A VERY RASPBERRY CHRISTMAS

May Marcia
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

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Here's a story from a boy, Samuel, and the trouble his brother, Michael, caused one Christmas.

Copyright 1994 Sam Franc

Look at that face!


You will love him, like I do, when you hear his story. 

  
    

A VERY RASPBERRY CHRISTMAS

By

Sam Franc

thegraphicsfairy.com

My brother, Michael...(most of my stories start with that statement)...was nine years old that fateful Christmas.   

I was six years old.  

Michael was going through a stage 
                   where he liked to play with  f i r e.  

My family is Jewish.  We celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas. 

I know.  Most Jews don't have Christmas trees, but we're Messianic Jews, and Mom really likes to decorate things. 

My brother, Michael, thought it would be pretty to light the Menorah under the Christmas tree, and take a picture.

He did it.  He sat the Menorah under the Christmas tree, 

and lit it.  

A little part of the tree caught on  f i r e.   

All my family (Mom; Dad; my brother, Tommy; Grandma, Grandpa and me) were in the kitchen.  We had no idea what happened, and my brother, Michael, wasn't about to tell us.

My brother, Michael,  thought there might be something inside one of the packages under the tree that would help him extinguish the small  f i r e. 

My brother, Michael, grabbed one of the presents and opened it. Inside was an aerosol can.  Not knowing what it was, my (nine-year old) brother, Michael, sprayed the contents of the can on the tree, with the hope  that it would put out the f i r e.

The can was actually filled with Mom's favorite, expensive raspberry hair spray.  It cost about $30 a can.

Mom, Dad, Tommy, Grandma, Grandpa, and me heard clinging and clanging, and ran from the kitchen in to the living room as fast as we could.  

F i r e consumed the entire tree.

Mom's beautiful tree was burning.  Ornaments fell from its branches.

My brother, Michael,  just stood there in amazement.  He never even noticed we were there.  He was so amazed in fact,  he captured the moment in pictures with the camera dad gave to him.  

We were flabergasted:  "What just happened?"

The funny thing is...the entire tree burned, but nothing else caught on  f i r e.

My grandpa, the rabbi, laughed hysterically.  

Mom didn't laugh at all.  I'm not sure if she was more mad that my brother, Michael, wasted her expensive raspberry hair spray - or the fact that her tree was in ashes.

Mom walked over to get a good look.  All that was left where her beautiful tree stood was her melting ornaments,  our presents (now covered in charcoal), and our tree topper:  the Star of David, which had been a Franc family treasure for three generations.  It survived - surprisingly unharmed, and stood upright on top of the heap of ashes.  

No one can explain how that happened.

Mom's eye began to twitch - like it always does when she gets mad.  We all knew  my brother, Michael, was in trouble.

My brother, Michael,  turned around and took a picture of the whole family's shocked expressions, and then he ran upstairs and locked himself in his room.

Mom picked up a few of the ashes of her tree in her hand, and watched as the ashes slipped through her fingers.  Grandpa said she was in shock. 

Mom didn't  bother cleaning up the tree that day.  She left everything just as it was.  No one was allowed to touch it.

We went on like nothing happened.  We watched television, and opened our charcoal gifts around the heap of ashes.   We didn't have to tear our gifts open.  The charcoal gift wrap fell off easily.

Every time my brother, Michael,  came close to Mom...her eye began to twitch, although she didn't say a word.

Two days passed, and Mom was still in shock.  

I asked Dad to take me to a forest.  I wanted to find a tree for Mom just as beautiful as the one my brother, Michael,  burned down.  It had to be something I could carry home.  I wanted to do it all by my six-year-old self.

Dad and I hunted for about an hour or two and then - there it was!

"I want to cut this tree down, and bring it home to Mom."

Dad offered to help me cut down the tree that was five feet tall, and much bigger than me, but I refused his help.

"Alright, son.  Don't hurt yourself."  He leaned against another tree and watched me.

I chopped and chopped and chopped for about 45 minutes,  until I cut down that tree.

"Watch out, Dad!  Don't let the tree smoosh you on the way down."

My arms were sore, but I felt like Paul Bunyan.

I rested a bit, and drank some apple juice.

Dad helped me tie a rope on the tree and then around my shoulders like a backpack.   I dragged that five-foot tree behind me.

"Do you want me to help you carry it, son?"  Dad said.

"NO!  I can do this."

Step by step...

It seemed like it took us forever to get to the car.   There were trees to walk through, and pinecones and pine needles and deer fecal matter everywhere on the snow covered ground.  

I thought:  "This must be what it was like for the pioneers."

Finally,  Dad and I saw the car about 100 yards out.

We were almost there.

My tree felt surprisingly light.    

"I must be getting stronger," I thought.

Dad didn't say a word. 

When we were about 50 feet away from the car,  I started running.

I ran to the car with the tree behind me, and tagged the car like it was home base!

I untied the string that was tied on my shoulders like a backpack, and  turned around.  To my amazement - my once full beautiful five-foot tree was reduced to a log and two spindly branches.

Dad sighed, and said:  "Samuel, I didn't know how to tell you.  Still - this might be the most beautiful tree I have ever seen.  Let's get it home to your mom so she can decorate it."

I felt better about my little tree.  We loaded it on top of the car.  It looked more like a piece of firewood with two arms.  

My five-foot tree was more like a three-foot tree.  

I'm not sure what happened to the rest of it.

On the drive home, Dad and I discussed theories about what happened to the tree.  We concluded a family of beavers were hungry, and they needed to feed their children, so they ate my tree. 

See?  I fed the hungry beavers.  

Dad agreed.  

It made me happy.  

We pulled up in the driveway at home, and I couldn't wait to show mom the tree I got her.

Dad helped me unload it.    

"This is what we'll do, Samuel.  I'll go ring the doorbell and you can be the tree delivery man."

Grandma, Grandpa,and my brothers, Michael and Tommy were watching television.  Mom was still staring at the ashes of her old tree when Dad rang the doorbell.

My brother, Michael, opened the door.  He looked down at my tree and laughed:  "You guys have been gone all this time, and you brought back a piece of firewood with two arms?"

"No, Michael.  Let me in, and I will educate you," I said.

I dragged the tree inside, and put it on top of the ashes.  I picked up the Star of David, and set it on top of the tree.  

I sat in front of it.

"Family, I want to tell you something," I announced.

They listened,  because Grandpa says when someone wants to talk...you listen.

I had their attention.

"Mom, here is your Christmas tree...unlike the one my brother, Michael, burned.  It might not be as pretty, but I chopped it all by myself....and I fed homeless beavers along the way."

No one spoke for what seemed like forever.

My brother, Michael, laughed and took a picture of my tree.

Mom finally got off the sofa, and walked toward me.  She pulled me me in her arms and hugged me.  She started to cry, and my mom is not a crying woman - ever.

"Samuel, there is only one thing I can say about this.  This is the most beautiful tree I have ever seen.  I see no flaws in it."

She gathered up the melted ornaments and began to stick them on my tree.  She wrapped red and green velvet ribbon around my tree, and added tiny little multicolored Christmas lights.  

Grandma started to clean up the ashes, but Mom made my brother, Michael, do it.   

Grandma made a rule that year:  "If you ever  buy a gift that will cause a fire  - do NOT wrap it."

Mom kept looking at the tree.  She wasn't in shock anymore.  But for the next week or two every time she looked at my brother, Michael, her eye began to twitch. 

Our house smelled like raspberry hair spray for at least one week.  Mom said the smell must have stayed in the curtains.

Dad never bought Mom raspberry hair spray again, but

every year since - someone buys my brother, Michael, a can of  raspberry hair spray.

Christmas 2011,  Grandmother gave us permission to break her rule about NOT wrapping flammable items.  The word got out and everybody in the family bought my brother, Michael, the same gift.  That year my brother, Michael,  unwrapped 18 cans of  raspberry hair spray.

 

A VERY RASPBERRY CHRISTMAS

 By

Sam Franc

 Raspberry Hair Spray

CLICK on the link or COPY & PASTE the link in your browser:

http://images.search.yahoo.com/search/images?_adv_prop=image&fr=mcafee&va=raspberry+hairspray

Thanks for stopping by!

Come back often, and invite a friend!

Mary Marcia

America's STORYTELLER

Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

Blogger at: http://tellmeastory-marcia.blogspot.com/

 

WHERE'S THE LINE?

Mary Marcia
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

 JOURNEY TO CHRISTMAS 

WHERE'S THE LINE?

We've all done it.

Well - most parents have done it.

I've done it:

• driven over the river and through the woods to the mall; 
• fought for a parking space; 
• pushed through the crowds;
• only to stand in a long line to see Santa.

But not merely to see Santa.

The object of this Christmas adventure is to implore (beg earnestly, beseech, entreat) children to sit on the lap of a stranger with a long white beard, wearing a velvet red suit and black boots. 

The ultimate purpose?

To take a memorable Christmas photograph of the children on Santa's lap.

Hilarious "Scared Kid" Santa Photos

 CLICK on the link or COPY & PASTE the link in your browser:  

http://thestir.cafemom.com/toddler/129585/7_hilarious_scared_kid_santa 

I listened to Brenda Lee sing this song when I was a little girl in the 50's.  

 Song: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

http://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video?p=youtube+brenda+lee+i+saw+mommy+kissing+santa+claus

Have you done it?

Have you ever forced your child to sit on Santa's lap?

British Kids Can't Sit on Santa's Lap

 CLICK on the link or COPY & PASTE the link in your browser:  

 http://radio.foxnews.com/toddstarnes/todds-favorites/kids-cant-sit-on-santas-lap.html

My parents did it.

They forced me to sit on Santa's lap...at Macys, where the tradition of sitting on Santa's lap started. 

I had no problem talking to Santa, but  I must have been a little bit nervous.  The 1953 Christmas photo shows me at (4 and 1/2 years old)  fiddling with my fingers: something I still do to this day when I get anxious.
  

Copyright 1953 Marcia Norwood

 I made my kids do it.

 

Daughters Faith & Sarah with Santa.  Copyright 2003 Marcia Norwood

Daughter, Faith, had only been our daughter for one year (through the miracle of adoption) when she wrote this letter to Santa:
  
"Dear Santa,
My name is Faith Norwood.
Have a good trip."

Faith has always been gracious and polite. All the other kids in our family wrote a long list of specific things they wanted.  Faith took another approach.   I found her letter hilarious.  

 

We still quote her letter:  

"Dear Santa, Have a good trip!"

Will you do it this year?

Will you stand in line to see Santa?

Steve Haupt tells this story:

While at the mall last year, my four year old grandson saw kids lined up excitedly to see Santa Claus.  

Having been taught as a toddler that Christmas is the holiday that Christians celebrate the birth of God's son; with the innocence of a child, he asked his mom, 'Where's the line to see Jesus?  If Christmas is Jesus' birthday, why don't we see Him more?

As his grandpa, I was so happy that little Spencer understood the meaning of Christmas at such a tender age, and then the words for a song were jotted down in just a few minutes. 

The song was inspired by my grandson, and the message was inspired by my Savior.  Out of the mouths of babes come profound truths that many adults can not understand. 

Hopefully Spencer's observation and our song will cause people to reflect on the love of Jesus, and the certainly that one day we will all stand in line to see Jesus.  Merry Christmas everyone.

Song: Where's the Line to See Jesus?

Official Music Video by Becky Kelley. 

Produced by Shock City Studios, Directed by Chris Benson.

 CLICK on the link or COPY & PASTE the link in your browser:  

http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=76LY6GNX

For more information, visit  

www.wheresthelinetoseejesus.com

What line will you stand in?

Thank you for stopping by!

Come back often, and invite a friend!
 

 



















Mary Marcia
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

 

 

A GIFT FOR SANTA

Mary Marcia
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

 JOURNEY TO CHRISTMAS

  A Gift for Santa

 By John D.

Copyright 2013 John D.

Christmas 1955   

 

I saw Uncle Vinny and Aunt Lisa's blue truck waiting patiently in the pick-up line at school.  It was the beginning of Christmas break.  I was six years old.  Mom and Dad went to Paris, and left me with Uncle Vinny and Aunt Lisa.  I was anxious because I knew Uncle Vinny  and Aunt  Lisa would do something fun with me.  

It was their turn in line, and Lisa opened the back door of the blue truck for me.  

Uncle Vinny:  "How was your day, Sport?"

Me:  "It was good.  Can we get ice cream?"

Aunt Lisa:  "Sure we can.  Don't we always?"

We drove to our favorite ice cream shop, Charlie's,  in Houston.  I always got a waffle cone with vanilla praline.  

Two scoops.   

It made me feel so grown up to have two scoops.  

It was so big.

Uncle Vinny:  "Are you sure you can eat that?"

Me:  "Will you give me a dollar if I can eat it?"

Uncle Vinny:  "Sure.  We can do that."

He knew of course I could do it.

Aunt Lisa laughed at us.

We drove  to their farmhouse.  I liked to sleep in their barn.  My favorite place was up above  in the loft.  I unloaded my bag there. 

Aunt Lisa made my bed in the loft out of feed sacks with cotton batting inside.  It made  a comfortable mattress.  I slept  right by the window where you lower the hay.  I opened  two windows to a beautiful view of Uncle Vinny and Aunt Lisa's house on the right, and in  the front there was nothing but trees, and acres, and fields of cows.  

Uncle Vinny: "Alright, Sport, let's go down to the hardware store.  Santa Claus is coming.  It's supposed to be colder.  I want him to come into the barn, and make him comfy." 

I ran into house to tell Aunt Lisa we were going to the hardware store.

Aunt Lisa:  "You two don't get into much trouble , hear me?"

Me:  "Maybe we will, and maybe we won't."

It was about three days or four days before Christmas.  Uncle Vinny and I were on a timeline.  He drew a sketch about what we were about to do.  We were to make a thing for Santa's sleigh to rest on when he came into our barn.  Uncle Vinny didn't want Santa to slide on the hay in the barn.  He was afraid Santa's reindeer wouldn't be able stop.

Me:  "How come Santa doesn't land on your roof?"

Uncle Vinny:  "Our roof isn't strong enough to hold him.  Can you imagine a fat man like Santa fitting down a small hole in the chimney?  I don't think so."

Me:  "So , you're telling me that Santa has always come inside the barn?"

Uncle Vinny:  "Yep.  Don't question it, boy.  Don't question it."

Me:  "Well, okay."

I looked at Uncle Vinny's plans.  Santa's sleigh was supposed to come in on two rails - like train tracks - and it was to be made out of wood.  

I nodded my head, and pretended to understand.   I didn't understand, but I didn't  let Uncle Vinny know it.

He explained his plan to me.  

I nodded again, and still didn't understand.

Aunt Lisa:  "Don't come home without a hard hat, Vinny,  just in case the boy does something."

Uncle Vinny:  "And you need a pair of working man's clothes:  overalls.  You can't work in church clothes."

Uncle Vinny bought lumber, and he got me my own hammer and nails, my own carpenter belt, overalls, and gloves.

Uncle Vinny:  "Wear those gloves.  Real men don't have splinters."

Uncle Vinny never wore gloves.

We worked,  and worked,  and worked.  Aunt  Lisa checked on us  and brought us hot chocolate.  I  really liked hot chocolate.

Aunt Lisa (in her Texas drawl):  "You two are just adorable.  I could eat you up." 

Uncle Vinny and I both wore overalls and tool belts, boots and cowboy hats.  

We matched...very well.

Late that night Aunt  Lisa came in again to check on us. 

Aunt Lisa:  "Since you have a project of your own.  How 'bout I make a book about Jesus - about when He was born?  We can give it to Santa Claus, and  he can take it with him."

Me:  "That's a good idea.  It has to be all homemade."

Aunt  Lisa:  "Don't worry, baby.   It will be.  I intend to make it myself."

The next three days passed by like a breeze.  We got up early in the morning.  

Right as the sun rose Uncle Vinny's rooster sang:  "Cock-a-doodle doo!"

I ran into the house.  Aunt Lisa and Uncle Vinny were already at the table. Aunt Lisa set a place for me with a big helpin' of eggs, bacon, and a glass of milk...already on my plate. 

Aunt Lisa:  "You eat all of that.  Working men need a lot of food in their bodies.  If you're not hungry by lunch, you're not working hard enough."

I scarfed down every part of it.  I put on  my tool belt.  Aunt Lisa made me wear my hard hat.

Uncle Vinny and I went to work.

We came back to the farmhouse for lunch.   Things from Aunt Lisa's sewing kit were everywhere.  She was making the book for Santa from fabric.  I watched her read words from her Bible, and then copy them on fabric.  Her writing was so beautiful,  and so neat.  She sewed each page together.    

Aunt Lisa gave us lunch, and sent us on our way.

Christmas Eve arrived.  The night I waited for.

Uncle Vinny and I  barely finished  before 9 o'clock at night.  We were afraid Santa would slide on the hay in the barn, and his reindeer wouldn't stop.

We made the thing to stop Santa's sleigh from wood, and we made a little trough for each reindeer with food on one side, and water on the other.  

I went up to my loft.  It was about 45 degrees that night.  That's cold in Texas.  There wasn't any snow on the ground.  I was sleepless so I stared at the stars, and tossed and turned.    Aunt Lisa and Uncle Vinny  were asleep in their beds in the farmhouse.  I climbed down the ladder, and sat in one of the stalls.  I put a cover down by Jake, one of  Vinny's  baby  bulls who was only about a month old.  I petted Jake,  and talked to him all night long.

Uncle Vinny had an old watch that he hung by the door of the barn. At 3 A.M. on Christmas morning...the barn doors flew open.  

I was a little frightened.

In came deer with beautiful leather saddles.  Their  names were engraved in gold on the leather saddles.  

Rudolph led the way.

Then came Dasher, and Dancer, and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen.

I stood up in amazement.  The reindeer seemed like magical creatures.  

After rows and rows of reindeer came in, next came the most beautiful sleigh I had ever seen.   It had wheels.  It was red with a gold finish.  It was HUGE, and barely fit through the front barn doors.

On the back of the sleigh was this big red velvet sack.  The top was tied with a green and gold entwined cord.  It was a big cord.  Where the two strands met each other there was a green tassel. 

It took me a minute to take it all in. 

I didn't notice at first someone was in the front seat:  a man......a Big Jolly Man with pink cheeks like he had been out in the cold.  His hat and his outfit was as red as an apple picked off the tree.  His black boots shined like he had just polished it. 

I saw him turn around to his bag. 

He said, "Hey, John." 

I ducked under the stall door.

He said:  "Come on out, John." as he laughed.

I got the courage up, and stood up.  I opened the stall door, and walked out.

Me:  "I dropped - um - um - my ugh ugh - coin.  I dropped my coin."

Santa:  "Okay, John.  Do you want to come up here?"

He extended one glove down to me.  

Me:  "REALLY?  Is that allowed even?"

Santa:  "I don't see why not."

I grabbed his glove, and he pulled me up like it took him no effort at all.

I sat in the front seat of Santa's sleigh.  It was a bench that stretched across, and it was covered in the softest seat cushion ever.  I was just amazed.  I didn't know what to say at first.  I couldn't help but look at that huge sack he had in the back.

Santa:  "So, John,  you think I got something in there for you?"

Me:  "I hope so, but I hope you have something in there for Aunt Lisa, too.  Here's what happened, Santa:  Aunt Lisa let her neighbor borrow her sewing machine , and her neighbor broke it.  Lisa liked her sewing machine."    

I hopped off the sleigh:  the biggest jump I've ever made.  I grabbed the book Aunt Lisa made of fabric, and threw it to Santa.

Me:  "Can you help me up again?"

He helped me up.

Me:  "Now:  You can open it."

Santa opened the fabric book, and looked through it. 

He was quiet, and he smiled.

Me:  "Do you see? This is why Aunt Lisa needs a sewing machine.  She sewed all this by hand."

Santa put the book to his other side.

Santa:  "Your Aunt  Lisa is a good woman, isn't she?

I agreed.

Santa:  "John, close your eyes.  I've got something for you."

I peeked, and saw him untie the big tassel.  He had to stand up on the chair just to get inside the bag.  He searched and searched, and finally found mine.  He gave it to me.  It was wrapped beautifully with a big blue bow on top.

Santa:  "John, don't open this until I'm gone."

Me:  "I promise.  Santa, please wait here until I get back."

I hopped down, climbed up the ladder to the loft, and sat the gift Santa gave to me next to my mattress. 

I climbed back down the ladder and said:  " Santa,  your reindeer might be hungry and thirsty. Uncle Vinny and I made  a trough for each of your reindeer.  May I give it to them?" 

Santa:  How about if I lend you a hand?

He got out of the sleigh, and I swore the ground beneath my feet shook.  Santa  helped me lift each trough that we had stored in the stalls.

I scooted the troughs because they were so heavy.  Santa lifted each one up like it was no problem for him.  I took Rudolph's and he did all the rest.  He said I could pet his reindeer as they ate.

Me:  "My Aunt Lisa made you cookies and milk.  I know you get a lot of those, but these are worth it. "

Santa sat on the ground, right next to Jake, Uncle Vinny's baby cow.  He ate one cookie at a time, and dipped each one in his milk.  Milk dripped down his beard.

Santa:  "Do you want one John?"

Me:  "Really?  Don't tell Aunt Lisa.  She told me not to eat them."

He put one finger over his mouth and said:  "Shhhh!  It will be our little secret."

I talked to Santa while we ate cookies.  When his reindeer finished eating,  we got up and put the troughs back where we found them.  

Santa put both of his big hands on my shoulders and said: "Well, I best be going.  It was very very nice to meet you."

Me:  "Will you be back next year?"

He got up on his sleigh, and looked down at me:  "Of course I will, and I'm sure you will be waiting."

I opened the back barn doors.  Santa shook the reigns, and the reindeer all started to go...as fast as lightening.  Before I knew it - they were gone.  I looked out of the barn, and watched  them until I could see them no more.

I shut the back barn doors, and said "Good Morning" to Jake.  He didn't care.

I climbed up to my loft, and looked at the present laying next to my bed. 

I stared at the ceiling for the rest of the morning until I heard Uncle Vinny's rooster at sunrise: "Cock-a-doodle doo!"    

I climbed down the loft with my new present, and bolted inside the house.  I told Uncle Vinny and Aunt Lisa what happened.

Lisa looked at me like it was the most precious thing she had ever heard.

I'm pretty sure Uncle Vinny liked it too.  He didn't say.  He was eating.

Aunt Lisa:  "Open the present, and see what Santa gave you."

That year, Santa Claus gave me a journal.  The front and back cover was made of wood.  My name was carved out on the front in fancy letters.  Santa also carved out a pencil to go with it. 

Aunt Lisa examined it and said:  "I have never seen such beautiful work."

Aunt Lisa and Uncle Vinny gave me presents, but I can't remember what they were.   I didn't pay attention to any other  toy except the gift Santa gave me.  I wondered if it really happened.  Every time I doubted there was a spark - a reflection - off the front cover of the notebook.   I wanted a notebook that Christmas, and Santa gave me one.

I never forgot that I saw Santa Claus, even after the Christmas season.  For the next six years  Santa  came back every Christmas morning  at 3 A.M. to Uncle Vinny's  barn.  I waited for him.  We talked, and fed his reindeer like we always did.  Each year he got me something I wanted, and it was homemade.  He always put my name on the gift.  My name was hidden somewhere on the toy, so  it was fun for me to search for it.

Later on in my life,  Uncle Vinny finally told me who that Santa Claus was.  Uncle Vinny said Santa was a man that people barely saw all year except when He came to the stores in Dallas to buy things.  Apparently each Christmas Eve and Christmas morning  he drove to most of the houses in the area.  He  gave out  toys he made, and put each child's name on it.  

As I look back and remember, the other kids were happy Santa brought them a toy.  They played with it for a while, but once they lost the fascination with it - it ended up in the trash can.

I asked Uncle Vinny:  "If you see one of those toys in the trash - save it for me."

Uncle Vinny used to pick them (quite a few of them) out of the trash cans.

Come Christmas morning I gave the toys back to Santa.  He re-made each one  into something beautiful.

The last time I saw Santa, I was 13 years old. 

Santa:  "John, I have never in my life, met a person like you.  I sure hope other boys and girls grow up to be like you."

Me:  "Well, Santa, no disrespect - but I don't think you want other kids to grow up like me."

Santa:  " Yes I do, John.  I'm right."

I watched  Santa drive away for the last time...like I did for so many years.  When he was out of my view,  a  shine remained - like a glimmer of HOPE as he faded away.

This is the true story I tell to my children, my grandchildren, and my great-grandchildren,  and to the love of my life.

A Gift for Santa

 By John D.

Thanks for stopping by!

Come back often, 

and invite a friend!

Copyright 1953 Marcia Norwood

Mary Marcia

America's STORYTELLER

Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

 

thegraphicsfairy.com

  THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
by Clement Clarke Moore
or Henry Livingston

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."