Beacon Lights of Literature, Book Seven

I pulled an old book off the shelf last week, one I hadn't looked at in a long while. But to me this
isn't just any old book. It may be my favorite book ever. It's green and dog-eared.....Beacon Lights
of Literature, Book Seven, compiled by Rudolph W. Chamberlain. I remember when I was about
seven or eight years old, my mother brought home a cardboard box full of discarded books. I have
no memory or idea of where she got them. I also have no memory of any of the other books, only
this one. It contains 96 literary selections. "A year's good reading" the intro states. I am aware,
from some searching on the internet, that Beacon Lights came in several publications - as evidenced
by the fact that mine is Book Seven. It was intended to be used as a school book, as there's a
teacher's guide at the front. It was recommended by the National Council of Teachers of
English. I didn't notice any of that when I was seven or eight. But for some reason I fell in love
with this book and at the risk of sounding a little silly, this book may have somewhat formed my
life and the interests I've enjoyed and pursued.

I realized about that time in my life that I really loved to read and I spent a lot of time honing this
skill with this very book. At first I'm sure I stumbled through a lot of it, but over time, I learned much of the book by heart by reading and re-reading the various essays.

I immediately loved "Paul Revere's Ride" and "The Courtship of Miles Standish", both by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Another favorite was "Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle" by Oliver Wendell Holmes. This book brought my first introduction to Charles Dickens in "Christmas With The Cratchits" from "A Christmas Carol". Has anyone ever heard of the non-sensical poem, "Godfrey
Gordon Gustavus Gore" by William Brighty Rands? "Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore -- no doubt
you have heard his name before -- was a boy who never would shut the door! The wind might
whistle, the wind might roar, and teeth be aching and throats be sore. But still he never wold shut
the door!"
There are so many selections in this book that I love, but I think that my very favorite would be
"A Song of Sherwood" by poet Alfred Noyes. I would read it and re-read it throughout my childhood. It always brought me a magical feeling and a sense of delightful mystery. It still does to this day.....
"Sherwood in the twilight, is Robin Hood awake? Grey and ghostly shadows are gliding through the
break; Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the morn, dreaming of a shadowy man that winds
a shadowy horn.
Robin! Robin! Robin! All his merry thieves - answer as the bugle note shivers through the leaves;
Calling as he used to call, faint and far away. In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day."

Now I will reveal myself a bit further and tell you that I was not satisfied to just read the poetry and
stories in this book. Nothing would do but that I would read them aloud - at the top of my lungs
usually. I would stand in my front yard - on top of an old metal lawn chair and orate from this
book! I believe that my mother thought this was a bit strange, but that didn't stop me. I would read
to the old "haunted" house across the street as if a host of spirits were listening! Maybe they were,
especially when I read to them about Robin Hood!

This past weekend when our house was delightfully full of wonderful young men from the up-and-
coming musical group 'High South', my son spied this book on my desk and brought it into the room
where we all were. "Beacon Lights of Literature," he said. "I remember this." And he began reciting
the lines of "A Song of Sherwood". I guess I had read it to him too. (smile) A proud moment.

I know many people love reading from their electronic devices and that's great. But for me, I have
to be able to hold it, feel it, smell it and pull it from the shelf from time to time. I love being able
to recall the finding of this book and the 'falling in love' with it. Can anyone relate? I hope so.

I'll close with this verse from "Paul Revere's Ride".....
"So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,
A cry of defiance and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight-message of Paul Revere."

These words speak to us still.

Thanks, my friends, for indulging me - yet again.
I will not loan my Beacon Lights but I will pull it from the shelf and enjoy it with you - on the
porch! But let's wait till the monsoons stop, ok with you?
                                                                        ****
Postscript:
Thank you, Josh, Phoenix, Kevin, Mike and my Jamey of High South for sharing the wonderful
weekend with us! We're so proud of you all!

"A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Memories"

I won't be serving a meal on my dining room table anytime soon. I'm in the zone. I'm determined to get this job done. I have always told people that I am the keeper of 10,000 pictures. I believe I may have underestimated. And though I am the "keeper", that doesn't mean I've been terribly organized
 at the storage or preservation of said pictures. Simply put, they're everywhere. I have pictures in small boxes, large boxes, plastic tubs, photo albums, drawers, trunks, closets. Do I have to embarrass myself further or do you get the "picture"? For the past couple of years I've been attacking the trove
little by little, trying to at least determine just what I do have. I thought I had made good progress
until a few weeks ago when I found four (count 'em - four) more large boxes of pictures in storage.

Obviously, my major goal is to no longer be that keeper. I want to look at the pictures, oooooh and
ahhhhhhh and then put them in one of an organized grouping of stacks in preparation for mailing the
pictures to siblings, my son, cousins, nieces, nephews, friends, etc. Simply put, I want the pictures to go away. I have enjoyed them. I have housed them. Time now to go. It's not that the pictures don't mean anything to me. On the contrary, pictures - as all of you know - are priceless and precious. I cherish them. But they have to go.

Oh, they're not all going. Certainly I'll keep some, probably too many. If there are doubles, in many
cases I'll keep one and send off the other. Of course - there are no doubles of the very old prints. So
then I have to decide if I, in fact, can bring myself to share them. PRAY FOR ME!!!!! :)

I have pictures that belonged to my grandmother, my great-grandmother, my parents, my siblings,
my son, his friends, my friends, my husband........I have pictures I cannot begin to identify. Way too many of those. And sometimes, in such an instance, I force myself to just let them go.

I love the old pictures. I can stare at them for the longest time. I love history, particularly family
history and each picture tells another story - usually one I've never actually heard. So I have to
make it up as I study the picture. Sometimes they include old family homes of people I never
actually knew. My ancestors are so young in those pictures and they're holding babies that grew
up and lived and died. And the fashions of the women are amazing! I have pictures of my grand-
mother and grandfather in Forest Park, St. Louis - I believe taken before they even married. Grandma
looks like a fashion model with her wonderfully stylish clothing of that era! It makes me appreciate them both in a way I was never able to when they were still with me.

And some of the old pictures include family pets. I'll never know their names, but you can tell that
they were loved. If you know me, you know that these pictures particularly speak to my heart. They too lived and died and were mourned and missed by the family who loved them.

I actually have two funeral pictures of family members as they lay in state - both taken professionally at the old Welge Funeral Chapel. This is a custom that I don't believe takes place anymore. One is of my great-grandmother and the other of my aunt who was murdered when she was only 17 years of age. I know the idea of having these pictures sounds gruesome, but somehow when I look at these pictures, I don't feel that way. Again, it allows me a glimpse into events and people I did not actually experience but who I feel I knew.

And oh, the baby pictures! I have to admit that when sending manila after manila to my son for his
own keeping or pitching, I cannot part with the baby pictures. I can send him all sorts of pictures of
his many activities - but not the baby pictures. They will always be with me. And each time I look
at the multitude of them I am reminded of a new, sweet memory. Precious and Priceless.

If you are one of those people who specializes in scientifically preserving pictures, don't call me
to give me advice, please. That is not and never will be my modus operandi. Apparently, in my
seeming ignorance, I've done allright - because they're all still here with me. And also if you are
someone who is passionate about "cropping" - I beg you - don't tell me about it. Not only do I
not care to attempt that feat, the thought of it causes me to be short of breath.

So, in the coming days and weeks you may be receiving a manila envelope from me - or perhaps
in some cases - an actual package, containing pictures that I have decided you should have. All you
have to do is let me know they have arrived. Thank me politely and then - if you don't want the
pictures inside those packages, YOU throw them away and DON'T EVER TELL ME!

As we grow in years we become aware that "things" do not really matter as much as we may have
once thought they did. But I believe pictures do not fall within that category. In one of the rooms
in my house I have what some may call an unusual grouping of small framed pictures - all of me
as a small child with my family members who are now all gone. Someone who saw them once asked me why I had this grouping of pictures in such a prominent place. I responded that these pictures
remind me of who I was. I KNOW who I AM. But I often need to be reminded of who I was. A small
thing, I guess. But precious and priceless.

Friends, I've been on the porch a lot this week - at all hours - enjoying the wonderful fresh air! I
enjoy Winter. I really do. I'm possibly one of the very few people who actually does enjoy Winter. But this respite has been amazing! So enjoy these next couple of days. I know I will be!

Maya Angelou's Legacy To Us All

Most of us have favorite writers who have authored the types of books we most like to read. Whether
we prefer historical novels, mysteries, romance novels, how-to books, whatever!! And much of the
time our preferences are multiple. We like to read various kinds of books by various authors. Many years ago, and I don't remember exactly when or how, I became aware of Maya Angelou. And then I became a little obsessed about her, reading all of her books that I could get my hands on. In her
lifetime, she wrote autobiographical books, much poetry and books of essays. The first one I read was "I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings", written in 1969. If you haven't read it, I encourage you to do so. Absolutely a life changing read, chronicling the woman's early and very difficult life. Opened my eyes in ways I can't even describe.

Maya Angelou was born Marguerite Annie Johnson in 1928 in St. Louis. She is called an American poet, memoirist and civil rights activist. In her lifetime she published seven autobiographies, three books of essays, several books of poetry and was credited with a list of plays, movies, and television shows. Many may remember her for her 1977 role in the made for TV movie, "Roots". She was a very close friend of Oprah Winfrey and Winfrey aired many of her shows with Ms. Angelou as her
guest.

After receiving acclaim for Caged Bird, Angelou began to publicly address her personal life and was
respected for her role as a spokesperson for black people and all women. Through her many gifts, Maya Angelou touched people's lives in remarkable ways. She touched people of all colors and
backgrounds. To say that she was inspiring seems very inadequate. But through her work, her passion and her ability to speak to one's heart, she certainly has inspired my life.

On January 20, 1993 at the inauguration of President William Jefferson Clinton, Maya Angelou
read a poem, "On The Pulse of Morning", written specifically for the event.

In the early fall of 2007 I had read in the newspaper that Ms. Angelou would be speaking at
SIU-Carbondale. When I read the ad, her engagement was just a few days away. I was very excited
and was trying to decide if I would be able to attend. That morning my old friend, Sue Reiman, came
bounding through my office door and said simply, "Ya' wanna go?" I knew immediately what she
was referring to and shouted, "Yes! I do!" We went together. On a cold, dark, rainy evening
Sue and I ill-advisedly took off down Route 3, on our way to Carbondale. Sue knew the campus really well and drove us right to the appointed location. The crowd was very large and we waited in
line for at least two hours before we were admitted into the auditorium. The standing was very
difficult for Sue, as she was not well, but we did it and we did it happily. Imagine how surprised we
were when Ms. Angelou was finally ushered into the room and on to the stage by Chester native and
then SIU student Nate Brown! Maya Angelou was a tall woman, with broad shoulders and a smile that could light a room! Her presence in the room immediately changed the very atmosphere. During
nearly two hours she made us cry. She made us laugh. Men and women. Young and old. Her words and the meaning behind them were deep and heart changing. I can only say that her unique delivery was so large and powerful, electrifying the large auditorium.

I have always been so grateful for my Maya Angelou experience - and for the fact that Sue and I were able to share it. We laughed that night like two young girls. And our lives were forever altered for
having been in that auditorium that evening. Sue's forever, though, was brief. A little over a month after that night, Sue lost her battle with cancer.

Maya Angelou died May 28, 2014 at the age of 86. But her work and her inspiration go on through the work she left behind. A huge legacy for us all. I could write so much in today's column about
Ms. Angelou's writings, her wonderful quotes, her experiences. But that would be wrong. I hope
you will decide to experience her on your own, if you have not already. I encourage you to make
the effort to pick up one of her books and read it. I hope you find her life and her writings as
inspirational as I have.

Not today, but earlier this week I actually had coffee on the porch. It felt marvelous!

For Auld Lang Syne

Now that Christmas has come and gone for another year, everyone we meet tells us, "Happy New
Year!" We're ending another year that has been filled with much joy and happiness or much sadness
and grief. Truth be known, for each of us 2016 has probably been a combination of all of those emotions.  Many years ago I read a passage from a book by artist and writer Kahlil Gibran. In this
particular writing he talked about the Tears and Laughter that fill our lives. And it is so. In this
writing, Gibran stated, "I would not exchange the laughter of my heart for the fortunes of the
multitudes; nor would I be content with converting my tears, invited by my agonized self, into
calm. It is my fervent hope that my whole life on this earth will ever be tears and laughter." And
certainly we know that regardless of who we are, where we live, what we do - tears and laughter
will always be a  part of our lives, a part of every year of our lives. But still we look backward
upon the year ending and we feel nostalgic. And we look forward with hope and expectancy, even
though we know that this new year will most certainly include both tears and laughter.

As we approach the end of any year and look toward the next, I believe it is in our nature to get a little nostalgic or perhaps introspective. We may reminisce about what has been, perhaps what
could have or should have been - and then what might be in the coming year.

As a little girl my sister and I loved New Year's Eve. Though our parents usually went out "on
the town" on that night, we knew that at home or at Grandma's, we could stay up very late and
at midnight when the strains of "Auld Lang Syne" came on the radio or television, we would be
allowed to go outside in our nighties and bang on kitchen pans with large spoons,  making all
kinds of racket that at any other time would not have been acceptable. Then the next day we would
delight in the tchotchkes that our parents had brought home to us. There would be cardboard
new year's hats, noise makers, horns, paper necklaces and confetti! We were enchanted by these
meaningless items. Fast forward a few years. I remember that when my mother would hear the
traditional new year's song, "Auld Lang Syne", she would always shed a few tears. I didn't under-
stand and she seemed at a loss to find a way to explain her emotions to me. I no longer need an
explanation, as I now react the same way when I hear the song. And for goodness sake, I can't
really explain why either! Regardless of the time of year, it moves me.

The song, though familiar to literally everyone over the age of ten, has words that always leave
us confused. What do those words really mean? And depending on who is singing, WHAT ARE THOSE WORDS???? Personally, being a Rod Stewart fan, I think his rendition is my absolute
favorite and if you haven't heard him sing it, I encourage you to pull it up online and listen. His
delivery, as far as I'm concerned, adds even more depth to the meaning.

But let's look at some history of this song, shall we? A little research tells us that in 1788 Robert Burns sent the song to the Scots Musical Museum in Scotland, indicating that it was an ancient song, but that he'd been the first to record in on paper. The phrase 'auld lang syne' roughly translates to 'for old times' sake' and the song is about preserving old friendships and looking back over the events of the year. Ok, that's not so tough, right?

Most of us know the first verse and the chorus, but it usually goes downhill from there. The original words, with their Scottish flair and brogue, leave us totally confused, with words like pint stoup and braes and gowans, etc.............But still, I think by even muddling through it, we can figure out the
true meaning of the song, or at least the feelings behind them.
                                                                          **
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne.

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,
We'll take a cup o'kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp and surely I'll be mine!
And we'll take a cup o'kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

Chorus:

We two hae run about the braes and pu'd the gowans fine.
But we've wandered mony a weary fit sin' auld lang syne.

We twa have paidled i' the burn, frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid have roared sin' auld lang syne.

Chorus:

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere, and gie's a hand o'thine!
And we'll tak a right quid-willie waught - for auld lang syne!
                                                                            **
Wow. Well, we tried. Suffice to say, I hope that it's about friendship and friendship lost.
Perhaps about love and faithfulness to one another and belonging to something larger, a fellowship. About all kinds of loss, but finding each other once again. I think it refers to the fact that we're in this together and perhaps we can try to be a little kinder.  Regardless, wherever you are at midnight on New Year's Eve, if you hear the strains of "Auld Lang Syne", I hope you'll allow yourself a moment of nostalgia for what has been and a moment of hope for what may come. If you've suffered loss this year, I hope you find peace and consolation as you look to the new year.

I want to thank you all for taking this journey with me. I hope you have found on these pages, at
least sometimes, something that resinates with you or that interests you. I'm wishing each of you
a healthy, happy and prosperous 2017. I'll be back in January. Let's take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

"A Christmas Memory"

Well, it's been a few weeks since I've managed to get back to this page. I'm sorry - because I've
missed it, missed talking with you. My only excuse is that the season has caused time to fly faster than usual. I'm planning to be back more regularly after Christmas.

Today I want to share with you, a story that I wrote some time ago, a true story of a little girl
at Christmas. I know it's a true story because I was that little girl.

                                                                    ***
I remember a Christmas when I was just a little girl, about seven years old, I think. Santa was
still very important to me and I had made sure that he knew just exactly what I wanted that year. At that time a very popular line of dolls - the Ginger Doll - had caught my eye, and I had studied and
studied the entire variety, which was on display that Christmas season at one of our local dime stores.
The Ginger Doll line included a variety of choices, all with different hair colors and different outfits. The one I wanted had auburn hair and she wore a sort of Scottish tartan outfit, two piece and plaid, with a little green Tam on her head. I loved that doll and every time Mother and I went to this store, I
would wander to the particular area where the dolls were displayed, just to look at the doll and hope
she would be mine on Christmas. Although my sister, Charmaine, and I were never sure of what
we would be able to get from Santa, I was as sure as I could afford to be that this doll would be mine
on Christmas day.

Sometime in the wee hours between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, I crept from my bed without waking Charmaine who was in the next bed sleeping. I went to the Christmas tree
in the living room. Immediately I could see the Ginger Doll under the tree, along with a doll
bed I'd also wanted. But in the moonlight streaming in through the window, my excitement flew to
despair. I could see it was not the doll I had wanted, but another - different hair color, different clothing.

I didn't wake anyone at that hour, but I remember lying down by the tree and quietly crying myself
to sleep over my disappointment. Mother found me there the next morning, sleeping, very cold and
very downhearted.

As I awoke and began telling her my sad story, I looked again at the Ginger Doll. The early
morning light allowed me to see more clearly and I was amazed to see that it was, indeed, the doll of my dreams! I was ecstatic but even at that young age, I remember feeling a bit foolish at my quickness to be disappointed.

In the years that have followed that early and memorable Christmas of mine, I have seen and
shared many times of disappointment and despair. Many times it has seemed that joy and gladness
would not follow. But just like that Christmas morning so many years ago, I have always been
surprised at my own foolishness - at my own readiness to be too soon disappointed. Human
nature, I suppose, but each time a teachable moment. I believe in my heart what I learned that
long ago Christmas. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." (Psalm 30:5)

                                                                    ***

I don't know about you, but it seems to me that this week - just before Christmas - there's a feeling of slowing down, taking a moment and a deep breath. I hope you're able to take that moment to access and calm down, to enjoy the anticipation and hope that is Advent. The waiting for Christmas.

May your every Christmas dream come true.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's just a special day. It's not a religious holiday, like Christmas or Easter. And yet we certainly
remember today to be thankful for all that we have. For family and friends. For health. Good fortune. All of that and more. Probably we are always thankful for these things. But today, we stop to take
extra time to be grateful, to thank our God if we are believers. We bow our heads - or lift our heads, depending on what is our custom. And we say thank you. Thank you for all of it. And thank you for
seeing us through the hard times. We ask for God's protection and for His favor in the days to come.

I'm hoping at this time on Thanksgiving evening, that you're easing down, taking time to relax and to
take stock of the day. Some have worked very hard to make it a special time for family and
friends. Others of us (me, this year) have had a very relaxing day. If you've been well fed and cared
for today, please remember to find a way to thank your cook. She/he is exhausted. Trust me.

And as things are quieting down, let's just take a few minutes to utter some extra words of
thanks. I'm going to wager that you've already said thank you for the wonderful food you've been so
fortunate to consume. And probably you've said thank you to God for your precious family and
friends. I know I have. Let's remember to be grateful for our men and women in service to our
country and to our first responders who serve us closer to home, daily. And just a sidebar, this is one area where social media is so valuable. By mid morning today I'd been in touch with loved ones from across this great country and even from across the world. It was a wonderful, warm and special feeling. In an era when social media can be so dark, this start to my day was a blessing.

I'm also so thankful for tradition. I touched a little last week about the traditions that we, as women,
have inherited from our mothers - such as the ways that we cook and bake. But more than that, we
have all taken on the traditions of all of our ancestors, in celebrating this wonderful holiday. Think
back, if you will, on the memories of Thanksgivings of your past, when we were children. When
mothers cooked and cleaned, as they do now. And when families gathered together, as they do now.
Remember the days we spent with our grandparents, our aunts, uncles and cousins. As I've done
some of that remembering today, it's caused me to "smile out loud" if you know what I mean. I have
some wonderful memories of being with Grandma and Grandpa Hasemeyer and other extended family.

I specifically remember one Thanksgiving as a child when my little family was hosting the day at
our tiny home. I remember how the house smelled with everything cooking and baking and how
excited my sister and I were to know that everyone was coming to our house. Somehow, as it turned out, there was room for everyone. By early afternoon the snow began to fall, unexpectedly. Obviously
technology was not what it is now. :) The snow fell and fell and our house full of people went from
excitement and wonder to some apprehension. How would everyone get home? Would they even
be able to get out of the driveway and on to the main road? But you know what? No one left
early. Everyone stayed all day and into the evening. Though I could not have explained it this
way at that time, in memory I know that on that day I felt somehow insulated and protected. As that blanket of snow fell and drifted all around our little world, I felt safe and warm and loved. It's a feeling that I still remember and a memory that I cherish after all these decades.

My hope for you on this Thanksgiving night, is that your day has caused you to feel safe and warm
and loved. And if you're celebrating tomorrow or Sunday or even next week, it makes no difference.
May you know that wonderful feeling. Each year is different. Each celebration and holiday are
different. Life enters in, with all kinds of problems and issues, but it's the feelings, the memories we hold in our hearts that last.

And now the craziness begins. As Thanksgiving ends, the Christmas season has officially begun. It's going to be a bumpy ride. It always is. Hold on tight and remember to be thankful.

"Christmas Memories...A Little Early"

I haven't posted here since Nov. 9. Sorry. Life has been chaotic and a little crazy. I guess at my age
that can be a good thing. :) I guess it means I'm still putting along. I'm sure you can all relate. Time flies and days are busy. Let's be thankful we are busy and that to some extent, we can still manage "crazy". Right?

I know that Thanksgiving is next week - less than a week away. Today as I was making my way through this and that around town - I could actually feel the electricity that accompanies this time of year. People are talking about the size of turkeys they have ordered or that they're about to order. Almost everyone asks one another, "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" "Where are you going?" "Are you cooking?", etc., etc. It's a good excitement and it's just the beginning. For the next several weeks, it will be like that wherever we go. Bustling, hurrying, busy, busy, busy. Electric. During these weeks, let's try to also remember that not everyone is going to be bustling. Not everyone is going to be sharing the excitement and anticipation. Some people are alone. Others are not well. Many are
worried and apprehensive - for many reasons. Whether it's a phone call, a 'thinking of you' card, a
visit with a pot of soup........ anything that says 'I care'. I am going to make that a concerted effort.
Will you do it with me? I hope so. I need your encouragement as much as you may need mine. Thanks.

Here at home, things are bustling. Not by requirement but by design. We love to decorate for
Christmas. I say "we". I hope I'm right. :) The day after Halloween, all those fun decorations come down. I mean immediately. Nothing drives me crazier than to see Halloween decorations after Halloween! Just a personal pet peeve. And immediately after that, the Christmas TUBS begin coming
in to the house. Approximately 45 tubs. I know. I know. Bob and I are eccentric Christmas decorators. By that, I mean he carries it all in to the house from storage and I decide where and how it goes up.
I vacillate between tradition - such as this tree ALWAYS goes here - to trying to do things a little differently each year. Some years it's murder! This year it's gone pretty easily. We put up lots of trees - all over The house - and then there are the mantels, countertops, on and on. I absolutely love it. The reason for getting it up early is that we can then sit back and actually enjoy it. We don't turn on the lights until after Thanksgiving. But if I wait until after Thanksgiving to begin, we don't get to enjoy it.
I know not everyone enjoys the profusion of Christmas everywhere, but we do. It's a good thing Bob
and I agree on this. :)

Remember that old movie, "I Remember Mama"? Well, it's a sure thing that everyone reading this
does remember mama. I mean - we women always fix the stuffing the way mama did. We make
pie crust the way mama did. The older we get the more we tend to do things the way mama did it. Am I right?  As a child, our home was always a bit chaotic - for lots of reasons - and we didn't have
a lot. But my mother always made decorating for Christmas a big deal. Certainly we only had one
tree and it was a real tree. (Today, my trees are artificial, however.) Mother let my sister and me
put the decorations on the tree and we loved it. When we were finished, Mother handled the rest.
She used tinsel. Remember tinsel? Mother would begin hanging the tinsel on the tree. She did it all
day long and all night long, as she'd take a break from cooking or as she'd walk through the living
room, or just before bedtime and then early in the morning before we woke up. Any extra moment she had, she'd be hanging more tinsel! She'd still be adding tinsel to that tree until Christmas! And it was perfect, put on one piece at a time. It was beautiful. A  wonderful memory for me.

But before the tree, came the yule log. Before daddy would get the tree, Mother would get out the
yule log that she kept year to year. It had three red candles and it would sit on top of the television. We never lit the candles because she used them year after year. But when Charmaine and I got home
from school and saw that yule log on the TV, we knew the tree was coming soon and so was Christmas. Memories. I thank God for them.

I think we all hope we have somehow instilled fond memories in the hearts of our own children, memories that they will carry with them through their lives. Several years ago when Jamey came
home for Christmas, he immediately noticed that I had a different tree topper on the traditional
tree. He said that he remembered the angel that had always been on our Christmas trees when he
was growing up. Touchdown!!! I do still have that angel. Of course. If you know me, you know
that I still have that angel.

Well, tonight I've spoken more about Christmas than I have Thanksgiving and we haven't had either one yet. It's not that I'm overlooking Thanksgiving. It's just that I'm already in the throws of Christmas. Bear with me, please.

More importantly - I guess if I'm sending a message tonight, it's just this.  Whatever your traditions, whatever your holiday preferences or family practices, just remember to "soak it up", enjoy it, relish
it. Cherish it. Treasure it. It's fleeting. And I'm not just talking about Thanksgiving and Christmas.
You get the message.

By the way, my porch is screened in. Albert and I absolutely love it.