NEW YEAR’S

Now is the time to celebrate

The birth of a brand-new year,

A time for faith and hope and trust,

Not for worry or for fear.

No time to mope about the past,

But to look forward, instead.

Focus on a brighter future,

Envision great days ahead.

We know with each day problems come,

Every month’s another test,

Our whole lifetime’s built out of years,

Let’s make this new one the best.

We’ll seek out progress and success

As this new year passes by.

If we fail, let’s make sure it’s not

Because we just didn’t try.

We often can blame just ourselves

For defeats in early years.

We’ve ignored the success blueprint

Hidden right between our ears.

We’re all seeking a better way,

Hoping to “get in the groove,”

But things don’t just “fall into place”

We have to make the first move.

Most times there really is no need

To relocate, rove, or roam,

Often our “acres of diamonds”

Lie hidden right close to home.

So let’s get those brain cells working,

Be prepared to plan and dream.

Keep looking for the bright side, and

Find that winning theme or scheme.

Happiness follows clear thinking,

Persistence and strength of heart,

Making New Year’s Resolutions

Seems the perfect way to start!

THE STORY LIVES ON

In our hearts, the story lives on:
A dark night, with one bright star,
Angel choirs singing to greet
Three wise travelers from afar.

Before beginning their journey
They'd pondered which gifts to bring,
Then chose gold, myrrh, and frankincense
Fit gifts for The Newborn King.

At a stable, they joined shepherds
Who had left their flocks that night.
Walking to the songs of angels,
They, too, followed the star's light.

Together, both high and lowly,
Knelt down on the earthen floor
Before the babe in a manger,
To worship and to adore.

Could any of that group have guessed
That all else would fade away,
But that Baby in the manger
Would still be worshipped today.

CHRISTMAS SEASON

Once again, whether we are ready or not, the Christmas Season has arrived. Just as it does every year. A time when many folks find themselves busy. Perhaps more so than they should be. Sad to say, Some people wind up finding themselves too busy to really enjoy the great season.

There are last minute gifts to buy and food to prepare. There are plans to be made. Often travel plans, and at a time of year when the weather and road conditions can be anything but cooperative. Airports are often crowded with people who are frantically trying to work their way around flight cancellations so they can make it home for the holidays.

Christmas is a time for family and for friends. A time for people to enjoy the company of others. And a time that seems to bring out the best in people. A jolly season that can help us forget our problems. And forget that winter has just begun, and the long, cold month of January lies directly ahead of us.While driving at night, we can hardly help but feel our spirits lift as we view the Christmas lights that decorate homes and places of business.

Christmas is a time to reminisce. To drift back to childhood and try to recall the feelings of anticipation of the Great Day. At the country school attended, we decorated the schoolroom and put up a large tree. We all drew names and then each of us bought a small present for the person whose name we drew. These fits were placed under the tree.

Each year we put on a Christmas play, an evening event followed by a social meeting for parents and students. Santa Claus would appear just in time to hand out the fits beneath the tree, along with a paper sack of candy and mixed nuts for each student. A neighbor and family friend named Matt Schiffman was the best I've ever seen at playing that role. He was convincing enough to almost make believers out of some of us boys who were old enough to know better.

Christmas decorations were quite simple back then. Almost every family I knew put up and decorated a tree, often a small, freshly cut cedar tree. For appearance these could not begin to compare to the neatly pruned commercial spruce, fir, and pines available only with a homegrown tree.

Most of the Christmas trees in our neighborhood were decorated with a few strings of red roping and tinsel. Most had a star on top. There were few glass ornaments and so strings of lights. Later, shiny foil icicles became popular. Some children cut strips of paper and then, with paste, made loops, or links to form paper chains to hang on the tree. I"ve witnessed a few attempts to string popcorn for the tree, but most of these tries were short-lived, ending with few popped kernels on the strings, more kernels broken by the needle. And, eventually, most of the popcorn eaten by the unsuccessful stringers.

As the years went by, the Rural Electrification Act put electrical power into most of the farm homes. Small wreaths with a single lighted bulb in the center became available. Then, soon, thee were strings of six or eight colored lights. The aggravating kind, wired in series, so that when one bulb burned out the circuit was broken and they all went dark. A far cry from today's strings of a hundred or more bright colorful, blinking or marquee bulbs.

One way or another, the story of Christ's birth is still being told. As it has been for more than 2000 years.

A story has been handed down
As years have come and gone.
Still told to children by adults,
That great legend lives on.

The tale of a Savior who came
To cleanse us of all sin,
But no grand welcome did He find,
With no room at the inn.

We are told the Christ Child was born
In lowly stable small,
No proper place for Newborn King -
Fit for no child at all.

The angel choirs sang out for joy
On that first Christmas Day.
Shepherds, in wonder, gathered 'round
The manger where He lay.

Now, years later, we enjoy great
Old songs carolers sing.
On Christmas Morn, faithful gather
When the glad church bells ring.

We all await the peace and joy
The great day holds in store
And, in our hearts, almost become
As small children once more.

As Christmas fills our lives, and hearts,
All other gifts seem small
When compared to God's gift of love,
The Greatest Gift of all.

WINTER

Each year, late autumn begins dropping hints as to what lies ahead. Day by day the cooling temperatures remind us of the coming of winter. Another Midwest winter with all of its snow and cold, its slippery, icy roads, and its cancelled activities and appointments. Winter, with its huge (this year exceptionally huge) home-heating fuel bills. Such weather is really nothing new. We’ve all been there before.

Everyone loves springtime. The bright, warm days and new plans for the coming summer. And all of that fresh, new, green growth. Many of us look forward to the return of the songbirds and the northward migration of waterfowl.

As we move through the summer, we may begin to complain about the heat and the insects. And about all the work the lawn and garden require. Also the air-conditioning costs. But, overall, most of us are usually quite happy and content. We can usually find a spot of shade where we can sit and relax and think. The warm weather makes possible many sports and other outdoor activities. And who can remain unhappy long when surrounded by our beautiful green fields, hills, and bluffs. And our great rivers and

streams.

Even long after retirement, many of us who grew up on farms still thrill to the growth progress we see in the roadside cornfields. As we drive by, we watch for fields in which the young plants have reached the “knee-high stage.” Next we keep an eye out for “hip-high corn,” and later for corn that is “shoulder-high.” Next, it is the “tasseling out” and “shooting ears” stages. Lush, healthy green of knee-high, weed-free fields of soybeans and alfalfa can have a calming, almost healing effect on a worried, troubled soul.

Next comes autumn, which is most people’s favorite season of all, and the one we would least want to miss out on. When the hardwood trees and sumac begin to don their bright clothing, it is almost as if we are in a different world, one with its own sights, sounds, and smells. Fall is a great season for nostalgia. For remembering countless great times we have enjoyed in many autumns long gone by.

After the bright leaves have fallen, we know that it will be only a short time until the landscape will be wearing a white blanket of snow. And then we must face that annual question: Go or stay? Do we really want to remain here to face another frigid and angry winter? Or should we join the “snow birds,” and head for a warmer southern clime?

So far, except for occasional trips that are two or three weeks in length, we have always opted to remain here in the frosty Snow Belt. Perhaps we are in a rut. Or maybe just content with our regular routine here at home. Or curious to see just what the heck is going to happen next around here. No, I can’t say that we really enjoy winter all that much. But we also have no real desire to leave.

WINTER

Early morning radioSays,

“No school, because of snow.

And no basketball, as well.”

Tomorrow? Too soon to tell

Beneath dark and brooding sky

White snowdrifts are soon knee-high,

Raging north wind howls and roars,

A good day to stay indoors

All day long this storm will rage,

Best check the fuel tank’s gauge,

Keep all doors and windows locked,

Be thankful our shelves are stocked

Make sure the snow shovel’s near,

Check all snow removal gear,

Everything we’ll need and use,

Mittens, scarves, and overshoes

Wind-driven snow moves and shifts

Front walk hides ‘neath waist-deep drifts.

Driveway heaped from street to door

Snowplow will add a lot more.

Power lines must all be down

Up on the north end of town.

Neighbor gives a friendly call –

No heat at the bingo hall

Friends in Arizona boast,

Weather down there’s warm as toast.

They phone just to rub it in,

I can almost see them grin.

Winter visits us each year,

But what do have we to fear?

Just the thought of spring’s warm smile,

Almost makes this all worthwhile.

Truly, what could be more grand

Than this winter wonderland?

Wouldn’t it seem sadly strange

Not to see the seasons change?

So far, this winter’s been rough,

The next month could still be tough.

’Though right now we’re in a bind,

Can springtime be far behind?

THANKSGIVING

For me, Thanksgiving has always been kind of a special holiday. Farm children can easily relate to celebrating, and giving thanks for, a bountiful harvest or a successful hunt. And I always have loved food.

One year, Gloria and I celebrated Thanksgiving in the Boston area with our son Mick. I thought it was great to be able to celebrate right in the area of the very first Thanksgiving. But I found that there are some mixed feelings about the great day.

Each year, hundreds and even thousands of members of the United American Indians of New England, along with many of their friends and supporters, gather on Cole’s Hill, an area that overlooks Plymouth Rock, to observe their “National Day of Mourning.” A sad occasion brought about by the survival of the Pilgrim colonies and the colonization of America. The day is devoted to prayers and speeches.

One of their elders, Mahtowin Munro informed the crowd, “As Native Americans, we have no reason to give thanks for the European invasion of our land, and the genocide of our people. We are also here to talk about the continuing racism and oppression that we still face today.”

“We celebrated the first Thanksgiving with the settlers, and after that they took the land of the Native Americans,” said Edwin W. Morse, “Chief Wise Owl,” leader of the Chaubunagungamaug band of the Nipmuc tribe. “Indians saved the settlers and taught them how to survive – fed them and kept them alive. Every day is a feast day for Indians. Each day when we have dinner we thank the Creator.”

This autumn congregation of the Native Americans has not always been welcomed with open arms. In 1997, violence broke out. Twenty-five Indians were arrested. After the dust had settled, the town of Plymouth agreed to dismiss all charges if the protesters promised not to pursue misconduct charges against the police. It also agreed to put $100,000 into an education fund that would focus on American Indian history, to pay for the legal fees of the protesters, and to spend $15,000 for a plaque that will explain history from the point of view of native peoples. Its message will be a reminder of the genocide of millions of people, the theft of their lands, and the relentless assault on their culture.

We celebrated our Thanksgiving in the East much as we always have here at home, with turkey, dressing, and all the “fixin’s.” We really enjoyed our first trip to New England with its “stern and rock-bound coast.” I’m sure there will never be a shortage of rocks and boulders out there. We loved visiting the smaller villages. Each had a “common.” In early days these park-like, grassy areas were used as meeting places in the time of emergencies. Many now have plaques and statues to honor their founders and heroes. And tell of important happenings of bygone days.

New England architecture has its own style. And it appears great efforts are made to adhere to this. Almost no glitz or golden arches. Sometimes it is difficult to distinguish a fast food restaurant or a filling station from establishments that are centuries old. I had only a few complaints with the area. There seemed to be a decided shortage of public restrooms. And those found in the places of business are there strictly for the use of customers only!

We really enjoyed a parade in Douglas, Mass. Riding a trolley, we wound up right in the parade itself, waving to the crowds gathered along the streets, just as if we belonged there. Then we watched a long line of parents with small children wait for as long as two hours just to visit with Santa Claus. As the dark of night descended, we witnessed the “lighting of the common.” The mayor threw a giant (dummy) switch and all of the trees were simultaneously lighted with myriads of colored Christmas lights. Then followed a period of carol singing. It was a Thanksgiving week we will long remember.

THANKSGIVING

In the kitchen, women’s faces

Glowed from heat and pride and sweat,

Putting our noon meal on, knowing

It was their best effort yet.

Big old gobbler from the farmyard

Filled the roaster to the brim.

He steamed real good on the platter;

We sure did our best on him.

Our meal was a feast, the biggest

And best I have yet to taste.

And there’s lots of good leftovers,

I know none will go to waste.

As we sat down at the table,

Grandpa Lowther said a prayer.

He talked of that first Thanksgiving

Just as if he had been there.

Uncle Lige Craig said, “We like to

Hear about those days of old,

But pass down them mashed p’taters

Before they start getting cold.”

It’s been dark for several hours now.

The sun’s slipped behind the hills,

But I’m not ready for supper,

I’m still filled up to my gills

With too much Thanksgiving turkey,

‘Taters, pumpkin pie, and squash,

But I’ll give it my best effort.

I’ll be no quitter, by gosh!

I’ve never been strong on history,

But there’s no way I can see

That the Pilgrims and the Indians

Had as good a day as me.

THE SHUNNING OF SAUL McGREW

Some years ago a young fellow came up to me during a break in the action at a poetry reading and told me that my poems reminded him a lot of the work of Robert W. Service. I thanked him. I'll take a compliment anywhere I can get it. My Gosh! Robert W. Service yet! Almost every red-blooded young man has read "The Shooting of Dan McGrew." Maybe even memorized parts of it. And perhaps heard and memorized some of the downright bawdy versions and revisions that have cropped up from time to time. And then there was "The Cremation of Sam McGee." I liked "The Spell Of the Yukon" best of all. Some of that rhyme was written so well that it almost gave me goose bumps. Almost to the point where, as an old fellow once said, he "almost hankered to start sprouting a few feathers."

I basked awhile in the glow of the kind compliment, then filed it away in my memory, where it remained untouched and uncalled for, until several weeks ago. A rerun of the TV show "Northern Exposure" found Dr. Joel Fleishman becoming homesick for his native New York City. In all that town of Cicely and the surrounding area, he had found not one other person of Jewish descent. Joel confided in the pompous, influential ex-astronaut, Maurice Minnefield, who wasted no time in trying to assure the young doctor that he was not alone. That he was not the first of the Chosen People to venture north into the cold and untamed land--and he pointed out various mountain peaks that had the names to prove it.

Politics, Not Royalty, Should Dominate Playing Cards

I enjoy a few games of cards occasionally, but can never really get excited about playing. Shuffling that same deck all afternoon or evening becomes too much like just sitting there spinning one's wheels.

My mind tends to drift off to other things: All those kings and queens! What is this fixation we still have with royalty? After the Revolutionary War why didn't some loyal colonist design a new, truly American deck? One with presidents, veeps, chief justices and secretaries of state? The cards could display caricatures or photos of the actual office holders. After elections, card sales would boom as players brought their equipment up to date. Certainly no one would want to play with an obsolete deck. Old decks would quickly become valuable collectors items.

All of the card games I play are "male-oriented,' with the kings outranking the queens. Even the jacks, when they happen to be the bowers of trump, can pull rank on the queens. Where are all of our militant feminists? Why aren't they beating against the glass ceiling that prevents our poor queens from attaining equal power? We could change the rules perhaps allow the red kings to outrank the red queens and the black queens dominate the black kings. But that would be too confusing. And smack a bit of
discrimination by color..

And then there is the matter of those male jacks. If we are really seeking sexual equality, we should add female counterparts to the deck. The simplest way to accomplish this would be to give each sexless ace a gender – make each a feminine card. We could decorate them with pictures of beautiful ladies. But not attractive or suggestive enough to raise the hackles of those who have fought so valiantly and long to eliminate the bathing suit competition from beauty contests.

As long as our deck of cards is already committed to royalty, why not add a princess? A jack is often referred to as a knave. It is not unlikely that a princess card would at times be called a wench, or worse.

What would I suggest for a proper illustration for each of our new ace-princess cards? You have to be kidding. There is only one real princess! Each ace should be given a tasteful caricature of Britain's beautiful Diana, Princess of Wales, complete with her blonde hair and those soulful eyes as big as saucers (no aces wild jokes, please). No, I am not a devout member of Princess Diana's fan club. I am still actually a mite piqued that she didn't come out and say, "Hello," or at least wave, when we walked past her Kensington Palace a year ago last fall. Oh, sure, I realize she was probably busy doing "princess things," or whatever it is that a princess does. I'm no historian, but the lovely Princess Diana must certainly be the brightest star to have illuminated that whole royal facade for centuries.

Back to our deck of cards. We still have the joker to deal with – a male card usually portrayed as a court jester. The joker isn't used in all card games. Maybe we could get by with letting that one remain a male card. We still haven't given an assignment to
Prince Charles....

PLAYING CARDS

With much of my life behind me
I look back now and I see
So many plans unfinished, with
Much missed opportunity.

The wasted time, the days, the years
That brought me no real rewards –
Hours watching television and,
Much worse yet, just playing cards.

In most types of activities –
Almost anything I do -
If I keep my eyes wide open,
I can learn a thing or two,

But playing cards makes few demands
On a lazy human mind.
The brain can just relax and leave
All thoughts of progress behind.

Most anyone can "talk the talk,"
Even the loud and obscene:
"If you'd just played your goddam Ace,
Then led back the friggin' Queen ...."

"I haven't held a decent hand
They just don't deal me a thing!"
"All I had was the Ten and Left He
had the Right and King."

"Stop peeking at my cards or I
Will quit. For just once play fair!"
"To change my luck I will get up
And walk right around my chair."

Yes, I have spent a lot of time
That's brought me no great rewards,
But my one regret's all the time
That I've wasted playing cards.