was ready yet, and to be patient.

Smelling no signs of food cooking, the men grew impatient, asking if they could possibly help with the preparation, or eat something now and wait for the rest to be fully cooked later. Yuri apologized, and explained that everything was in one pot, so everyone would just have to wait. 

When their impatience got the best of them, the three friends barged into the kitchen doorway and then stood there with their mouths agape, speechless. Hanging from the high ceiling was a large cookpot. Far below the pot, on the floor was a lighted candle. Yuri was on a tall chair, craning his neck to see into the pot. 

He turned to them innocently and said; I’m sorry, my friends, that the meal is cooking so slowly. Please wait just a little more – the candle does put out heat. You told me so yourselves. 

A real life parallel

I wrote that story in order to write you this one. My intrepid dog and I were out in Lafayette Park, on a day so raw and grey that we saw no one else during a long lap around the inside of the fence. As we walked along Missouri Avenue, we happened to see a small light in the distance; something like this: 

I was reminded of having met  the owner, who told me the cat is a non-resident who moved one day onto his front porch, and never left. Being a kind sort, he set a small bed on the porch for the cat’s comfort, and a heat lamp has served, during the last couple of winters, just to take the chill off. 

Regardless of your feelings toward felines, you have to admit that it adds some warmth to an otherwise grey and blustery day.

Credits

Danny Kaye’s Stories From Faraway Places; Random House; New York; 1960. Also the source of the illustrations used.

Adapted from the short story The Candle Gives Off Heat; as told in Tales of the Near East; Leslie Leavitt;

(Both of the above are regrettably out of print)

Photo of Danny Kaye from The Museum Of Family History; Stephen Lasky at http://www.museumoffamilyhistory.com/lia-bklyn-kaye.htm