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“All of these things reflect the importance of the New Year, which is a new beginning in every way. Clearing up unfinished business of whatever kind is still a good notion, and blowing away the cobwebs from the old year that has passed is no bad thing, either.” John Matthews in his book, “The Winter Solstice: The Sacred Traditions Of Christmas.” It was published in 1998 by Quest Books.

 Matthews also writes this about New Year’s Eve: “This night was the night when everything that could be was tidied up, cleaned, washed or polished. As F. Marian McNeill points out in her wonderful collection of folk-customs, The Silver Bough: ‘The house received a mini spring-cleaning. Slops and ashes, which are usually removed in the morning, are carried out. Debts must be paid, borrowed articles returned, stockings darned, tears mended, clocks wound up, musical instruments tuned, pictures hung straight; brass and silver must be glittering; fresh linen must be put on the beds. … brooms and pails, soap, polishing rags and darning-needles emerge from neglected cupboards and drawers, and the bairns receive a thorough scrubbing in honor of the New Year.‘”

A traditional greeting at your door when first opened to a visitor in the New Year was, “Welcome to the light of the New Year / And welcome he/she who brings it here!”

Just the other day my son and I were out to buy a new catcher for his position as goalie in rep hockey. We passed by a neighbor’s house with repairmen on the roof. They were laying down new shingles. I commented to my son that the homeowner had probably found a leak over the holidays. That’s the only reason that would require you to be making repairs in winter. That kind of work is usually done during the warmer months. It reminded me of this quaint superstition: “Make a start on your year’s work between Christmas and January 5th–a bit of ditching, a little plowing–to ’show your intentions.’ But never fix your roof between Christmas and New Year’s or the holes will come right back.” That’s a superstition from the Reader’s Digest edition, “The Best Literature Of Christmas.”

How do you plan to spend New Year’s Eve? Will it be a large gathering, or just a quiet evening with a few special friends? Do you plan to spend it with your immediate family, or alone? Whatever your plans, I hope you will join us on CHFI for our special New Year’s Eve Party hosted by Michelle Butterly. I can’t think of better company for whatever you have planned. It would be so romantic to usher in the New Year in a grand ballroom, but a portable radio in the kitchen is just as romantic, as long as the person you’re sharing it with is the only person you want to welcome in 2008 with.

I will be on the show sometime between 11 and midnight tonight with my special wish for a healthy and bountiful New Year. I hope you will tune in and count down the minutes to midnight with us! I’d also like to invite you to read my other posting that went into my blog earlier tonight. It’s called “New Year’s Eve R.I.D.E.” It features a very scary personal experience caused by a drunk driver.

Thomas Mann wrote: “Time has no divisions to mark its passage; there is never a thunderstorm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. Even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells…”

Have you ever wondered why we make so much noise to accompany the beginning of the New Year? This is an excerpt from the Reader’s Digest edition “Why In The World: All You Ever Wanted To Know About The World Around You But May Never Have Thought To Ask!” “It’s a custom that has spread from Europe to many parts of the world. The clock ticks away the seconds of the dying year and suddenly, on the last stroke of midnight, the waiting crowds let out a cacophony of sound. Voices shout, bells ring, car horns and factory hooters blast away, all in a concerted bid to make as much noise as possible.

“‘Ring out the old, ring in the new’ is a comparatively recent explanation of a superstition that has figured in New Year celebrations since pagan times. For centuries, in the Scottish Highlands, villagers carrying sticks and dried cowhides surrounded one another’s houses each New Year’s Eve. As midnight came, they thrashed the walls with clubs and beat their sticks against the cowhides, chanting and shouting as loudly as they could. It was a rite designed to drive out the fairies, demons and spirits of the old year.

“The same ritual–a superstitious clearing of the air to give the New Year a fair chance to bring good fortune–has been handed on, though possibly few revellers today understand why they are called upon to make such a racket at midnight.”

“The Southern Christmas Book” by Harnett T. Kane, published in 1958, stated: “On New Year’s Eve, a few minutes before midnight, throw open every door and window, no matter what the weather–rain, snow, sleet, or wind. The good results will justify any exposure short of fatal pneumonia.”

“New Year’s Eve celebrations are filled with custom and superstition. The large parties, ringing of bells, kissing at midnight, all have roots stretching back to a time before history was recorded. One of the most enduring superstitions is that what you do on New Year’s Eve you will be doing for the rest of the year. Perhaps that is why so many of us hope to spend this night with those for whom we have special feelings. Whether we plan a quiet evening with a friend, a warm family gathering, or a huge party with all our acquaintances gathered around us, there is still the acknowledgement of time passing, a recollection of achievement of the past year, and the hopeful feeling that in the coming year we can make at least a few of our resolutions a reality. To honor that moment and those relationships that we hold dear, we kiss our loved ones at midnight and raise a toast, to our past and our future.” An excerpt from the 1984 “Avon Calendar Of Roses.” It was published by The Ariel Press Ltd.

 Again, in the Reader’s Digest edition, “Why In The World…” was this: ”Ancient beliefs assert that what happens in the first few moments of the year decides everything for the next twelve months. That is why, in a superstition that probably started with the Scots, whoever is first to cross a threshold on New Year’s Day is believed to bring the household much or little luck. The reasons why the ideal first-footer should be tall and dark are lost in time. … In years gone by, some superstitious families considered a good first-footer to be so essential that they hired one to enter the house as the New Year arrived, rather than risk many months of misfortune.

“Usually, the first-footers carry a lump of coal, a gift to ensure that the home will always be warm and friendly. At one time, they also gave the head of the family a coin and a piece of bread, symbolizing wealth and ample food. For good luck in the year ahead, something must come into a house before anything is taken out.

“First-footing is one of many traditions linked with those opening moments of the year. Another, still observed in some parts of Europe and America, is to open a Bible at random and, without looking, point to a spot on the page. The passage is believed to indicate in some way what the year holds in store. Some families invite the first-footer to perform the custom, then reward him with the last drink from a bottle, another New Year good-luck custom–and a generous one if it’s the only bottle in the house.” Something to consider before you open the door to greet any latecomers after midnight, or when you open the door first thing on New Year’s Day.

“Ring in the nobler modes of life, / With sweeter manners, purer laws. / The larger heart, the kindlier hand.” A quote from Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Robert Lynd concludes with the one superstition we always observe as the New Year lies on the horizon: “On the approach of a New Year, we, too, can believe in something better than experience has justified us in hoping for.”

I wish you a happy, healthy, prosperous, safe and peaceful New Year!!

***

Don Jackson

It’s late at night and the weather is usually cold and wet. They stand out in the elements, flashlight in hand, waving each car through their checkpoints. I am always more than happy to slow my vehicle to a stop, roll down my window and chat for a moment or two with these officers who are doing their part to make our streets safe.

I’ve only ever been hit once by a drunk driver, but that was enough. I don’t ever want to experience that again…

It happened back in the 1980s. I was driving home from work in Montreal. I had pulled up to a stoplight that was red, and I was thankful the cross-street traffic was light. A few cars pulled up behind me. I was not looking in my rear-view mirror when it happened. I was looking straight ahead waiting for my light to turn green. A moment later, my world changed. I will never forget the sound of the impact and the fierce jolt. I remember being thrown against the steering wheel. The force of the impact was so great that I ended up out in the middle of oncoming traffic. I looked out the driver’s side window and saw headlights, but the vehicle was able to stop in time. I opened my door to get out and saw the drivers behind me getting out of their cars. We were all fortunate there were no major injuries considering the tremendous force of the impact.

At the time I had no idea the driver was under the influence. I found this out later when the police cars arrived on scene. When the police officer asked the driver to step out of his vehicle, he stumbled and fell onto the pavement. There was a passenger in his car. The passenger was sober. I wondered how that person could have been a passenger in a car driven by someone who was obviously in no condition to drive.

At the time we could have used a R.I.D.E program like the one that is currently in force in Toronto. With this kind of prevention program, the driver might have been caught before the accident happened.

In recent years we have all been made aware of the carnage that can be the result of those who don’t get the message about drinking and driving. TV and radio ads try to get the message out, especially at this time of the year. I wanted to take a few lines in my blog to tell you about my own experience. Today, when I pull up to a spot-check, I am more than happy to co-operate with the officers who do their duty standing out in the cold night.

If you have to be on the road tonight make sure you designate a driver. Call a cab for those at a party you feel need a ride home. Welcome overnight guests. Don’t hesitate to take away a set of car keys from a driver who should NOT be on the road. If you’re hosting a party, ensure there are non-alcoholic drinks available.

To all the police officers who will be on duty tonight, I’d like to wish you a very peaceful start to 2008. We all appreciate your service this night. To all firefighters, ambulance paramedics and hospital staff on duty, I hope it’s a quiet night for you, too.

Here’s to a safe start to the New Year!!

***

Don Jackson

“The nightingales are sobbing in / The orchards of our mothers, / And hearts that we broke long ago / Have long been breaking others…”  An excerpt from Master and Boatswain from Collected Poems of W.H. Auden

This is called Only the Human Heart by Ida Norton Munson “The robin never looks / At last year’s brittle nest / Hushes his song, and feels grief tear his breast./

“Only the human heart / Holds close its dearest thing, / And bears the wounds, the scars, / Their going brings.”  A poem included in the collection, The Treasure Chest, edited by Charles L. Wallis, and published in 1965 by Harper and Row, publishers.

In the film City of Angels, “A restless angel, Seth (Nicholas Cage) who is on duty in Los Angeles, encounters Dr. Maggie Rice (Meg Ryan), a pragmatic heart surgeon whose sense of control is deeply shaken by losing a patient on her table for no apparent reason. Although Seth is there to aid the dying man, he is immediately drawn to Maggie and wants to help her overcome her crisis of confidence. In the process, he falls in love with her and longs for the sensory world he has observed but cannot experience.” That from the back of Rogers’ video box of the film when it was released initially on video.

Michael Proust said, “Love is space and time measured by the heart.”

P.J. Bailey said, “I have a heart with room for every joy.”

This is called The Size of Your Heart - author unknown. “It isn’t the size of your house as such / That matters so much at all. / It’s the gentle hand and loving touch, / That make it great or small.

“The friends who come and the hour they / Who out of your house - depart, / Will judge it not by the style you show, / - But rather, by the size of your heart.

“It isn’t the size of your head so much, / It isn’t the wealth you found, / That will make you happy - It’s how you touch / The lives that are all around.

“For making money is not hard - / To live life well is an art: / How people love you, how they regard, / Is all in the size of your heart.”

Zelda Fitzgerald said, “Nobody has ever measured - even poets - how much the heart can hold.”

Antoine de Saint-Exupery wrote, “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; / What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Sometimes, in order to see we must close our eyes and see with our hearts.

***

Don Jackson

“Why is it no one pays attention to the light until it’s covered by darkness?” An excerpt from one of the scripts in the hit TV series, Touched By An Angel, and featured in the collection When Angels Speak: Inspiration From Touched By An Angel, compiled by Martha Williamson, Executive Producer, and published by Fireside Books.

William Bradford wrote: “One small candle may light a thousand.”

“A candle left burning all night in an empty room on Christmas Eve would bring light, warmth and plenty all year.” That superstition from a book of Christmas Memories published in 1993 by Better Homes and Gardens, an imprint of Meredith Books in Des Moines.

This is an excerpt from the Reader’s Digest collection Why In The World: All You Ever Wanted To Know About The World Around You But May Never Have Thought To Ask! published in 1994. “Old customs die and, like smouldering embers, spring suddenly to life again. From the earliest times, light has signified comfort and joy, and darkness the fear of the unknown. Ancient peoples, aware of the changing seasons, lit fires to encourage the return of spring. Romans, during their Saturnalia, decked their homes with lighted candles and greenery. … Long before the birth of Christ, Jews marked their winning of religious freedom by holding an eight-day Festival of Lights. In early Christian times, Pope Gelasius proclaimed Candlemas, February 2, as the day for blessing candles in church… From these origins came the medieval custom of burning a mammoth Christmas candle whose light, it was hoped, would glow until Twelfth Night. When we put candles or fairy lights on a Christmas tree today, we are following the traditions of ancient Rome, or those passed on from Martin Luther, whose tree glowed with lighted tapers.”

In A Christmas Tree written in 1850, Charles Dickens wrote: “The tree was planted in the middle of a great round table, and towered high above their heads. It was brilliantly lighted by a multitude of little tapers; and everywhere sparkled and glittered with bright objects.”

“When is it that the gold of a Christmas bauble seems most brilliant, the shimmer of tree lights most expressive? It is when a child is nigh–sleeping quietly, as did the Babe in the Christmas story, or standing at the foot of the tree, spellbound. To adults, a tree trimmed with family treasures and the most beautiful adornments to be found is a thing of inspiration. But to a child, hushed and reverent, it is pure magic.” An excerpt from an article and pictorial in the December 1993 issue of Victoria, contributing editor,Susan George-Calsmer. 

“Red, green and white have long been associated with the Christmas season. Red, the color of greatest excitement, represents fire, blood, and charity. Green is the symbol of nature, youth, and the hope of eternal life. Christmas is a feast of hope… White stands for light, purity, joy, and glory. We see white in the robes of the angels and in holiday decorations and snow.” Again an excerpt from the 1993 Christmas Memories published by Better Homes and Gardens.

I would like to refer you back to a recent blog called The Christmas Tree. One of the ornaments on our main tree is a Li Bien ornament. As it said in the accompanying literature, “In Chinese, the phrase ‘Li Bien’ means “inside.’ The Li Bien ornament showcases the age-old skill of inside painting. Through a small opening in the ornament, the artist repeatedly inserts a miniature brush to paint the artwork. The process is painstaking and time consuming requiring two days to paint each ornament. The resulting ornament is a beautiful, one-of-a-kind keepsake.” It also reflects the lights on the tree beautifully.

One last thought about the light, a light that shone brilliantly in the mind of a mystery person in the States. I tell this story every year at this time because it is one of those true mysteries of Christmas that continues to inspire me. For well over ten years–without fail and lasting until the time of this writing–a Christmas miracle took place on a lonely stretch of highway just north of Phoenix, Arizona. Late one night, a stranger, at what I would imagine was great risk to his or her own personal safety, decorated a huge juniper tree that sat in the median of Interstate 17, 120 kilometers north of Phoenix. It was quite a feat considering how huge this tree was. How this one person accomplished this in one single overnight period is beyond the comprehension of most local residents. It could have been undertaken by more than one person. The thing is no one had ever seen it taking place in real time. They woke up one morning in December and it was done. Drivers on the interstate would always be amazed to see it completely decorated from its lofty tip right down to its base. It’s against the law to do this on highway property in Arizona but the police didn’t seem to be in a hurry to apprehend the culprit. You see, after the holidays, the person returned late one night and took away all the decorations. The tree stood bare until it was done again the following year. Remember this was done faithfully every year for ten years until the time of this writing in 1995.  It may still be going on for all I know. The reason behind the mystery? We may never know, but it “lightened” the hearts and spirits of all the drivers who drove past it. It is a Christmas mystery that I don’t think should ever be solved.

***

Don Jackson

“Leave a loaf of bread on the table after Christmas Eve supper and you will have a full supply until the next Christmas.” A superstition from the Reader’s Digest collection, The Best Literature Of Christmas.

As we helped Santa wrap the gifts late last night, my wife and I watched Scrooge the colorized version of the 1951 classic, A Christmas Carol with Alastair Sim. I think I much prefer the original black-and-white version. We watch one version or the other every Christmas Eve. It’s become a Christmas Eve ritual.

“How the season telescopes itself upon us. Christmas drops a plumb line down through the years! My father, a young man, sits at the end of the dining room table as we finish our Christmas morning breakfast, eating in desperation because we know we must–it is the family rule–before we go in together to our laden Christmas tree. My father leans forward: ‘I think I’d better go down to the office,’ he says. ‘You don’t mind waiting an hour or two, do you?’ It is part of the ritual, and we shriek our ritual protests.

“Moving back and forth from kitchen to dining room now, getting ready for supper, I looked into the living room at my own family circle–my husband, our four handsome teenaged children–and, for these few days, Hoyt’s mother and father adding their special presence to our family scene. … Warmed, made content by all of this … I realized I was singing softly to myself. ‘We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing,’ I sang. I smiled–a Thanksgiving song and it’s Christmas. I know why.  But–Joy to the world, I thought. Joy to the world!” An excerpt from the writing of Martha Whitmore Hickman and featured as a complement to the beautiful holiday paintings of Thomas Kinkade in the collection I’ll Be Home For Christmas, compiled by Anne Christian Buchanan and published in 1997 by Harvest House Publishers. Its ISBN is 1-56507-594-3.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas Eve last night. I also hope you heard my wife and family on our special Christmas Eve program at Erin’s home. Again, I’d like to thank her and her family for welcoming us warmly into their home at this very special time of year.

By now I would imagine all the gifts have been opened unless you’re still waiting for late visitors to your home and hearth. “Christmas has come; / Let every man / Eat, drink and be merry all he can. / No matter what lies / In the bowls, / We’ll make it rich with our own souls.” William Henry Davies quoted in an article called A Caroler’s Supper with Feasting and Mirth in the December 1990 issue of Victoria magazine.

“Now all our neighbors’ chimneys smoke and Christmas logs are burning; their ovens with baked meats do choke, and all their spits are turning. /Without the door let sorrow lie, / And if for cold it hap to die, / We’ll bury it in Christmas pie.” George Wither from the Reader’s Digest collection, The Best Literature Of Christmas.

“Indoors, the fire is glowing on the wide hearth, a great bed of coals that will last all night and be enough … and the older people sit round it not saying much, and thinking with their hearts rather than with their heads, but small boys and girls know that interesting things have been happening in the kitchen all afternoon, and the grown-ups and the children have made up any little differences of opinion they may have had, before supper time, because good-will must reign, and reign alone.” F. Marion Crawford from The Little City Of Hope, published by HarperCollins.

My wife is busily making final preparations for our Christmas dinner while I write this blog. There will be candles on our table as well as in the sconces on the walls. This was another excerpt from that Reader’s Digest collection. “The Yule candles used long ago in France and England were so huge that holes had to be chiseled in the stone floors to serve as holders. Christmas dinner lasted as long as the candles burned.” And this traditional prayer said when the Yule log is lighted, from that same collection: “May the fire of this log warm the cold; may the hungry be fed; may the weary find rest, and may all enjoy Heaven’s peace.”

We’ll also have Christmas crackers at each place setting. This is the history of the “cracker.” They are a British tradition dating back to Victorian times when a confectioner sold sugared almonds, each with a motto and wrapped in a twisted paper package, as love tokens. “On Christmas Day a jet of resin from the confectioners log fire burst into flame with a loud ‘crack’. Using this idea he decided to make a log-shaped package that would produce a surprise bang and inside would be an almond and a motto. It soon became a firm favorite at parties with toys and hats added to each ‘cracker’. By the end of the century it was well established as a traditional Christmas custom and now each year virtually every household in the U. K. has at least one box of party crackers to pull at meal times, parties and family gatherings over the holiday season.” That was the written legend accompanying a box of crackers.

“The ceremonial Christmas drink in England was once lamb’s wool: a mixture of hot ale, sugar, spices, eggs and roasted apples. Thick cream was sometimes added. It was served in a wassail bowl with pieces of toast floated on top. Hence, the origin of the drinking toast.” Again from the Reader’s Digest collection. And be sure to designate a driver this holiday season…

“Let every pudding burst with plums, / And every tree bear dolls and drums, / In the week when Christmas comes. / Let every hall have boughs of green, / With berries glowing in between, / In the week when Christmas comes.” Eleanor Farjeon from that Reader’s Digest collection.

“The dessert was splendid as ever, with its golden oranges; brown nuts, … and apple jelly… Christmas was as it had always been…” George Eliot from The Mill On The Floss.

“At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put on the table, and a shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew around the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half of one; and at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display of glass, two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle. These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed: ‘A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us all!’ Which all the family re-echoed. ‘God bless us everyone!’ said Tiny Tim, last of all.”

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas dinner today…

***

Don Jackson

One very special Christmas memory of mine is of Christmas Eve a few years before my children were born. We went to a little church close to where we live for midnight services. There were candelabra at the altar, choir-loft and at the entrance to each pew along the aisle. Candlelight illuminated the church in a very soft but warm glow. We were each handed a tapered candle as we walked in. At the conclusion of the service each candle was lit and the flame passed from one person to the next down the rows as the choir and congregation stood to sing “Silent Night.” It reminded of a line from William Shakespeare: “These blessed candles of the night.”

We may owe the creation of the carol “Silent Night” to a little mouse. This crossed our wire-services some years back. “One of the most famous Christmas carols is “Silent Night.” Legend has it that we owe it all to a mouse…

“It was a snowy, Christmas Eve in 1818. A young parish priest, Father Joseph Mohr, huddled before the fire and scribbled three short stanzas of verse for his first midnight mass in Oberndorf, Austria. He asked his organist, Franz Gruber, to put the poem to music. Gruber did, but it had to be played that night on the guitar because of a mouse hole in the organ bellows. That might have been the end of “Silent Night.” But the man who came to fix the organ heard the song and asked for a copy. He took it home and taught it to a family of singers. They were heard by a royal court musician, who in turn played it for the King of Saxony. The King loved it and had the cathedral choir sing it every year. Before long, “Silent Night” became a favorite Christmas carol the world over.” Apparently the Queen of Saxony loved the carol as well.

 The carol actually made its debut on December 25th, 1818. It was performed for the first time at the Church of St. Nikolaus. “The carol was originally known as “Song From Heaven.”

“The biggest-selling recording of “Silent Night” [in years past] was the one recorded by Bing Crosby on Decca Records in 1942. It is said to have sold more than seven-million copies. Crosby donated all the royalties from the disc to a fund for American missions in China and to finance an entertainment unit for the American Forces.” This according to “Today in Music History,” also from our wire-services on December 25th, 1996.

There is a story about Christmas that haunts me. The year was 1914, and the world was at war. It was Christmas on the Western Front and all was quiet for the first time since the war began. An eerie calm settled over the war-ravaged countryside as well as in the muddy trenches. Soldiers on both sides were deep in thought about loved ones left behind.  One of our wire-services described the scene: “For the men far from home, there was no end in sight to the mud, the cold, the rats, the bad food, the loneliness.. and death. Then the silence was broken. Not by gunfire but by the voice of a German soldier–singing ‘Stille Nacht, Helige Nacht’ … ‘Silent Night, Holy Night.’ As his voiced faded, French soldiers responded with a joyous ‘Noel, Noel.’ Up and down the line, soldiers on both sides raised their voices in the Christmas carols of their homelands. A few ventured out of the trenches onto the scarred earth that lay between. In minutes, the bitter enemies were, briefly, comrades, exchanging pictures of their families. They shared what little food and drink they had and more songs. Some soldiers slogged off into the forest and brought little trees to set up on the ‘no-man’s land’ between the trenches…

“The holiday peace lasted all that week–until New Year’s Day when the guns roared again…”

***

Don Jackson

“He comes in the night! / …He softly, silently comes, / While the sweet little heads on the pillows so white / Are dreaming of bugles and drums.” An anonymous writing from 1880 and featured in the December 1998 issue of Victoria magazine.

“She went to bed early, so as to let Santa Claus have a chance at the stockings, …” An excerpt from Christmas Every Day written in 1891 by W. D. Howells and featured in the December 1999 issue of Victoria.

“Then suddenly I heard the sound of bells–sharp, clear bells, coming closer all the time. No other sound had ever been so real. … Now we could hear the squeak of runners in the snow and the thud of the hooves.” An excerpt from The Night We Talked To Santa Claus written in 1965 by Lynne Lofting and featured in the December 1999 issue of Victoria.

What if you could meet with Santa Claus? The M & M candies did in a recent TV commercial. They fainted after realizing he was real, and then Santa fainted after commenting that they were real, too!

Clement C. Moore’s narrator gets a chance to see Santa at work in his home, but doesn’t get the chance for a one-on-one conversation. In this next poem, a little boy did..

The poem is called Santa’s Secret Wish by Betty Werth. It’s a modern day classic…

“On Christmas Eve, a young boy with fight in his eyes, / Looked deep in Santa’s, to Santa’s surprise. / And he said as he nestled on Santa’s broad knee, / ‘I want your secret. Tell it to me…’ / He leaned up and whispered in Santa’s good ear, / ‘How do you do it, year after year?’

“‘I want to know, as you travel about, / Giving gifts here and there, you never run out. / How is it dear Santa that in your pack of toys / You have plenty for all the world’s girls and boys? / Stays so small, never empties, to homes large and small, / From nation to nation, reaching them all?

“And Santa smiled kindly and said to the boy, / ‘Don’t ask me hard questions…don’t you want a toy?’ / But the child shook his head, and Santa could see, / That he needed the answer. … ‘Now listen to me,’ / He told the small boy with the light in his eyes, / ‘My secret will make you sadder and wise…’

“”The truth is that my sack is magic. Inside / It holds a million toys for my Christmas Eve ride. / But although I do visit each girl and each boy / I don’t always leave them a gaily wrapped toy. / Some homes are hungry, some homes are sad, / Some homes are desperate, some homes are bad. / Some homes are broken, and children there grieve. / Those homes I visit, but what should I leave?’

“‘My sleigh is filled with the happiest stuff, / But for homes where despair lives, toys aren’t enough. / So I tiptoe in, kiss each girl and boy, / And pray with them that they’ll be given the joy / Of the spirit of Christmas, the spirit that lives, / In the heart of the dear child who gets not–but gives.

“‘If only God hears me and answers my prayer, / When I visit next year, what I will find there, / Are homes filled with peace, and with giving and love, / And boys and girls gifted with light from above. / It’s a very hard task, my smart little brother, / To give toys to some, and to give prayers to others. / But the prayers are the best gifts–the best gifts, indeed, / For God has a way of meeting each need.’

“‘That’s part of the answer.. the rest, my dear youth, / Is that my sack is magic–and that is the truth. / In my sack I carry on Christmas Eve day, / More love than Santa could e’er give away.

“‘The sack never empties of love, or of joys, / ‘Cause inside it are prayers, and hopes–not just toys… / The more that I give, the fuller it seems, / Because giving is my way of fulfilling dreams.’

“‘And do you know something? You’ve got a sack, too. / It’s as magic as mine and it’s inside of you. / It never gets empty, it’s full from the start, / It’s the center of lights and of love–it’s your heart. / And if on Christmas you want to help me, / Open the sack called your heart, and share / Your joy, your friendship, your wealth–your care.’

“The light in the small boy’s eyes was glowing. / ‘Thanks for the secret; I’ve got to be going.’ / ‘Wait, little boy,’ said Santa, ‘Don’t go. / Will you share? Will you help? Will you use what you know?’ / And just for a moment the small boy stood still.. / Touched his heart with his small hand, and whispered, / ‘I will….’”

 It’s a wonderful poem by Betty Werth that was sent to me via e-mail by a listener sometime back. I hope the punctuation is correct not having seen the original.

Peace on Earth begins one home and one heart at a time…

***

Don Jackson

This is one of the most widely read editorials ever written. It appeared in the New York Sunin 1897. The letter was written by an eight-year-old girl. Her name was Virginia O’Hanlon of New York City, the daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Philip F. O’Hanlon. The writer of the editorial reply was Francis Pharcellus Church. It’s a tough question but he came up with the best answer.

“Dear Editor

“I am 8 years old.

“Some of my friends say there is no Santa Claus.

“Papa says ‘if you see it in The Sun it’s so.’

“Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

 Virginia O’Hanlon 115 West 95th Street

“Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little.

“In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias.

“There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

“Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign there is no Santa Claus.

“The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

“You tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart.

“Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

“No Santa Claus! Thank God he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.”

 Believe…

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Don Jackson 

“One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher, until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.” A few lines later O. Henry wrote, “Tomorrow would be Christmas Day and she had only one dollar and eighty-seven cents with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn’t go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always were. Only one dollar and eight-seven cents to buy a present for Jim.”

He wrote under the name O. Henry, a pseudonym for William Sydney Porter. Merriam Webster’s Encyclopedia of Literature said, “American short story writer whose tales romanticized the commonplace–in particular, the life of ordinary people in New York City. His stories expressed the effect of coincidence on character through humor–grim or ironic–and often had surprise endings…” As was the case with one of his most famous. This story was originally published in The New York Sunday Worldin 1905. There are two main characters, husband and wife James and Della Dillingham Young. In the end, she cuts her beautiful long hair for twenty dollars in order to buy her husband a platinum fob for his coveted pocket-watch. When he comes home, and they open their gifts, she realizes he sold the watch in order to buy her beautiful combs for her hair.

There is a moral to O. Henry’s tale. He writes, “The magi, as you know, were wise men–wonderfully wise men–who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days, let it be said that of all who receive gifts, these two were the wisest. Of all who receive and give gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.” O. Henry.

A story that still rings true over a hundred years later…

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Don Jackson 

It was a London, England, merchant by the name of Sir Henry Cole who is said to have produced the first commercial Christmas card. It was not well received. In fact, it triggered a storm of protest. Like many others before him, he wrote out long letters of greetings to friends at Christmas. This was the custom of the time. He hired an artist by the name of John Horsley, according to the book A Treasury Of Christmas Stories by Webb Garrison, published in 1990 by Rutledge Hill Press. The artist quoted Cole as saying, “It would save me a great deal of time, and I believe the recipients would be surprised and delighted.” So the artist set to work to create a design that Sir Henry would approve of. According to Webb Garrison this is the design he came up with. “On the card, vine-wrapped boughs formed side-by-side frames for three Christmas scenes. The center section depicted three generations of a family celebrating the holiday with glasses in hand. Each card was individually hand-colored. Sir Henry mailed about 300 to friends, and put another 300 up for sale at a shop he owned.

“But followers of the anti-liquor movement were offended by the drinking scene.

“They denounced the card as ‘deliberately conceived to foster and promote the consumption of alcohol during the holiday season.’

“Sir Henry Cole sold a mere handful of the cards.

“In 1848, a London entrepreneur named W. M. Egley tried marketing a second Christmas card similar in design to Sir Henry’s, but it, too, failed to sell.

“Then during the 1860s color reproductions of holiday paintings were reproduced on cards, and they caught on.” This excerpt from the book appeared in the December 18th, 1990 edition of the Enquirer.

As it said in another issue of the Enquirer some years back, “A dollar went a long, long way back in Christmas 1886–when a tree cost just 25 cents, cards went for 3 cents each and plums for a plum pudding sold for only 15 cents.” Christmas cards today are big business and so are e-cards. According to The American Greeting Card Association, 500 million online greetings were sent all over the world this year alone. Compared with figures from 2006, the largest e-card publisher, American Greetings, registered a increase of 23% this year over last. These figures were recently published in the Globe and Mail’s Social Studies column [Friday December 14th, 2007]. Along with the legitimate electronic greetings come others that may hide a virus or spy-ware, so let the e-card receiver beware. As it said in the newspaper column, the most prolific virus was the “I Love You” virus. People may be fooled by the simple greeting “Merry Christmas” to open something they shouldn’t. I can assure you this is a “safe” blog to read…

Lovers and Other Strangers began on CHFI in January of 1990. The initial response to the show was immediate and tremendous. Listeners began to send me letters asking for copies of the scripts I produced for each night’s show. They also sent letters asking for book information. You have to remember this was all really before personal computers and e-mail became popular. I spent hours every day sifting through the mail and sending out responses. When Christmas 1990 began to get close, I suggested to my wife that I’d like to send every listener, who mailed me, a Christmas card signed by me with a short note of thanks for his/her support of the show. So in the weeks leading up to Christmas that year we purchased almost a hundred cards and I began to sign my name. My wife helped me address them and the station helped out by mailing them for me.

Every year, more and more addresses were added to our list. My mother even offered to help print the envelopes. We spent days leading up to Christmas preparing bundles of individually signed Christmas and holiday cards.

In later years, we had special Christmas stationery prepared with a greeting from me and a few chosen lines from some of my favorite Christmas writings. Very good friends who are printers by trade helped me to fashion these heartfelt letters.

The problem was the fact that people moved and never bothered to send me a change of address. We began to get back bundles of cards and letters. With the increasing costs of postage and the number of returns, we had to stop this Christmas ritual that meant so much to me. Now you know the reason why you haven’t received a card or letter from me over a few years now.

This blog gives me the unique opportunity to begin a new Christmas card tradition, one that I hope to expand on every year starting right now. Today I wanted to take a few moments to thank you for your continued support of my radio program and this new blog. I realize that this may not be as personal as opening up a card or letter from me in your regular mail, but I hope you know that the original intent to thank my wonderful loyal listeners is still uppermost in my mind at this very special time of the year. I said in a few Christmas letters that at our Christmas table I always take a few moments to raise a toast to all those who have supported the show over the past year. Even though the cards had to stop, I still took a few moments before our family dinner to offer a “thank you” for your helping to make our Christmas a joyous, memorable occasion. You gave me reason to celebrate on many, many occasions. This year your support has given me reason to celebrate again..

“Never a Christmas morning, / Never the old year ends / But someone thinks of someone– / Old days, old times, old friends.” An excerpt from a Christmas card sent to the author one year, and featured in the 1998 edition of The Friendship Book of Francis Gay, published by D. C. Thomson and Company.

I still receive cards with heartfelt best wishes from listeners and clients who received my greetings over the years. If you have recently sent me one, I just wanted you to know that both my wife and I appreciate you remembering us on your Christmas card list. With our communications over the years, it feels like we’re hearing from special friends when we open the cards and see familiar names.

In conclusion, I wanted to leave you with this. A listener sent me this poem some years back. It was written by Helen Steiner Rice, and appeared in the book, Christmas Blessings. You should still be able to order this book. The sentiments in this poem are near and dear to my heart. They have always mirrored mine.

“I have a list of folks I know, all written in a book, / And every year at Christmas time, I go and take a look, / And that is when I realize that these names are a part, / –Not of the book they’re written in–but my very heart.

“For each name stands for someone who has crossed my path sometime, / And in that meaning they’ve become the rhythm in each rhyme. / And while it sounds fantastic for me to make this claim, / I really feel that I’m composed of each remembered name.

“And while you may not be aware of any ’special link’, / Just meeting you has shaped my life more than you can think. / For once I’ve met somebody, the years cannot erase / The memory of a pleasant word, or of a friendly face.

“So never think my Christmas cards are just a mere routine / Of names upon a Christmas list forgotten in between, / For when I send a Christmas card that is addressed to you, / It’s because you’re on that list of folks I’m so indebted to.

“For I am but a total of the many folks I’ve met / And you happen to be one of those I prefer never to forget. / And whether I have known you for many years or few, / In some way you have had a part of shaping things I do.

“And every year when Christmas comes, I realize anew / The best gift life can give is meeting folks like you. / And may the spirit of Christmas that forever endures, / Leave its richest blessing in the hearts of you and yours.” The word of Helen Steiner Rice from the compilation Christmas Blessings, sent via e-mail by a listener. I trust the punctuation and sentence structure is correct.

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