Christmas Always (poems) & Christmas Treasures (excerpt) & Day 359 CJSM-book IV

Forever Christmas

 

Search design-measured Christian life

Find pleasure-time sacred beliefs rife

 

Holy event annual before our eyes

Baby-born event, pure heart sighs

 

There inside rough stable blessed

Infant King! No worldly crest

 

Manger image glows sweet love

Father proud shines heaven above

 

Dear Savior’s birth quiet ceremony

Lovingly adored humble testimony

 

White robe, sandals, softly spoken

Promise, vow, word unbroken

 

Vessel’s life, baptism whitens

It, too, lives as spirit brightens

 

Within thy psyche search totally objective

No masquerade shadows holy perspective

 

Scrutinize every silent thought

Microscope all “reward” it bought

 

In gift-time traveled challenge true

Adventure embrace, with passion do

 

Redeemer: Truth! The Light! The Way!

Embrace sweet Grace, I humble pray

 

Sing God’s glory throughout all days

Amen! So be it! Forever Christmas!

 

Merry Christmas!

 

 

Christmas Eve Song

 

 

Pretty girls in Christmas dresses red satin

Blue-suited boy decked in shoes black patent

 

Spruce-scented tree bedazzled ornaments shine

Colored lights glow hallowed night defined

 

Bright-paper presents ’neath season-branches spread

Visions of toys create desire in sweet heads

 

Table white-linen display bounty delectable

Delicious fare all, each offering selectable

 

Family, friends gather to give the world pause

Impatiently waiting the arrival of ole Santa Claus

 

Deep midnight space caressing God’s pleasant earth

White snowflakes dance, enhance holy creation-worth

 

Miniature manger display adorned tree underneath

Proclaim season-reason for Christmas belief

 

Holiday sights, laughter sounds increase mankind’s pace

Children-eyes adoringly sparkle in Holy Spirit Grace

 

Absorb fully I this vision revisited each blessed winter

Remember thou life in Christ be at sacred holy center

 

Humble thyself as He on heaven-earth night

Celebrate Him each day in eternal delight

 

Amen!

 

Merry Christmas!

 

 

Plus:

 

 

 

 

Christmas Perfect!

 

 

 

 

The Story

 

 

Pale in its distant appearance, the winter’s stark yellow-white poor imitation of a warming summer’s sun peeked through a cold, dreary sky lending scant warmth to the Main Street visitors on this nippy Christmas Eve day’s sojourn. Only a slight wind stirred, making the thirty degree temperature at least tolerable after the previous two weeks of overcast days struggling to reach the low twenties and crisp, clear, calm, cold nights when the thermometer hovered around the zero mark. Such perfect early season weather made for great ice skating on the farm pond while intermittent snows decorated the bleak winter landscape, providing fun times sled riding in the yawning, wide valleys where minimal snowfall had drifted deeply, all the while issuing hints of exciting, impending Christmas and evoking pleasant memories and hopeful promised expectations. Nothing compared with the delights of this best of the holidays.

Events become the recognizable highlights in most lives: birthdays, weddings, holidays, anniversaries. Other adventures extraordinary to the individuals involved, the special times or places or people sometimes intertwined to become the very celebration. Secrets shared which enhance a sentimental pleasure purely in the reminiscing. That understanding is one premise to the proper conclusion which is the ultimate human pursuit: Life! Liberty! Happiness!

The old man was subconsciously cognizant of such a simple determination; on a conscious plane he accepted the endeavor as a work in progress, one which he steadfastly refused to dwell upon, but, one in which he enjoyed a special innate gift of awareness. That understanding being: special contentment is found solely in the journey through this life. Faith! Family! Freedom!

Christmas Eve had arrived and that event alone sufficed as reason enough to celebrate happiness; not that he required any excuse, every instant of his life was a perfect gift; his precious family was the pinnacle jewel in the crown. The early snows had been light and were now nearly melted with only near-negligible stubborn remnants hanging tight in secreted shadowy crevices around city buildings, and, of course, the ever-slowly melting mounds piled high on parking lots, reluctant by virtue of sheer volume to even consider receding.

In the farmland, snow naturally drifted to collect in deep deposits in the valleys and ravines, always offering sled riding adventures to those who decided to enjoy the outdoor winter fun, even when Mother Nature refused to co-operate. The “warm” day-temperature, by late December standards, did threaten a hoped for “White Christmas”. None mentioned the spring-like near-thaw, not wanting to initiate the harbinger of what could turn out to be a bad omen of: No Snow!

But, this was Christmas-time, the season for miracles. Bapa had told the children that he was confident that it would snow for Santa’s arrival; it encouraged them as his snow predictions were always accurate. He had a knack for “smelling” the white stuff, up to a day before it arrived, often, within a few hours. The old man explained it as a special sensation to his nose; he had tried in vain to pass the natural ability to his family. Alas, the phenomenon was peculiar to him; any explanation was utterly unsuccessful. No one else had the ability; even, on occasion, when he “smelled” distant portending frozen fluff on the air and asked others to sniff the wind, they failed to discern the subtle distinction that he, alone, experienced.

Now, as the family gathered in town to plan their Christmas Eve afternoon’s final foray shopping assault, Bapa announced his long awaited snow forecast.

He inhaled the cold air as his captive audience collectively crossed their frigid fingers in hopeful anticipation.

“It’ll snow by nightfall!” he pronounced to the little throng huddled on the Main Street sidewalk in front of Martin’s Drug Store.

Magically, as if on cue, just waiting for his word, Mother Nature shifted her southwest gentle stirrings to a northwest breeze. The girls pulled their coats taut and Z. Tyler donned the hood of his winter parka, pulling it snug over tightly wound blonde curls. A ghostly, silver-grey steel heavy laden shield of cloud front gathered menacingly above the western horizon, its threatening edge a billowing white foam, like a rogue wave on a placid ocean buffeting calm water as it pushed incessantly forward causing it to roil, roll and rumble on its angry quest. The storm front, still in its early approach, caused an immediate and perceptible drop in the temperature; the whipping wind stung at exposed faces, adding its own insult to injury.

Annie shivered, visibly pulling deeper into her heavy winter coat.

“It sure is getting cold,” she announced through chattering teeth.

Lauren nodded, also hunkering down for warmth like a turtle retreating into its shell.

Lexi’s blonde curls, like her brother’s, were buffeted by a stiff, cold breeze, bringing a quavering, “It sure is!” agreement with her cousins’ declarations.

“I sure wish the Ice Cream Shoppe was open, today” lamented Anna Marie, longingly, giving unsurprising hint to her thoughts as she licked her red lips.

Laughter erupted. Only Annie Rie would openly wish for ice cream on a blustery, frigid Christmas Eve day. She seemed at a loss as to why her statement brought a throng of laughter, a bewildered look of “Now what did I do?” on her innocent face. Secretly, Bapa wondered if this seven year old urchin was just having fun with her deadpan hijinks or whether she was truly unaware of her comic behavior. He had queried Nanny on the possibility.

She would only laugh and say, “That’s our Annie!” The child proved a caution; no doubt.

“No ice cream needed today, Anna!” concluded Lauren, giggling with a shiver.

“Yeah! That’s for sure,” added Lexi, a stuttering, cold quiver in her laughing words.

The infamous Ice Cream Shoppe stood shaky as a hastily constructed hodge-podge of scrounged lumber and other materials “found” by the town’s legendary ne’er-do-well, “Wild” Bill One-Pony. He was the owner-operator of the establishment. “Wild” Bill claimed ancestral American Indian descent; however, even though he answered to a native moniker, no one could rely on the accuracy of anything he ever said. One-Pony always managed to liberate a loose dollar or “earn” a fast buck; his often shady enterprises were only surpassed by his sometimes blatantly illegal endeavors; the “Wild” fit Bill, Indian ancestry, or not, perfectly.

The shack which served ice cream in the summer also housed a snow cone stand; in the fall he converted it to a Halloween establishment; at Christmas, a Santa Claus hut. February found Bill selling chocolate candy hearts and red heart-shaped cards. By Easter, chocolate bunnies and eggs decorated the “storefront” showroom bay window which was nothing more than a severely scratched and cracked piece of plexi-glass he had appropriated from someone unsuspecting when they dared turn a blind eye at a construction site. Even the lot where the business was located was not owned by “Wild” Bill; he had simply appropriated the vacant property adjacent to the bank. No one seemed to mind as there were no complaints; such was the luck of “Wild” Bill William One-Pony. His irreverent attitude somehow made him endearing. 

Bapa liked “Wild” Bill in spite of his checkered reputation and had actually done business with him on two occasions, not counting, of course, the myriad ice cream cones, snow cones, candies, cakes and other assorted goodies he and Nanny purchased for the grandkids, and themselves, over the years. He believed everyone deserved a chance; he had given Bill, several.

Once, unexpected timely rains over a normally arid summer provided six alfalfa hay cuttings; four crops was good, five, unusual, but, six happened only every twenty-five years or so. Bapa’s hay sheds, numbering four, the huge barn loft and several outbuildings were filled to capacity. No buyers could be found by late September when the final crop for the year had been cut, raked and baled. The alfalfa was fine leafed and referred to as “rabbit” feed. It provided less yield per acre but was nutrient rich and the old man had over a thousand bales to sell. He had advertised, made phone calls, all to no avail. Finally, he even considered construction of a new shed to shelter the unexpected over abundance; never look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were.

Then, on an evening trek to the snow cone shop, he happened to run into “Wild” Bill.

The situation with the excess hay came up; Bill proposed that for a dollar a bale as his share, he’d guarantee disposal of the oversupply. Bapa was skeptical; he knew of One-Pony’s dubious reputation and had been warned to steer clear of the town’s resident wheeler-dealer. But, he saw possible good in the manipulator, so he decided on the gamble, in Bill‘s favor.

Within the week, the hay bales had been picked out of the field; Bapa didn’t even have to touch them. The very same day, Bill showed up at the farm house and paid Bapa every last cent he owed him, in hard cash, no hedging. Of course, Nanny insisted One-Pony stay for supper; no one ever left her house hungry, thirsty or cold, either in the flesh or of the spirit.

The second time Bapa had dealings with “Wild” Bill One-Pony was when he received a call from Sheriff Owen Justice, his true given name, saying that Bill had been arrested and wanted the old man to pay his bail of fifty dollars. Bapa complied. It took six months for the repayment which trickled in a few bucks at a time; finally, he had paid in full. Bapa possessed good judgment when it came to people; his generous nature had helped many an errant transgressor.

The holiday house “business” was closed today, Christmas Eve, of all days, as Bill’s Santa Claus had quit the job; it was rumored around town that an altercation had occurred over the agreed upon payment. Not surprising in the least; One-Pony always had money problems and when he could not make payroll, which was often, he could, and did, easily make poor excuses. For sure, he always had a story; truth in the tale was irrelevant to Bill.  C’est la vie!

Z. Tyler had parked the old, once red, pickup on Third Street adjacent to the corner building which housed the apothecary. Bapa had ridden shotgun, as was his want of late, with the “Little Professor”, Lauren, occupying center stage of the seat. They had left the farm on the journey shortly after another of Nanny’s sumptuous noontime lunches. When the dishes were washed, towel dried and properly stored in the appropriate kitchen cabinets, the cavalcade trooped to town for some last minute shopping, at Bapa’s suggestion; the quick acquiescence of the entire group was exceeded only by their excitement. Nanny had driven the van transporting Anna Marie and Lexi; the seven year old cousins had chattered non-stop on the three mile trip.

Lauren and Annie were sisters; Zachariah Tyler was Alexandria Elizabeth’s big brother, sixteen years older than the little girl. Lexi and her cousins adored “Rye-Rye”, as they called him, and he loved each of them, dearly. Nanny had followed the red pickup and had parked behind it. They had all congregated on the sidewalk on Main Street in front of the drug store.

As his long anticipated announcement of impending snow came, excited whoops and cheers emanated from the three girls; Nanny giggled her anticipated expectancy while Z. Tyler smiled broadly. Bapa grinned at their enthusiasm; they, he knew, would have reacted as happily if he had predicted a sunny day with balmy fifty degree temperatures; such was the character of his wards. His family was his life and he deeply appreciated their exuberance. To him, such excitement for the simple things of life made all of it exceedingly worthwhile.

When the dancing, brightly-colored winter coats, hats and scarves had settled down, somewhat, Nanny suggested that the boys hit the stores on the north side of the Main Street Square while the girls, including herself, of course, peruse the shops located on the south. This, she knew, would afford her an opportunity to find a certain someone impromptu gifts without prying eyes. She laughed audibly, shaking her head, admitting his endearing “little boy” impetuous and curious nature. “He’ll never grow up,” she silently decided, happily.

Bapa immediately understood her motivation and acknowledged that he had uncovered her surreptitious attempt at a clandestine plan by giving her that conspiratorial “Got you!” wink as he overzealously clapped his gloved hands and announced in an elevated mock excitement, “Oh! Good! That’ll give us men some privacy!” Her cool gaze belied her tacit effort to smile.

Then, Nanny and Z. Tyler laughed at the old man’s shenanigans; the three girls giggled, too, although they did not know exactly why. Bapa was always saying something funny, and, since the two adults were laughing, he must have done it again. Lauren shook her head in vague understanding; the little girls were just excited to be part of the wraithlike merriment.

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Nanny, still smiling. “I’m glad to see that you agree.” It was not often she got one up on his wit, mostly because she humbly allowed him to entertain the “win”.

She gave her husband that “wife-y” look which said that she was just playing along; he smiled, confusedly, not quite sure what had just happened, also, feeling a bit dismayed.

They had been together so long that he believed each could literally read the other’s mind. Often, one would say something to which the other would laughingly admit that they were about to utter the very same exact thought. That romantic night behind the bandstand had occurred when she was twelve and he was just one year older; nearly a half century had passed since then. They had become like one identity in independent, separate entities. He loved this special woman more than his own life; she felt the same toward him; it seemed a match made in heaven.

He and Z. Tyler watched them go, four swaths of gala-colored bundled spirits hopping and skipping across the street, Nanny leading the pack. The men laughed approvingly, seeing them cross to the bedazzled City Square.

Main Street split around a three block length to border a common ground which was the town square, now jeweled with colored lights and adorned with shiny ornaments; a sixty foot Norway spruce stood proudly center stage, as gaily decorated as any home living room Christmas tree. A shallow spring-fed pond graced the grounds offering summer fishing and winter ice skating. Now, the ice was a bit thin due to recent “warm” daytime temperatures; frosty snow swirls decorated the gray surface like melted marshmallows stirred into a cup of hot chocolate.  Numerous park benches offered pleasant respite to visitors. The manicured expanse of winter-sleeping lawn held many trees of maple, oak, hickory, cedar and various evergreens, all gaily holiday festooned for the season’s celebration with myriad strings consisting of tiny white lights.

Spring would unleash upon the numerous raised flower beds, now winter-reticent and insulated under fall’s leaves, cascading colorful swaths like wild bright splotches on the palette of a practiced landscape artist. A wooden pavilion used for civic functions and pageantry stood on the lake shore reflecting subtle illuminated sensations on the opaque frozen water’s surface like a Norman Rockwell print extolling the idyllic serenity and quiet existence of small town America. A raised bronze sculpture of the town’s most celebrated World War I hero sat astride a powerful, black stallion steed, the cavalry man’s sword raised in a threatening “Charge”; even he had not been spared the intensity of the Women’s Club civic group who oversaw the decorations; a dangling string of colored lights swayed in the stiff breeze, hanging from the saber, a subtle  harbinger of fierce-some lightning energy contained within the steel.  Downtown two story and a few three story commercial shops with street level, large plate glass windows lined Main Street like sentinels silently guarding the tranquility of small-town, U.S.A..

Decorations adorned the store fronts with various Santa Claus scenes: the red suited hero in his sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer led by a shining lighted, red-nosed Rudolph while another sleigh landed on a snow covered rooftop with “the man” disappearing down a chimney, loaded toy sack in tow. The big department store displayed a huge diorama with farms, towns, forests, a river and trains running across bridges and through tunnels, the stark landscape covered in winter snow. Silent manger scenes subtly attested to the Christian meaning of Christmas. The town street lamps had come on due to the dark overcast conditions resultant of the impending storm. Light posts held holiday decorations of candles, Santa Claus, snowflakes, trees, packages, all lit with bright bulbs. The town square and City Park were garnished with colored lights and shiny ornaments. A delightful holiday festive panorama reigned supreme.

The Emporium was a two story frame structure which sold hardware, tools, paint, farm supplies, horse tack, animal feed, straw and hay in bales; the pleasant smell of leather, grain and alfalfa evoked memories of a pleasing nostalgic journey. Next to it stood Neighborhood IGA, the town’s grocery store. Anna Marie’s closed sweetshop leaned precariously on the vacant lot next to the Prairie Bank, its ramshackle roof depending on the depository’s stalwart brick façade to hold it up. Gilroy’s Fine Jewelry occupied the corner of the next block across a side street. Martin’s Drugs, where they had assembled, was on the corner. The community elementary school with a large playground and baseball field occupied the rest of the block. The little white country church was a half mile out of town on the road that led to Bapa and Nanny’s farm. That rounded out the small village’s commercial area on the north side of Main Street.

The girls’ south side contained Sally’s Sew ’n Sew, a fabric shop, Salger’s Shoe store, Miss Mary Belle’s Hat Shoppe sporting a large plate glass display window offering five of the latest fashions, a Ben Franklin Five and Dime, the Blue Cheese Café, actually, a glorified hamburger joint and, finally, Kay’s Fashions, a clothier carrying men’s, children’s and, mostly, women’s clothing of the very latest finery. A one story, smallish building housed a combination police station and fire house across from the school. Their town was proud of its security force, a lone cop who served as policeman, volunteer fire chief and elected mayor; it was equally delighted with its single shiny, bright red fire engine which was pressed into service to lead the annual homecoming parade held over the Fourth of July celebration. Americana personified!

A gleaming white picket fence bordered the side walk at the property adjacent to the apothecary. Behind the well-maintained enclosure stood a two story house with a large front porch, the structure as pristine in its white edifice as was the street barrier. Winter-bare large maple trees stood on either side of the front walkway and a white sign emblazoned with black lettering suspended on a post, the placard swaying in the fresh northwest breeze, announcing the owner of the picture postcard home: H. Pilgrim, M.D.

Dr. Pilgrim also practiced medicine for animals as he wore the hat of local veterinarian. Behind the house was a large red barn with a lean-to on either side and dry lots where he kept treated livestock while they recuperated. Acreage contiguous to the estate was agricultural and was farmed by Bapa’s nephew who had learned the trade from his uncle, the young man’s surrogate father. Bapa had once been the tenant, but had relinquished his claim to the farming of the land, with the good doctor’s blessing, to help the ambitious young man get started.

Homer Pilgrim was an immigrant from Austria; it was rumored that he was of royal blood but the doctor played down any attempt by locals to verify the tale. He was jovial of manner and standing proud at five and a half feet tall, being equally wide of girth. Tight, curly white locks fringed his shiny pate while huge jowls glowed red as tiny glasses perched on a minute nose before clear, sparkling, blue eyes. He was avuncular of character and kindly in demeanor.

His nurse, wife-Shirley of forty-plus years, was as corpulent of the physical as she was pleasant of personality. She practiced excellent gardening and patients often showed up early for appointments in the summertime just to sit on the front porch swing to enjoy the manicured grounds and fragrant flower beds. She sported a light blue twin globe “Gone-with-the-Wind” electrified lamp in the front living room window; it strongly resembled the one Nanny had and Mrs. Pilgrim was quick to proudly confess that she had copied her friend’s good taste in

decorations. The couple had no children, but had come to adopt the town as family, including the surrounding farm people; their affection was rewarded as they were warmly loved in return.

Bapa and Nanny were good friends with the Pilgrims. The doctor held his respect, and, that esteem was not something the old man bestowed haphazardly. The physician offered a great deal of charity work to this farming community and when he did charge for services rendered, he made his billing equal to what he felt the patient could afford to pay. Often, he took meat, wild game, poultry, porkers, beef products, eggs, produce, hay, grain and other farm commodities in payment. Sometimes, he waited a long time to collect remuneration; once in a while he was never paid. Not once had Bapa heard the kindly doctor complain or speak derogatorily of anyone. Dr. Pilgrim had even befriended “Wild” Bill One-Pony.

The couple’s appearance had not been lost on the grandchildren. They all dearly loved the kind, generous medical practitioners.

Annie Rie had summed up Homer and Shirley Pilgrims’ impression on the girls when she nicknamed them: Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus! At Christmas, they dressed in appropriate costume and played the part, appearing at the Emporium to take children’s Christmas wishes, and, even, occasionally, at Wild Bill One-Pony’s Ice Cream Christmas Shoppe.

On the east, Main Street ended at a “T”-intersection bordered by a black wrought iron fence and ornate gate at the entrance to the city park. Just inside stood a five sided, covered bandstand that was the center of attraction each Tuesday evening from May through September. Bapa smiled at the sight of the pentagon-shaped building as he recalled meeting Nanny there, in their youth, on those warm evenings as the band serenaded. The very first time he had kissed her was as they stood holding hands in the deep shadows behind that wooden structure under an alabaster, pale full moon; he always believed that was the moment he fell in love with her, forever. That park held a special place in his heart; each anniversary he would tease her about the incident. She reveled in his telling of the most important event in her early days.

She had been a beauty even then, at that tender age of twelve; he was just one year her senior. Her looks were not lost on him, either. Auburn hair blazed a golden-reddish halo in sunshine, even in subdued moon-glow, or under scant starlight. Large, warm brown eyes complimented her natural-tan complexion. A pleasing personality caused everyone to love her. She was highly intelligent, quick of wit and had a tremendous sense of humor. For a score of years he had called her a saint; for the last twenty he dubbed her an angel. Over many anniversaries he had confided that she deserved much better, to which she always replied, “I have the best!” He wasn’t so sure about that. Funny thing, he mused, absently picturing the three girl grandchildren and cognizant of Z. Tyler‘s presence, how one innocent little kiss could result in such glory. Amazing!

 

 

 

Plus:

 

 

 

Day 359

 

 

Salt-water taffy from Coo’s Bay, Oregon

 

 

Oregon owns this heart of mine! She also offers some enticing seductions.

Of her myriad charms, a simple one anybody can understand is :salt-water taffy.

This “Cookie Jar Sweet Memory” credits Coos Bay but Depo Bay is the one I recall.

Coos Bay sported Horsehead Beach where myriad sea-shells could be found.

Whichever, we made a stop at the salt water taffy store to load up on the sweetness. Every vacation to our beloved Oregon-coast brought us to the taffy-shop and even after we relocated to the northwest, we took advantage of the delightful candy treats at every opportunity.

Go out and buy some salt-water taffy---and…Enjoy!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Yum1 Yum!” Memories!