Christmas Day 2007. Reel the calendar back to Christmas morning 1918. A sleepy three-year old boy wakes up to a glorious and exciting scene–a small Christmas tree covered with blazing candles. Yes, those were the days when candles were used on Christmas trees, a flammable situation that burned down a good many houses. With the father carefully monitoring each tiny flame, no bad thing happened . But to the child nothing he would ever see on a Christmas the rest of his life would equal the wonder of that morning.
Scroll ahead two years to Christmas eve 1920. The family was poor. The heavy snows of the past weeks made it impossible to get to town and if they could there was no money. The five-year-old was asking if Santa would come, not too sure that Santa was real but still wanting to believe. "Will there be a tree for him to put the presents under?" asked the boy. "Do you see any trees?" "No Mama." "He may not be able to make it this year, son; still maybe we can have a tree. You and I will just see if we can make one." She took an axe and together they trudged through knee-deep snow to a patch of ground cedar and chopped out an arm load of cedar branches. Back at the kitchen table, she took a broomstick, anchored it in a rock-filled gallon can. and proceeded to tie the cedar branches to the stick. The youngster was allowed to hold the pieces as she tied them on to make a small but lovely tree. The next morning there was only home-made cookies and an orange under the tree. It didn’t matter. It was his tree , his Christmas, his pride in being a part of something beautiful. In later years he would appreciate how the mother had made something beautiful out of practically nothing.
POLITICS
Memo to Democrats: Am I missing something? In all the literature , the speeches, the television ads, I have not seen or heard a Grand Vision for America promulgated. I believe the candidate who does so will have an edge, especially if he or she is a Democrat. I’m not sure we would trust a vision put forth by a Republican.
POETRY
Here’s a little piece that’s always a hit at my readings, partly because it is a true story
LINES TO A WIFE WHO WORKS (From a Husband who doesn’t)
Darling, you must have been a princess
With your flashing raven hair,
A Babylonian princess tripping lightly down
A some once golden stair,
I was your faithful slave
At beck for your every whim
As you drove your milk-white chariot
Through the streets of Zabalim,
There came a day you smiled on me
And I blushed hot to be so graced
Henceforth, through every incarnation
That smile of yours I traced
And now as then, I’m still your slave
And bring you coffee for your sleepy head
That you may get to work on time
While I crawl back in bed.
From Blue Flame ~ Selected Poems by R. Dean Tribble
TODAY’S HAIKU is by Phil Wahl from free haiku Internet zine.
The flap of a bat,
drip drip of monsoon waters.
Ancient image stares.
I love the mystery that these images conjure up. I hope you do to.
May all good things be yours, dear readers, in the coming year.