I saw something a few days ago that I had never seen before…gray squirrels are all over the country, I believe…at least east of the Rockies…they are seen by some as a nuisance rodent, by others a cute, quirky animal in everyone’s backyard…some like to feed them, others try everything in their arsenal to keep them from their bird feeders…we have been there…squirrels breed twice a year and the litters can be from 2-8 young in each litter…so there can be “lots” of squirrels around if there is enough food to be found…and when so many, including us, have bird feeders…then the squirrels will never go hungry…

There are lots of gray squirrels here in Arkansas…they seem to be a bit, well, lacking in defense against cars…I see them all over as  “roadkill”…I’ll say, “Another one bit the dust.”…as we pass by another dead squirrel on the road…personally I have never hit one though I wouldn’t swerve out of the way, or run off the road, or into another car…or slam on my brakes…you get my drift here…in other words I don’t want to hit one but…the odd thing is though, the squirrels, when they get on the road in front of you, have a tough time deciding what to do…do I go straight across…do I go back…do I dart back and forth…do I run straight down the center line…just what do I do???...I have decided they all have a death wish…or they are just stupid…I don’t know…but they do all those things…and all the while their tail is up in the air moving around like they are challenging the car or something…”Just get across the road will you.”…so many of them don’t make it…

Okay, let me get back to the story of what I saw some days ago…no camera shot or video but let me try to describe it…(first, let me say, there is not a straight road in Little Rock, Arkansas…its either turning right or left…up or down…or right or left AND up and down…the road never is straight for more that a few seconds as you are moving…okay, enough of that…but it will give you an idea why I couldn’t get a picture even if I had a camera)…back to the story…as I was driving home and passing a roadkill or two…(just joking)…

Anyway, I noticed a squirrel on the road ahead of me…it had been hit already…but was alive yet…moving a leg and tail…but unable to move…that would be bad enough but a crow was standing over it…pecking at the squirrel’s head and eyes…I had never seen a crow attacking roadkill, before it was roadkill…it kind of grossed me out…but as I went by the crow took off…I should have run over the squirrel to put it out of its misery…but didn’t…looked back and saw the crow come back and take up his gruesome task again as I went down the road…I thought, this too is part of nature…crows eat carrion, its part of a plan of cleaning up dead things, I guess…that’s why we don’t see hundreds of birds and other animals that have died, all around us…even turkey vultures wait until the animal dies before it closes in…so I had not seen a crow do that before…it was a surprise and informative at the same time…

A few years ago as I was looking out at our backyard…this was in Minnesota before we moved to Arkansas…so this was about 2005 or so…Jeremy had a number of bird feeders in the back yard…we had lots of different kinds of birds at different times of the year…the feeders were different too…suet, mixed grain, black sunflower seeds, thistle seed and on and on…it attracted many kinds of birds, so it also attracted different kinds of predators…hawks, owls, cats, etc…and this is hard for some birders to understand or handle…that animals eat other animals…and if you attract birds you will see birds being seen as a food source…also you will attract squirrels for the seeds that you feed the birds…we also had a number of bushes, evergreen and deciduous trees in the yard…all are wonderful for birds, because they can find shelter and protection there…

Over the years we saw the results of hawks who swooped in and got birds at the feeders…its one of the truths of birding…you feed and attract them and you also provide a place for predators to get fed…we found feathers from a recent kill and there were a few times we saw a hawk on a railing or log in our backyard feeding on a bird…the type of hawk we had visit from time to time was a Cooper’s hawk…they are a beautiful bird…about 14″-20″ tall with a two foot wing span…short round wings and a long rounded tail…this allows them to fly through trees and swoop in and out of tight places…they feed mostly on small birds and mammals…they will pursue after birds between trees and even run along the ground in its pursuit…with a few short flaps of its wings and long glide it surprises its prey…but this time it was different…it was after a gray squirrel…

As I watched out the window…I noticed all the birds were gone (they seem to know when a hawk is around, I don’t always know how)…but the squirrel in the platform feeder didn’t get the message…too hungry I guess…but all the sudden in swooped the Cooper’s hawk, big as you please…the squirrel all the sudden saw his precarious situation and jumped off the feeder…and right into the Colorado spruce…right there in the picture…to the left of the feeder…then the fun started…I couldn’t believe it!!!…the squirrel made it to the tree…and I thought it was over…but the Cooper’s thought differently…and I had never seen this before either…the hawk landed on the tree and went inside after the squirrel…the squirrel went up the tree on the inside branches…and the hawk followed…he used his wings to climb…the squirrel sat still…and so did the hawk…as soon as the squirrel moved…the hawk went after him…this went on for 3 or 4 minutes…back and forth…up and down…I wanted to see this videoed but couldn’t take my eyes off it…finally the squirrel left the tree and ran to another…the hawk finally gave up the search…the squirrel was too quick and got away and was hiding in another tree and “laying low”…he was not moving…so the hawk pulled himself together…and took off for better hunting…it was something to see…again, surprising and yet informative about something I did not know and had never seen…

Nature…such beauty, so surprising and informative…we need to stay awake for it…alert…noticing things that go by us everyday, noticed or not…I choose to notice…to mark it down in my mind…to remember…well, heavens…I got to share it with you…what could be better…have a great week…

I listen to radio probably more than most do…in this case XM/Sirius radio…it came with our car in 2007 and we have just “kept it up”…I enjoy a few of the huge number of stations that it offers…so it is all about choices…one of the stations that I listen to is XM4…it is mostly 1940′s music…and sometimes I go to others when I want other kinds of music…now, I won’t lead you to believe I listen to “lots” of music…I don’t, but when I’m in the car I do…most of the time it is background…but other times I really listen…I think you know what I mean…”really hear it”, not just hear it…so much for that…but I think you “get” the drift here…

I guess it is really hearing the words and trying to understand the meaning of the song…that’s where lots of songs lose me…they are either meaningless or full of negative meaning…I guess that is why I love the “standards”…you know, from the “Great American Songbook”…you can look that up online and it will give you a little more than I am here…many of the standards are from that era of the “Big Bands”…1930′s, 40′s and 50′s…great songwriters and musicians…many today will take a song they hear and think it’s from today…but really it is an arrangement from the “Songbook”…well, we “heard” an original a couple of weeks ago…I’ll share it with you today…

As Judie and I were in the car and listening…the song “At Last” came up…we happened to be “listening” this time…I noticed as I looked at the radio that it was the Glenn Miller band performing…I love his music, always have…but the history behind his band and him in particular, adds to his music…in fact his band is still performing today…they have the Glenn Miller Festival every summer in Clarinda, Iowa, his birth place…Miller volunteered for the army in 1942…he was at the height of his popularity and formed a band in the service…transferred to the army air force, he played all over the country and in England before the D-Day landing…he was lost at sea when his plane went down flying from England to France…if you ever get a chance to see “The Glenn Miller Story” (1953) with James Stewart, it is a movie, of course, but close to how things happened in his life…

The song “At Last” was written in 1941 for Miller’s movie “Sun Valley Serenade”…but it was not used until his second and last movie before he went in the army, “Orchestra Wives”…starring George Montgomery and Ann Rutherford…the song was played by the Glenn Miller band with singing by Ray Eberle and Lynn Bari (Pat Friday did the singing and it was dubbed for Bari)…the words and music are by Mack Gordon and Harry Warren…it has become a standard and part of the Great American Songbook…you will see why in a moment…one of Glenn Miller’s great songs…some say the best…but there have been many who have recorded this song…some most noted: Etta James, Christine Aguilera, Celin Dion and Beyonce…it was on American Idol in 2009 and in 2004 was played for the Boston Red Sox, when they “finally” won the World Series…”At Last”…a lasting standard…enjoy it whenever you hear it…but remember where it first was played and sung…Glenn Miller…

First the lyrics to “At Last”…”At last my love has come along/My lonely days are over/And life is like a song//At last the skies above are blue/My heart was wrapped up in clover/The night I looked at you//I found a dream that I can speak to/A dream that I can call my own/I found a thrill to press my cheek to/A thrill I have never known//You smiled and then the spell was cast/And here we are in heaven/For you are mine at last//”…and now a piece from the movie “Orchestra Wives”…and you will see why I slipped my hand over Judie’s as we drove along…

The video is of fairly good quality…so you can make it full screen to see those faces better…the trumpet player is George Montgomery…but the trumpet is dubbed by Johnny Best a sideman of the Miller band…Jackie Gleason is the bass player…and Harry Morgan, who just died in December of 2011 at 96…(he was probably known best for playing “Col. Potter” in “MASH”…but was in many other films)…but he is seen in front giving the evil eye to the trumpet player…

Okay, you can go back and listen again to some of America’s greatest music…”At Last” is only one of hundreds of songs…full of meaning as people listen…it brings you to a time and place no one else can go…because of what it means to you…your memories…this is, a great song…its no wonder I held Judie’s hand…I guess, we still have “it”…how ’bout you???…

Every year we enjoy a Christmas movie called “The House Without A Christmas Tree”…it was a “made for TV movie”, made in 1972…detractors talk about it being “old”…(what they mean is, technically it is not “up to date”…well, it was made in 1972, duh)…but the movie is filled top to bottom with some trues that we need today as we needed then…the story was written by Gail Rock, who wrote some other stories about her childhood…it takes place in 1946, in the little town of Clear River, Nebraska…population 1,500, no traffic light…didn’t need one…it’s a touching story of “loss, hope and the power of redemption, not only at the holidays, but all the year through.”…Jason Robards is the father, Lisa Lucas the 10 year old daughter and Mildred Natwick is the grandmother…all playing strong roles in the film…

The story is at Christmastime…the daughter is determined to get a Christmas tree…a tree which her father won’t allow, because it reminds him of his wife, whom he still mourns…losing her in the birth of his daughter…he can’t bear to celebrate Christmas in any way…Addie, the daughter, wins a Christmas tree in a school contest…and the grandmother (and Mildred Natwick is such a wonderful actor) is now placed in a position of trying to smooth over the battle between her son and her granddaughter, both she adores…it is a upbeat, yet serious topic…and very good…and it is not only the story and the actors who are wonderful…but the town, the school…and even more…I find myself there…right there…it’s about the time I grew up…I can place myself “right there”…I know, you know, what I mean…it has happened to you many times…

The classroom of Addie’s school…I remember my school was much like that…probably you too have memories of your elementary school…the cloakroom which was behind a wall in the front of the room, the wooden floors, the tall windows, the blackboards, the desks…it all may be a little different…but yet the same…and her teacher, I know I had teachers just like that…the school was three floors…a picture of George Washington in front of the room…Zaner-Bloser alphabet posters above the blackboards…standing for the pledge of allegiance (“under God” not yet a part of the pledge)…a Christmas tree in the corner (now of course there are rules against trees in the classroom, at least no “real” trees…no electric lights…”boring”)…and then the bringing of exchange gifts to each other…and what an embarrassing and stressful thing that was…but it was the 1940′s and its the way it was…I miss it!!!…a thoroughly delightful movie…do I recommend it???…of course…if you come with an attitude of history…and the ability to translate that into your own experience…I know you can do that…

So as we are bathed in Christmas light I look back to that time again…I did that during December…it was on December 7th…you can go back and read that if you like…I mentioned David McCullough’s book “In The Dark Streets Shineth”…he talks about Christmas Eve 1941, just two and a half weeks after the attack on Pearl Harbor…when Winston Churchill came “at considerable risk, crossed the Atlantic in great secrecy to meet with President Franklin D. Roosevelt”…and there under a thin fragment of moon…the two leaders came on the South Portico of the White House to light the national Christmas tree…with a holiday greeting to a world very unsure about even tomorrow…things were not going well in the war effort…and wouldn’t for some time…Roosevelt said, “we set our faith in human love and in God’s care for us and all men everywhere.”…Churchill said, “Let the children have their night of fun and laughter,”…”before we turn again to the stern task and the formidable years that lie before us, resolved that, by our sacrifice and daring, these same children shall not be robbed of their inheritance or denied their right to live in a free and decent world”…radio carried their words around the world…20,000 were there in the twilight…standing by the now shining Christmas tree…and under that moon they gazed up to an uncertain future…but as one commentator wrote, “bathed in Christmas light”…

So here we are, maybe not in the same sort of fix…but in probably the worst economic times since the Great Depression…fighting in wars around the globe…terrorism is all around us…and though our existence is not in doubt, at least yet…many of our schools, unlike back in Clear River, Nebraska…especially in our cities, are failing to educate…debt is growing and anger is all around…and if there is not a direction change soon, we are headed toward more problems…but what I have seen in America over all my years…is hope…an optimism for the future…to overcome the problems we see…and I also have seen faith in the hearts of people…to believe in an America that is resilient…that will bring the changes necessary to become what we know we can be…

I still believe there is a God in heaven who cares for the likes of us…British poet Francis Thompson catches the essence of our God…unique to Christianity is God’s pursuit of us to draw us to himself…every other religion people have to pursue their god, hoping to gain favor…rituals, good works, etc…but Thompson writes of the relentless pursuit of God in his life…in his poem, “The Hound of Heaven”, he writes that as he fled from God he couldn’t out run “those strong feet that followed…with unhurrying chase and unperturbed pace.”…But this is not just his story…it’s all of our story…Wesley wrote…”Died He for me, who caused His pain?/For me, who Him to death pursued?/ Amazing love! How can it be/That Thou my God, shouldst die for me?…

So where does all this lead me???…though sometime we feel alone…or feeling loss…even at Christmastime…like “Addie” in the story…she found, because of her hope, redemption and healing…a great story…and what about that Christmas Eve night 70 years ago, when two leaders of the free world…at the end of themselves…looked to the God of heaven to work out what needed to be done…don’t think for a moment that God was not there that night…and how about you and me…do you sometime feel “The Hound of Heaven” breathing down your neck…chasing, pursuing, speaking to you…and for all of those other moments…when we feel God is not there…not really interested…I think of something I read not long ago…“One day when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, we will all realize that a simple faith is all we really needed.”…

In the end, that is all that I really wanted to say…have a great week…

What beautiful weather we have been having…it is January 5th…and the year…a whopping 2012…and its a new one at that…we had, and I hope you had, and wonderful Christmas…the weather was great…warm…maybe a little too warm…in the 40′s and 50′s…no snow, although there was some snow in the northern part of Arkansas…snow here in Little Rock is not unusual in the winter but when it comes it is a surprise…and it will not last over a day or so…last year we had a lot of snow for Little Rock…and I think it was true all over the country…I know Minnesota had one of the snowiest years ever…also the Rockies, well, everywhere…

So no snow over Christmas and New years…and today, we have about 66 degrees outside…the sun is shining and we are out without jackets…and short sleeves…lots of people out with shorts, especially if they are running…just  beautiful weather…the next thing we look for is spring…I know it is hard for me to understand…but we will have a month or so of colder weather…not enough to kill our pansies…they are thriving all over the city…but it will get cold enough to wear a long sleeved shirt…now, I don’t, but I do have all this extra  padding, so a vest and short sleeves is okay for me…and speaking of padding…

Well, I really mean pudding…I regress back to Christmas for a second…one of the comments I got over Christmas was from Patty…she talked about a rice pudding with lingonberries…I asked her for the recipe and she kindly gave it to me…and so, I made it…here is a picture of what I did…hopefully she approves…it was wonderful…all none fattening, of course…if whole milk and whipping cream are on your diet…I put lingonberries over the top…if you like rice pudding and lingonberries, this is a keeper…not a dessert really, although I made it mine a number of times over the course of meals…no leftovers of this I’ll tell you…now that still looks good to me…

Dandelions…it’s a funny thing about dandelions, as prolific as they were in the upper mid-west…they are almost non-existent here…I just don’t see them in the spring of the year…but on January 1, 2012, were were parked in front of the camera store Judie had to go to…and there in front of the car, in the landscaping…Dandelions, yup, in January…they were just all over the large area…it will always amaze me I guess…how things can grow here that I never saw happen in Minnesota…pansies, dandelions…just hard for me to wrap my brain around…

So we decided to take a little ride out to Maumelle Park…its just a short drive, maybe five miles…right along the Arkansas River…and yes there are people there camping…though not like it was over Christmas vacation…but still quite a few for this time of year…beautiful facilities and views from the campgrounds…we enjoy just going out with a cup of coffee and watching the world go by…one of the benefits of retirement, I guess…

I’m having trouble with my internet connection…so will close and try to get this to post…have a great week…

I just looked back and found that I started this blog a year ago…December 30, 2009 was my first post…there have been 121 posts this year…when I started I thought, “One a week…I’ll try that.”…I guess there have been a few more than that…I really didn’t know how it would go…and I still don’t…will I run out of ideas?…will anyone care?…and, do “I” really care that much?…I still don’t know the answers to the first two questions…but found out that “I” do really care about the posts that I write from time to time…its fun…sometimes hard…but all the time worth the effort…to put down thoughts that are up there banging around…Oh, I know, you have those thoughts too…we just need an outlet…hopefully, some of my thoughts match yours…

I had to put away any thoughts or concerns about whether people would read what I write or not…that is the first thing I put aside…in the end, that is not why people write down their thoughts…if people do read, well, “that’s just gravy” as my Mom used to say…so if you read this…thanks for the gravy…and it does give me some degree of satisfaction that some may enjoy my ruminations…thanks again…

So for the next year???…well, I have found I can’t think like that…I will take it a day at a time…and see what comes up…life is so full of “stuff”…that some time, well most of the time, I don’t have the time to write and do some basic research into the subject so it will make some sense to those who may read…but I will continue to try…

So here we are the last days of December 2010…its December 30 today…one more day of the year…as we get older, years seem to pass by quickly…at least faster than they did as a child…I take each year as it comes…make plans but nothing too far ahead…I just don’t know about tomorrow…so I hang on to things loosely…but I am as upbeat about tomorrow as I am about today…life is so wonderful…to see what is going on…even if I am not a part of all of it…being a spectator is not all bad…

I have decided long ago that I would put my life in God’s hands…and see where He would take me…lots of surprises…lots of hard times…but more good times…no, they were great times…and those memories “kick-start” much of what I think about day to day…hopefully you are using your memories…they help to make life worthwhile…and full of good things…

I have a poem that gives some meaning to all that above…its a favorite of mine…got it years ago from somewhere…and have used it from time to time…it’s called “Unmapped Miles Ahead” by Joan Rae Mills…

I wrap up/ the last day of December./ Ahead hang months/ Of unmapped miles./ Inside me/ eagerness/ tangles with trepidation./ Questions/ rim my heart:/ What trial?/ What triumph?/ What will meet me tomorrow?

Creator of our chronology-/ You who set up seasons/ split light from night/ walked timelines in both directions-/ You know what’s waiting./

Hold my hours in Your hands/ tug me toward right/ tap my shoulder and whisper instructions/ Fill my heart with Your directions./ I want to walk these days/ with You.

This is where I live…what I want in life…“Hold my hours in your hands…tug me toward right…tap my shoulder and whisper instructions…fill my heart with Your directions…I want to walk these days with You.”…

Join me will you…let’s go for that walk in this New Year…Happy New Year…

This morning before some of you got up…I was out for coffee…and listening to, of all things, a 1957 Bing Crosby Christmas program on XM radio…yes, as late as 1957, radio was still an important venue for entertainment and information…TV was not universal at that time and instead of having huge choices in music and entertainment and news…most people knew the major stars, bands, singers, newsmen, etc…today that is just the reverse…there are too many to list…and there is no way for us to know all there is to know out there…if you think you do, its just that you don’t know what you don’t know!!!…

Oh that’s right, there may be those of you who do not know the name Bing Crosby…(you are…Oh, so young)…he was a huge star of stage, screen, radio and later TV…best known as a “crooner”…but you will hear him around this time of year…the song and movie, of the same name, “White Christmas”, the movie “Holiday Inn”…”Silent Night” and other songs and movies he made, are played around Christmas…you will hear and see these from time to time…

So over a cup of coffee, in the car…I listened to the Big Crosby Christmas Eve Show, 1957…he traveled (via radio hook-up) to Jerusalem, Minneapolis, London, a Naval ship on the Mediterranean, various other places…and to Oberndorf, Austria…his son was in the Army, stationed in Europe at the time…and he was in Oberndorf, the town where “Silent Night” was written and performed the first time…

Now that is not exactly true…but let me give you a little history…about 190 years ago…December 24, 1818, “Silent Night” was first performed…but the words were written earlier in 1816 by Father Joseph Mohr…he moved to Oberndorf in 1817…and on Christmas Eve 1818, Joseph Mohr asked Franz Gruber, the choir director at the church, to write a melody and guitar accompaniment to be performed at midnight mass…more on that later…

(Sidebar)…Why did that story and song strike me this morning???…well, as close as I can figure, it was 57 years ago, in 4th or 5th grade, that I made my first and last acting performance…my music teacher, Mrs. Engquist talked me into taking the part (with a lot of help from my mother) of Joseph Mohr in our school Christmas pageant…so I found myself on stage in the Meadowbrook School gym, scared to death…reciting my lines…quill in hand…”Silent Night…Holy Night…all is calm..all is bright”, I recited…(with pauses between the words…all we actors know the pauses must be there to show the “dramatic effect” of the moment)…well, you can see why this was my last performance, as well as my first…(End Sidebar)…

By the mid 1850′s “Silent Night” was already popular (with a few note changes)…even in America…it was written by unknowns…no celebrity to it…yet its powerful message of heavenly peace has crossed all borders and language barriers…loved around the world…(attached is the song I heard this morning from that program)…01 – Silent Night

And no matter where I am, when I hear that song…I am in Minnesota on a cold, snow-covered night…the sky is so clear it seems not possible…my breath form small clouds of white and float upward and disappear…the snow crunches underfoot…and sometime I am holding my Mom’s hand as we walk home from church on Christmas Eve…a bag of Christmas candy in my hand…and sometime, it’s years later, with our own kids…walking to the car as we come out of church…it seems as yesterday…and I never want those memories to be lost…

The wonderful thing about this time of year is the story of Christmas…”For unto you is born this day…a Savior which is Christ the Lord”…and with Him comes peace on earth good will to all men…so this time of year always brings joy…I wish you Joy and Peace…and wonderful memories…Merry Christmas…

All of us have had many Christmases…and hopefully this will make you think of your Christmas past…and what is important as we go through “this” Christmas season…may you have a blessed Christmas as we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ…the “good tidings” or “good news” of that first Christmas night…enjoy…

The Christmas I describe is past…my past…and most of the significant people of my youth are now gone…in one way that seems strange…in another it seems comfortable…like it should be…

My Grandparents on both sides are gone…Grandma Elmquist who gave us oyster dressing, and passed the recipe on to Mom…and Grandma Reggin, the prolific baker, who passed on her Hungry Boy cookie recipe…are gone…as well as both Grandfathers and my Dad…Mom, in her 82nd year, is living in a nursing home…and even though she still knows us…she has little remembrance of her present or her past…and for someone who loved Christmas as she did, that day will be like any other day…and that seems to me to be sad and a bit unfair to that wonderful woman…

Life moves on in it’s own way…beyond our control, beyond our understanding…and because it is so…our past grows in much the same way…it builds upon itself, year after year…and the memories of many Christmases layer together is such a way, that they almost seem to become one…or at least become difficult to separate…only made special when thoughts like this come to mind: “our first Christmas together”…”after we moved to”…” the first year in our new home”…”our first child’s Christmas”…”the year Grandma died”…and a myriad of other touchstone moments in time…those may make a particular Christmas special…but other than that, they seem to just run together…and that is okay…because that is how traditions are born…So my picture of the past will be different than others who where there…that’s because it is my memory…a memory slightly affected by my feelings about those years…I will tend to tell the story as I saw it…and mingled with the truth will be some of the emotion I have about what I experienced as a child…so what was many Christmases, I will view as one…Christmas Past…

My memory of Christmas always comes from the “basement house”…I know we lived in a few other places…but I only really remember the basement house…it’s where most of my growing up years happened…”What a place to have Christmas!” most would say today…but to my folks, brothers and I, it was what we had…

After the war (WWII) Dad and Mom built the basement house…there was to be a house on the top of it “someday”…but that day never came…there was a walkout basement door and inside Mom did the best she could…we had no pumbing…Oh, we had cold water running under the ground from Grandma and Grandpa Reggin’s, who lived next door but no hot water…no sewer, water ran in the sink and into a pail under the sink, that had to be emptied when it filled (yes, outdoors, in what we called, the alley, behind the shed, in the back yard…in the winter the ice would really build up)…there was no bathroom…we had an outhouse…(and at 30 below you didn’t take much time doing your thing)…Mom made the best of things…her cupboards were mostly wooden apple boxes of the time…painted and attached to the walls…she made curtains for the front of those cupboards and shelf paper on the shelves…there were two bedrooms…walls were made of 2 by 2′s with cardboard stapled to the wood…it was painted and later wallpapered to make it look better…there were no doors on the rooms but curtains that Mom made…the rest of the basement was open…the large gas furnace was in the corner of the open room…a couch, a couple of chairs…and in the kitchen area a refrigerator, a stove and a table and chairs…

This was our home..and Mom made it so…in all the years I have known my Mother, I never once heard her complain about her situation or the house she never had…I have asked myself many times how she could be content…but she surrounded herself with her family…her Mom and Dad…and others in the neighborhood and extended family who depended on her to keep their world together..she celebrated Christmas all year round…

As cook in the local school district and brought up in the depression…she could not throw out food…she brought home leftovers and gave them to neighbors who had a need..and there were many…most were no better off than we were…Mom took after her Dad…(during the depression Grandpa was one of the few that had work and he shared in many ways in that neighborhood with those who did not have jobs)…I remember when I was growing up, neighbors telling me about how “great” my Grandpa was…he was my hero…still is!!!…(simple things made him great…he took care of his family…his neighbors…and his integrity, honesty…he left a legacy with me)…

At Christmas time, Mom made it special…we never had a lot of gifts but that is not what made it special…it was planning for the season…my Dad was not around much during my growing up years…alcohol consumed most of his time and most of the money at our house…Christmas to him was just another time to drink…Mom had to do the best at Christmas without much money…we would go out with my Grandparents to get the tree (we didn’t have a car)…it kind of reminds me of the movie “A Christmas Story”…no real choice in trees…but when we got it home, Mom would get out the lights and ornaments…she would put on the lights…we put on the ornaments (she later moved them to a better spot)…and then the fun came..tinsel in our hands became a disaster on the tree…mom would try to get us to take our time and put it on nicely…it never worked, that took too much time…so it got real thick in spots!!!…and throwing it at the tree made it more artistic to us…in any case, it always turned out “just right”…

On Christmas Eve we walked to church a few blocks away…the crunch of snow and the cold nights gave us a special feeling about that special night…at church we heard again the story of how God sent His Son to earth at Christmas time…and after, we always got candy and nuts…the ribbon candy and other hard candies…I really don’t know if we ever ate it…but it was fun to get it…as we walked home we would see the Christmas trees lit in the neighbors windows…it was almost a dream sequence in the dark, with the only light reflecting off the white of the snow…

We always visited Jim and Mary Burton on Christmas Eve…they were a elderly couple who Mom had been taking care of for years…and did so until they died…we brought them some small things for gifts…cookies, candy, a handkerchief…just small things…they were so thankful and we talked for some time…their home was dark and the furniture was overstuffed and old…clocks filled the house…all of them wind up type…and the sounds of the clocks fill the place…and in the glow of the small lighted tree, we sat there mesmerized by the stories of their past and the countries they came from…Jim from England…Mary from Norway…

We then stopped at my Grandparents house and there was always something special to eat…pickled herring, cheese, summer sausage and crackers, cookies and on and on…when it was the appropriate time we went next door to go to bed…in the basement house…but we didn’t go to sleep right away because later, Uncle George would stop in and talk with us…and we never wanted to miss it…he was funny, told stories and joked with us…it was part of our Christmas…(on Christmas Day morning, we would always go out to their house and see what they got for Christmas…I didn’t remember anything they got…kind of like us, it probably wasn’t much…but what I remember is just going there…talking, seeing the cousins, laughing and eating ham sandwiches…cutting our own ham off this huge ham in the kitchen…that was a big deal)…

We always got up early on Christmas…5:00 was not out of the question…Mom would try and talk us out of it…but she gave in quickly…Dad was another story…(he always suffered from a hangover that would put an ox to his knees)…but slowly he got up to see all that was going on…we had stockings filled full of “stuff”…fruit, (and who ate that?)…candy, small things…then it was opening the gifts…I don’t remember one gift I got…as I look back I guess that was not the important thing…it was Christmas and that’s what was important…it always has been…

All the while Mom was over putting together the Christmas dinner…turkey, oyster dressing, sage dressing, cranberry salad, gravy, vegetables, rolls, pies…and so much more…a feast…and plenty of leftovers…it was Christmas…and it was always special…

Those were simpler times, I know…but they were times that are still a part of me today…some of the traditions we still practice…some have changed…and I miss some parts of that time…I miss Grandparents, I wished I had known them better…Jim and Mary Burton…our small little church…my Dad…

And Mom, the one who made it happen for so many…for our family and so many around that neighborhood…I wish she could still remember, so we could talk of those times…that we could laugh, cry and remember together that wonderful time of life…the layer upon layer that has become my Christmas Past…

I have a collection of Christmas stories…and I want you to read just one of them…I just love this story…and think you will too…this is “Delayed Delivery” by Cathy Miller, you may have read it before…it is in many books and on the internet…and there are different versions of the story…meaning, they have edited out some parts here and there, but I like this one the best…it first appeared in a 1992 Christmas story contest for a Canadian newspaper, “The Northern Life”…and reprinted in a collection of Christmas stories called “Christmas In My Heart” volume 2, by Joe L. Wheeler…he has edited many volumes of “Christmas In My Heart”…I have bought a few of them…and would recommend them to you…they are available on Amazon.com and other places…

This is longer than my normal posts, hard as that is to believe…but true…it will take you a few minutes to read…but well worth reading…so sit back, relax and enjoy…I think this story will touch your heart…even if you have read it before…Merry Christmas…

Delayed Delivery by Cathy Miller

There had never been a winter like this, Stella watched from the haven of her armchair as gusts of snow whipped themselves into a frenzy. She feared to stand close to the window, unreasonably afraid that somehow the blizzard might be able to reach her there, sucking her, breathless, out into the chaos. The houses across the street were all but obliterated by the fury of windborne flakes. Absently, the elderly woman straightened the slipcovers on the arms of her chair, her eyes glued to the spectacle beyond the glass.

Dragging her gaze away from the window, she forced herself up out of her chair and waited a moment for balance to reassert itself. Straightening her back against the pain that threatened to keep her stooped, she set out determinedly for the kitchen.

In the doorway to the next room she paused, her mind blank, wondering what purpose had propelled her there. From the vent above the stove the scream of the wind threatened to funnel the afternoon storm directly down into the tiny house. Stella focused brown eyes on the stovetop clock. The three-fifteen time reminded her that she had headed in there to take something out of the freezer for her supper. Another lonely meal that she didn’t feel like preparing, much less eating.

Suddenly, she grabbed the handle of the refrigerator and leaned her forehead against the cold, white surface of the door as a wave of self-pity threatened to drown her. It was too much to bear, losing her beloved Dave this summer! How was she to endure the pain, the daily nothingness? She felt the familiar ache in her throat and squeezed her eyes tightly shut to hold the tears at bay.

Stella drew herself upright and shook her head in silent chastisement. She reiterated her litany of thanks. She had her health, her tiny home, an income that should suffice for the remainder of her days. She had her books her television programs, her needlework. There were the pleasures of her garden in the spring and summer, walks through the wilderness park at the end of her street, and the winter birds that brightened the feeders outside her kitchen picture window. Not today though, she thought ruefully, as the blizzard hurled itself against the eastern wall of the kitchen.

“Ah, Dave, I miss you so! I never minded storms when you were here,” The sound of her own voice echoed hollowly in the room. She turned on the radio that stood on the counter next to a neatly descending row of wooden canisters. A sudden joyful chorus of Christmas music filled the room, but it only served to deepen her loneliness.

Stella had been prepared for her husband’s death. Since the doctor’s pronouncement of terminal lung cancer, they had both faced the inevitable, striving to make the most of their remaining time together. Dave’s financial affairs had always been in order. There were no new burdens in her widowed state. It was just the awful aloneness…the lack of purpose to her days.

They had been a childless couple. It had been their choice. Their lives had been full and rich. They had been content with busy careers, and with each other.

They had had many friends. Had. That was the operative word these days. It was bad enough losing the one person you loved with all your heart. But over the past few years, she and Dave repeatedly had to cope with the deaths of their friends and relations. They were all of an age…the age when human bodies began giving up…dying. Face it…they were old!

And now, on this first Christmas without Dave, Stella would be on her own. Mable and Jim had invited her to spend the holiday with them in Florida, but somehow that had seemed worse than staying at home alone. Not only would she miss her husband, but she would miss the snow, and the winter and the familiarity of her home.

With shaky fingers, she lowered the volume of the radio so that the music became a muted background. She glanced toward the fridge briefly, then decided that a hot bowl of soup would be more comforting fare this evening.

To her surprise, she saw that the mail had come. She hadn’t even heard the creak of the levered mail slot in the front door. Poor mailman, out in this weather! “Neither hail, nor sleet…” With the inevitable wince of pain, she bent to retrieve the damp, white envelopes from the floor. Moving into the living room, she sat on the piano bench to open them. They were mostly Christmas cards, and her sad eyes smiled at the familiarity of the traditional scenes and at the loving messages inside. Carefully, her arthritic finger arranged them among the other clustered on the piano top. In her entire house, they were the only seasonal decoration. The holiday was less than a week away, but she just did not have the heart to put up a silly tree, or even set up the stable that Dave had built with his own hands.

Suddenly engulfed by the loneliness of it all, Stella buried her lined face in her hands, lowering her elbows to the piano keys in a harsh, abrasive discord, and let the tears come. How would she possible get through Christmas and the winter beyond it? She longed to climb into bed and bury herself in a cocoon of blankets, not emerging until her friends and spring returned.

The ring of the doorbell echoed the high-pitched, discordant piano notes and was so unexpected that Stella had to stifle a small scream of surprise. Now who could possibly be calling on her on a day like today? Wiping her eyes, she noticed for the first time how dark the room had become. The doorbell sounded a second time.

Using the piano for leverage, she raised herself upright and headed for the front hall, switching on the living room light as she passed. She opened the wooden door and stared through the screened window of the storm door in consternation. On her front porch, buffeted by waves of wind and snow, stood a strange, young man, whose hatless head was barely visible above the large carton in his arms. She peered beyond him to the driveway, but there was nothing about the small car to give clue to his identity. Returning her gaze to him, she saw that his hands were bare and his eyebrows had lifted in an expression of hopeful appeal that was fast disappearing behind the frost forming on the glass. Summoning courage, the elderly lady opened the door slightly and he stepped sideways to speak into the space.

“Mrs. Thornhope?”

She nodded affirmation, her extended arm beginning to tremble with cold and the strain of holding the door against the wind. He continued, predictably, “I have a package for you.”

Curiosity drove warning thoughts from her mind. She pushed the door far enough to enable the stranger to shoulder it and stepped back into the foyer to make room for him. He entered, bringing with him the frozen breath of the storm. Smiling, he placed his burden carefully on the floor and stood to retrieve an envelope that protruded from his pocket. As he handed it to her, a sound came from the box. Stella actually jumped. The man laughed in apology and bent to straighten up the cardboard flaps, holding them open in an invitation for her to peek inside. She advanced cautiously, then turned her gaze downward.

It was a dog! To be more exact, a golden Labrador retriever puppy. As the gentleman lifted its squirming body up into his arms, he explained, “This is for you, ma’am. He’s 6 weeks old and completely housebroken.” The young pup wiggled in happiness at being released from captivity and thrust ecstatic, wet kisses in the direction of his benefactor’s chin. “We were supposed to deliver him on Christmas Eve,” he continued with some difficulty, as he strove to rescue his chin from the wet little tongue, “But the staff at the kennels start their holidays tomorrow. Hope you don’t mind an early present.”

Shock had stolen her ability to think clearly. Unable to form coherent sentences, she stammered, “But…I don’t…I mean…who…?”

The young fellow set the animal down on the doormat between them and then reached out a finger to tap the envelope she was still holding.

“There’s a letter in there that explains everything, pretty much. The dog was bought last July while her mother was still pregnant. It was meant to be a Christmas gift. If you’ll just wait a minute, there are some things in the car I’ll get for you.”

Before she could protest, he was gone, returning a moment later with a huge box of dog food, a leash, and a book entitled Caring for Your Labrador Retriever. All this time the puppy had sat quietly at her feet, panting happily as his brown eyes watched her.

Unbelievably, the stranger was turning to go. Desperation forced the words from her lips. “But who….Who bought it?”

Pausing in the open doorway, his words almost snatched away by the wind that tousled his hair, he replied, “Your husband, ma’am.” And then he was gone.

It was all in the letter. Forgetting the puppy entirely at this sight of the familiar handwriting, Stella had walked like a somnambulist to her chair by the window. Unaware that the little dog had followed her, she forced tear-filled eyes to read her husband’s words. He had written it three weeks before his death and had left it with the kennel owners to be delivered along with the puppy as his last Christmas gift to her. It was full of love and encouragement and admonishments to be strong. He vowed that he was waiting for the day when she would join him. And he had sent her this young animal to keep her company until then.

Remembering the little creature for the first time, she was surprised to find him quietly looking up at her, his small panting mouth resembling a comic smile. Stella put the pages aside and reached down for the bundle of golden fur. She thought that he would be heavier, but he was only the size and weight of a sofa pillow. And so soft and warm. She cradled him in her arms and he licked her jawbone, then cuddled up into the hollow of her neck. The tears began anew at this exchange of affection and the dog endured her crying without moving.

Finally, Stella lowered him to her lap, where he regarded her solemnly. She wiped vaguely at her wet cheeks, then somehow mustered a smile.

“Well, little guy, I guess it’s you and me.” His pink tongue panted in agreement. Stella’s smile strengthened and her gaze shifted sideways to the window. Dusk had fallen, and the storm seemed to have spent the worst of its fury. Through fluffy flakes that were now drifting down at a gentler pace she saw the cheery Christmas lights that edged the roof lines of her neighbor’s homes. The strains of “Joy to the World” wafted in from the kitchen.

Suddenly Stella felt the most amazing sensation of peace and benediction washing over her. It was like being enfolded in a loving embrace. Her heart beat painfully, but it was with joy and wonder, not grief or loneliness. She need never feel alone again. Returning her attention to the dog, she spoke to him, “You know, fella, I have a box in the basement that I think you’d like. There’s a tree in it and some decorations and lights that will impress you like crazy! And I think I can find that old stable down there, too. What d’ya say we go hunt it up?” The puppy barked happily in agreement, as if he understood every word.

There are all kinds of jokes and stories about fruitcakes…there is one that says…there are only so many fruitcakes that have ever been made in the world and they are the same ones being given away every year…or the one that fruitcakes are good for something, like a doorstop…and another, that the post office this time of year puts out a warning…if you get a package with no return address, it is over 5 pounds and it smells funny, be careful, it may be a fruitcake…and it goes on and on…

But I can tell a story about fruitcake and about a woman who made them…it was my grandmother…Grandma Reggin, my mom’s mother…she is the only one I know who made fruitcake and did what is suppose to be done with them…gave them away…

Grandma was born in 1896…in fact she would have been 114 years old last July…she lived a little over 72 years…and she could cook and bake…and she made fruitcake…every year, I always ate a little fruitcake but never cared much for it…the candied fruit was a little much for me…but my Grandpa Reggin, he loved it…he loved the candied fruit, the nuts, the spices and the dark cake, full of flavor…he loved everything about fruitcake…and because he was a hero to me…I tried to eat it…but just couldn’t get into it…

My Grandma, at Christmas time, when people visited, would put out ample slices of fruitcake, and I would watch while the Hungry Boy cookies, the decorated sugar cookies and the date-filled cookies, that my Grandma was famous for, would disappear…but much of the fruitcake was still on the plate…

My Grandfather, as I said, loved fruitcake…and he really liked it with a real cup of coffee…(Grandpa was a coffee roaster for McGarvey Coffee Company in Minneapolis…I use to go and watch him roast those green beans that had no smell…into those dark beans we know as coffee beans…full of aroma)…and by a real cup of coffee, I mean he wanted one that, as he put it, “That I can stand a spoon up in.”…and maybe a little cream…and he would savor that fruitcake with that “real cup” of coffee…I can see that picture in my mind, and “I savor” that time with him…

So Grandma would make fruitcake…I mean she made fruitcake!…we lived next door to my grandparents and I went over there everyday…and close to Christmas every year she would begin to bake in earnest…she made pounds of fruitcake…wrapped them in waxed paper, “tin foil” and ribbon…and put them on the unheated covered back porch to keep fresh until she gave them away…she also made Hungry Boy cookies by the hundreds and other cookies to give away…she would give them to the paperboy, milkman, mailman, at the gas station, the meter reader…just anyone who provided service to her during the year…and off they would go with some cookies and of course a fruitcake to share at home…it was her gift of love at Christmas…

No doubt I loved Grandma very much…her modeling this love at Christmas…her unselfishness and devotion to others came out often…when anyone would criticize someone…she would say, “You just don’t understand.”…the idea was, if you only understood, you would not criticize…never an unkind word came out of her mouth, at least in my presence…she was without peer in that area of life…

I remember getting in the car with her and going down to pick up my Grandpa after work…I would go with her often when I was quite young…and especially the day or so before Christmas, when she and I would load up the old Plymouth with all the precious cargo she had made…go down to McGarvey’s and take the bounty into the office area and the giving would begin…

It was an large open office area…with all the desks in a row…and down at the far end, behind glass walls, were the offices of the president and other officers…and in we walked…Grandma in front and me trailing behind carrying my share…as we passed each desk, she would place some cookies, all wrapped up…and of course, a fruitcake at each desk…they all thanked her and talked to her as we went on with our Christmas giving…

And as we inched toward the president’s office, I was apprehensive…but my Grandmother was not…she was a simple woman…as people would look at her today and even then…but not to me and to those who knew her…she was kind, generous and loving…and did not hold a negative thought about anyone…nor that they would ever think anything negative about her…that was her attitude and it was disarming then as it is today…it didn’t really matter what the president or those in the other offices were doing, she would stand there patiently…and they would always stop what they were doing and come out to wish her “Merry Christmas”…talk for a while…thank her for her gifts and we would leave…I don’t know if anyone else could have got away with that…but she did…

So this wonderful woman, who spent some of her growing up years in an orphanage, because her mother could not take care of her…had four children…all raised in a house 20 feet by 40 feet…and out of that kitchen in that house came a legacy which I share with you today…one of giving and love…it was Grandma’s Christmas Fruitcake…

And at the end of her life…I sat on the hospital bed next to what had become a frail body of this marvelous woman…and leaned over and took her beautiful face in my hands…kissed her and told her again, the wonderful gospel story of Jesus…who came as a babe, who lived and died for her…who was waiting for her…to escort her home…and for the last time told her I loved her…and let her go…

I wish you Joy, Peace…and wonderful memories…Merry Christmas…

There are a million of them I suppose…Christmas stories, that is…I know I have a few to tell…and in the next few days I will let you read some…some are mine…some written by others…some just picked out of the air because they were there…

Let me go back about 16 years ago…I remember that time for a number of reasons…let me tell you of a couple…(and that couple are the stories I want to tell)…I was an assistant principal at a large high school, in Minnesota, at the time…anyway, I was still working…not retired, as I am now…that would seem like a long time ago to many of you…but now being in my dotage, that seems like just a few years…it was 1994…

I tell this story because I told it to the staff of our high school 3 years later when I was then the principal of the school…that was 1997…at Christmas I always wrote something for the staff…and read a story to the kids over the intercom…one of those will come in a later post…(reading to 15-18 year olds, over the intercom, is somewhat of a challenge and risk…but on the other hand, they love to be read to…so it worked)…but this one I wrote in an email to the staff…so, the very short story is from 1994 but shared with the staff in 1997…with a bit of editing, here it is:

“This year all our four boys, wives and families will be home for Christmas…it has been 3 years since all have been home…it will be good…

I grew up in a background where there was not much in the way of ‘things’…and like many of you, have endured some other hardships in our lives…and there will be more for all of us…but I have learned…in life, pain is inevitable but misery is optional…that it is not how we began but what we’ve become..and the ability to turn the sorrows of life into joy…

So, 3 years ago when our kids came home…I asked for one thing…just an evening, after all the grandkids were asleep…and for all of us to sit down and talk…we ended up around the Christmas tree in the family room with just the tree lights on…and in that glow, Judie and I began with a family history…generations back and up to the present…and then the journey of our life together…our struggles and triumphs, as husband and wife, as mother and father, and all of us as a family…and there were questions about how this went and that…there were tears, love…a wonderful time…a celebration…

For celebration comes from something good…and this is what I wish for you…peace and joy…to thank you and to celebrate this Christmas season together…”

I wrote that to the staff and one of the responses was a story in itself from a teacher who I worked with for years…I think it will touch you as it did me:

“That takes me back to my youth on the plains of North Dakota, when on Christmas Eve afternoon, my mother packed a shoebox of items to give to an old bachelor neighbor who lived by the river a mile south of us…I can still see the box and its contents: cookies, a Christmas napkin, a new handkerchief and a tin of Prince Albert pipe tobacco…About four o’clock, my dad and I walked to his place and gave it to him…It was a Hallmark scene and I can still see the snow falling and hear and feel the wind as it made small drifts on the path in the pasture…That was a long time ago, but I still take a walk on Christmas Eve afternoon around four o’clock…Even though my father has been gone for seventeen years, he still goes along just like he did on that special trip so long ago”…

Two short stories…I wish you Joy and Peace…and wonderful memories…