Ok, gang. In response to Jim Swimming's suggestion and after having checked with
Kelly, I'm posting a free style poem I wrote a few years back about Christmas in
Muncie, circa 1950. This was published in The Star Press, Dec 15, 1997 as one of their
Holiday Sharing items. I hope you enjoy it and I'd be interested in knowing how many
of you recognize the place this is about. Maybe you'd better not write the list
though. (BTW, sorry about the blank - my computer (lol) had a fit.)
"Santa's coming! Quick!
Clean up your plates!"
We tumble noisily from our chairs,
mouths still full.
Six little feet run pell-mell for the closet.
Bundled up in so many layers
we can hardly move.
Mom going over us again and again -
tightening, straightening, snapping
the way only a mother could do.
Outside, our breath, so shocked by the cold
that it hestitates
in front of our faces
before floating off to a land where
ice crystals and ice fairies live.
Snow that looks like Santa's beard
all soft and warm,
amazes us with it's crunch-crunching
and we dash raucously to the car
warming and waiting at the curb.
Horns honking, lights flashing
Cheerful shouts of "Merry Christmas!"
across shimmering streets full of
wild, dancing reflections of Christmas lights
interrupted only by dashing shoppers
Slush as deep as our booted ankles,
becomes sibling weaponry as we
run towards our annual destination -
dragging cumbersome adults
as though they are the children.
Salvation Army quartet plays tinny caroles
Dad tosses a bill into the kettle.
(Is it to make them stop?)
The lady with the long dark cape and bonnet
smiles. Clank! Clanka Clank!
At last! Wet, steaming, heated sidewalk
crowded with people holding little hands!
At last! We are freed and push our way to the front
to press our little faces to glass sprayed
round the edges with fake snow.
Lovely ballerina dolls pirouette and bow
to marching wooden soldiers while
a tea party for mice takes place
in a tiny candy house all decorated
for Santa's arrival.
A train, laden with wee gay packages
passes before our tiny faces - puffing
real smoke from it's chimney.
How curious!
It heads toward snowy 'mountains' to our left.
We push and shove to follow its progress
and gaze upon a wondrous sight!
Elves dressed in red and green,
hammering and sawing and painting
on ballerina dolls and soldiers and such.
And Santa! feet propped upon his desk,
his list in hand. He checks it twice as
real smoke rises in puffs from his pipe.
His great round belly rises and falls with laughter.
How curious!
Mrs. Claus jerkily crosses the workshop
with a plateful of Christmas cookies for hungy elves
and stops to feed a carrot to Rudolph!
He nods and paws the air with his hoof...
anxious to be on his way.
We no longer feel the crystal cold or hear the
Clank Clanka Clank, or notice the dancing lights.
We are lost in this mechanical fantasy
savoring every tiny, magical detail in the window.
Nothing is lost on us.
Six little feet all lined up;
three knitted hats on little heads
forming stair steps, mittened hands
gripping the icy window's edge.
Three little mouths forming oohs! and aahs!
The smell of taffy and oranges wafts
past our noses and Christmas lights twinkle, vying
for our attention. But suddenly
nothing seems so important as going home
and rushing into our beds!
by Shirley Baston Fred
unicorn(a)ezworks.net
----- Original Message -----
From: Jim R
To: INDELAWA-L(a)rootsweb.com
Sent: Wednesday, December 13, 2000 10:07 AM
Subject: [INDELAWA-L] Best Christmas topic
Ok Gang it "Tis the Season to be Happy"
how about someone starting off with describing some of the "best Christmas "
they spent with their grandparents and family and throw in some names" Hay we
might have been there also.
Jim R.Swimming with mermaids
nioio(a)gate.net
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