Today is a great day! There are days when loads get lifted. Days when our joy is complete. Days when we remember why we are here. ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.’ Christmas miracles are for each of us if we will receive them. The Gift Of The Magi is in all of our lives when we look for it.

‘Neva J, you are a good friend,’ Rosie said. ‘After my husband died, I became reculsive and morose,’ Rosie continued. ‘I comforted myself by listening to phonograph records of JFK’s speeches when he was alive and his picture on my wall,’ Rosie noted. ‘His comforting New England accent seemed to be speaking to me as a member of my family,’ Rosie mused. ‘I took to talking to myself a little; there was no one else to talk with,’ Rosie explained. President Kennedy’s voice made me feel that someone was with me, I was not alone,’ Rosie said with a tear in her eye. ‘You came along with your kindness and not being ashamed of me,’ Rosie said. ‘You made me part of your family when others shunned me or when they saw me walking down the sidewalks of Eldorado, crossed to the other side of the street,’ Rosie noted. ‘I had value in your eyes,’ Rosie said softly.

‘They called me ‘One Eye,’ Abigail said. ‘My husband and I were a well-known Vaudeville Act and traveled across the country,’ Abagail said. ‘Many people wanted my autograph, and we stayed in the finest hotels in New York City,’ Abigail said. ‘We had a car wreck that took my husband’s life and my right eye,’ Abagail said in a whisper. ‘I moved to Eldorado with no money and no ability to perform,’ Abagail said. ‘People laughed at me, and kids called out, ‘Old One Eye eats little children.’ I stayed in my little hovel with my cat. You saw me under the ragged clothes and terrible name,’ Abagail said. ‘You invited me to Christmas Dinner with Rosie and your family, and I felt after such a long time to be part of a family again,’ Abagail cried.

‘Cats accepted me while people did not,’ Mrs. W said. ‘People called me the Cat Lady,’ Mrs. W noted. ‘I watched the world through my windows and rarely ventured out,’ Mrs. W explained. ‘Some even whispered that I was a witch and cast spells on people,’ Mrs. W said in a trembling voice. ‘I have a mental illness that I take medication for, but I love people and have never hurt any living creature,’ Mrs. W. said. ‘Anyone different is ridiculed, maligned, and marginalized,’ Mrs. W noted. ‘I was a professor at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale until my illness became difficult to manage,’ Mrs. W. said. ‘I counseled many students and have served on Ph.D. committees,’ Mrs. W noted. Neva J loved me with my cats and my mental illness, and I am at her family Christmas Table today with love in my heart for her,’ Doctor W. said.

‘I was not born unusually talented, I do have the gift of love for those less fortunate,’ Neva J said. ‘Each of you has shared your gifts with me, and for that I am grateful,’ Neva J continued. ‘I have given you pocket watch fobs for your waistcoats while you have given me combs for my long black hair,’ Neva J smiled. ‘I sold my hair to purchase the Fobs, and you sold your pocket watches to buy me the lovely Combs. This is truly a brilliant Christmas,’ Neva J announced…

The grocery stores were full of happy people. They were preparing for the feast. I recall buying a turkey each year before Thanksgiving to donate to our Office Christmas Dinner, attended by over 200 people. Gerald Davis, a foreman in our group, began hosting dinner for his staff in the 1980s, and it evolved into a department-wide event. Our student staff loved the fellowship and good food. Many of our international students had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, and the Building Services Thanksgiving Dinner provided a place of love and goodwill.

I visited four stores this morning, and more to come before Thanksgiving, the big day. There is a comfort in familiar events. A sense of place in tradition. Holidays hold us together. They let us know we are still in the game. As we age, the Game of Life becomes increasingly important to us. It was easy to blow past the Holidays when we were so young and full of ourselves. There was always next year. There were places to go, people to see, and things to do. Tomorrow is another day Scarlett O’Hara said. We were building for the future, and then the future arrived while we were sleeping.

This is the Thanksgiving Starting Line of the 2025 Holiday Season. There is fun to be had, including Black Friday Adventures. A trip to Grand Rivers, Kentucky, to see the Tennessee Brooks. The Phantom Of The Opera in St. Louis and the Christmas Eve service. Soon, Advent will be here, and MJ already has the Advent Calendar full of sweet treats.

We are aboard the Holiday Train, and it is chugging out of the station. The Holiday Train is for the poor and rich alike. It has room for all people. The magic thread knits us together into a complex, majestic quilt of many colors, providing warmth against the winter.

The Woods are lovely dark and deep, and we have miles to go before I sleep,’ Robert Frost told us…that is, unless you are a deer. Today, as Mama Deer was cooking the pumpkin pie, she was wearing an orange vest. Dad Deer hid his antlers under festive Christmas lights. Bambi and Little Buck were relegated to the Den until the guns stopped sounding.

‘Mama, why do those people choose to live in tents outside in the cold?’ Little Buck asked. ‘They have no visible fur to warm them against the falling temperatures,’ Little Buck continued. ‘I see them pushing grocery carts full of sundry items,’ Little Buck said. ‘It seems that the items in the cart are all that they have,’ Little Buck noted. ‘Do they wear orange vests and caps during hunting season?’ Little Buck asked. As near as I can determine, they have no protection from freezing and starvation,’ Little Buck observed. ‘I wish we could buy them some orange vests to distinguish them from the poor, diverse people that are hunted by the government,’ Little Buck said.

‘Holidays are joyful, there’s always something new…every day is a holiday when I am with you,’ Karen Carpenter sang so beautifully. We gather in our favourite Fishbowl. We see the same faces and know all of the names of the attendees. We do not like surprises and have ensured that we will not encounter any. ‘The Others must have trained professionals caring for them. There are government services for them. Some social workers understand their needs. Most of them do not wear orange vests or caps to distinguish themselves from the destruction. ‘Are there no prisons?’ asked Scrooge. ‘And the union workhouses?’ Are they still in operation? ‘The treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?’ said Scrooge.

Today we trimmed the tree. It was a grand occasion with holiday beer and goodwill for all. Aaron helped us, and I explained the Victorian Christmas Ornaments from the First Christmas. I noted that they came from Walmart, as well as our first Christmas Tree. I considered our Christmas theme to be a Victorian Christmas. Aaron liked the blinking lights.

As the years have gone by, our Christmas Decorations have grown. I added another Nativity this season. Fontanini are the maker of the beautifully hand-painted figures. I remember Fontanini from my childhood. The longer I gaze at the figures of the three wisemen and the holy family, the more I see. What majesty and mystery the Holy Family and the three wisemen portray. What lessons do they have to tell us?

The Blo-mold Sants came out from their hiding place to stand guard by the front door and under the Christmas Tree. These Blo-mould creations were all over Eldorado when I was a lad.. Each decoration has a story. The Story of our Lives. Some have told me that they care little for tchotchkes or artistic remembrances. I value them as they chronicle my time on Earth.

‘So do you think you will get the Big Swinger Polaroid Camera for Christmas this year?’ Chet asked Billy B.? ‘I know you have a passion for Photography and you will put it to good use,’ Chet said. ‘I bet when you retire, you will take pictures every day.’Chet said with a sly smile and a wink.

‘Yes, I hope to receive a Big Sminger, but I still hold out hope for a Daniel Boone Action figure, although Neva J tells me I am too old for it…how are you first too young and then too old and never receive the gift?’ Billy B asked. ‘I hope to get a Big Swinger while Polaroid is still producing them,’ Billy B sighed.

‘What about a three-speed bicycle to ride to the location that you will snap your Polaroid Photos,’ Neva J asked. ‘You know, when I listen to Perry Como and Bing Crosby sing about Christmas on the Phonograph, I get the Christmas spirit,’ Neva J laughed.

Santa has been seen around the corner. Someone saw him in the shoe store trying on boots. Santa saw little Eddie padding his Christmas list. Santa appears to be everywhere at once as Christmas approaches. He knows who is naughty and nice, we have been told.

We need a little Christmas right this very minute. At times, Christmas signals the prosperity and hope of the year going out the door and the brilliance of the year coming in. Other times, Christmas is surrounded by sorrow and suffering, and it gives us a chance to catch our breath. Santa looks a bit different each Christmas. Bringing succor for the troubled and a chance to think about something different.

The greatest joy is not shared by all. Life brings us terrible curves and deep valleys. As we sit in the Christmas Eve Church Service, the person on your right may be suffering, and the person on the left has experienced terrible loss.

Many experience loss that they will never recover from. The only thing to do is to be a friend and sit with them, and listen.

How have we arrived at the last month of fall? September seemed like summer, and October was an Autumn Delight. Such is life. We wonder how we got so old, and this is how it happened. As we lunched with Margo and Jeff on Tuesday, we insisted that they had stayed with us two years ago. Jeff recalled that it was three years ago. We had lost a year in the shuffle. Seasons are fleeting measurements of our life’s walk. We receive four per year, and a year flies by. Thanksgiving is in a week. It looked so far away in the heat of July. Then comes Christmas four weeks later.

The rain was cold this morning in the Woods. Battalions of leaves fell in the windy, wet. The deer were skittish as the hunting days begin tomorrow. ‘Don’t the humans know that we enjoy Thanksgiving too?’ Fredi asked his mom. ‘You have pumpkin pie in the oven, and it is Margo’s favorite. ‘It is nerve-racking hiding from the hunters just before we celebrate with family and friends around the Thanksgiving table,’ Fredi said. ‘Tom Turkey told me that he and Matilda were coming to Thanksgiving dinner if they did not get shot,’ Freddi said woefully.

‘I say that there must be a better way,’ Mr. Badger proclaimed. ‘Open Season on our lives as dwellers of the Wood just before we sit down to give thanks for our blessings,’ Mr. Badger noted. ‘Bambi was crying this morning when she saw the hunters getting out of their big truck with orange vests on,’ Mr. Badger said. ‘Jerry and Elaine Squirrel will not leave their tree home until it’s over,’ Mr. Badger disclosed. ‘As Clark Griswold noted in Christmas Vacation that Eddie eats Squirrels,’ Badger said. ‘Elaine said that she is rethinking Thanksgiving as it is not safe in the Wood any longer,’ Badger observed.

‘I do not see well, but I hear the report of the guns,’ Mr. Mole said. ‘When I am out of my Den, I can not determine where the shots are coming from, and I do not own an orange vest,’ Moley noted. ‘I get so scared that I lose my spectacles and can not find them in the fallen leaves,’ Moley said. ‘I am bringing roasted chestnuts to the Thanksgiving Dinner if I can find my glasses,’ Moley noted.

‘Welcome all and come right in, it is dry and warm in the shelter,’ the Preacher said. ‘Today is Thanksgiving, although we live in frightening times of war and strife, and we will eat a dinner of fellowship for all of God’s creatures,’ the Preacher continued. ‘Those who have plenty and safety, warmth and comfort will not understand the plight of we who know deprivation, want and fear,’ the Preacher noted. ‘We are the poor of the land, those who have hope beyond our circumstances,’ the Preacher proclaimed. ‘Today we will love each other and eat a good meal while we work to end the suffering of our friends,’ the Preacher said. ‘Fear and Peace walk the rocky road of life with each of us; we must decide to choose peace,’ the Preacher said softly.

So our dear friends from England visited us yesterday. They are getting younger, and I am getting older. We spent a week with them in Maine just over a year ago. We traveld in Europe several times and they are great hosts. They talked me into my one memorable massage in Tuscany. The massage consisted of accompanying my masseuse to the massage room, where she told me that she would leave the room and I would take off my dri-fit shorts and put on the paper bikini underwear that she had illustrated to me on how to wear. Then she entered and instructed me to sit in front of a full-length mirror in my paper bikini shorts and prepare to receive the oil anointing. I closed my eyes as instructed, and it seemed a full bottle of oil was applied to my head and subsequently ran down my back and chest and to my feet. My eyes remained shut for the duration of the massage, where, at its conclusion, my friendly masseuse asked me if I felt relaxed, and I lied. She then proceeded to wash my size 16 feet. When I inquired why she was washing my feet, she responded that they were so big they would not fit in the house shoes provided, and she did not want to have oily size 16 foot prints on the floor. She provided me with a large-sized robe that I woefully could not close.

Each time I tell Massage Story, Margo and Jeff laugh until they cry. I laugh too, but not until I cry.

We visited Thelma yesterday, who was like a second mother to me. I have been friends with Thelma, Margo, Jeff, and Brent for over 50 years. Thelma invited me to dine with her and her sons, Bart and Brent, on more than one occasion when it appeared that she had just enough for them. Yet she made a place of love for a hungry teenage lad. Thelma is legendary in my annals of Christian Life. She is a true follower of Christ. A hard worker and a no-nonsense person with a big heart. Thelma is rich in spirit and grace.

There was my lifelong friend Brent Margo’s brother. My buddy from many decades ago. I worked for Brent for a while, and he treated me like a king. He was teaching me how to install carpet when I got the call to go to work at Southern Illinois University. Brent is a captain among men and my friend.

There were Mellisa and Lilly. When I requested to be Mellisa’s Facebook friend, she asked me if I were family, as it appeared that I was Facebook friends with many members of her family. Her daughter Lilly is lovely and bright as the Star of Bethlehem.

Fredi came to the dinner and is another lifelong friend of MJ and me. Fredi is such a sweet person, and seeing her was a special experience. Fredi has cared for Thelma and been there for her on many occassions. She called MJ ‘Janer’, which is what she called her so many years ago.

The Old Man is blessed by sweet memories.

So here we are again. 2025 is in its waning days. Thanksgiving is a week from Thursday. The Christmas Tree goes up on Sunday. Hope rises in the hearts of the revelers. It is good to be in the land of the living. The mundane worries of life melt away when we see those who have significant challenges. I look around at my peer group who are 68, and I think how old they look until I look in the mirror. We live in our heads, so make the furniture comfortable. I started life with an unusual affinity for Christmas. My earliest memories of the Season are so sweet that Christmas is a lodestar for my life. Jennifer celebrated Aaron’s Birthday with us this weekend. Jennifer is a wise and kind person. I see myself in Jennifer’s history of faith and her work in the Church.

Christmas is a time to reassess. Why are we here, and where are we going. MJ and I watched a Netflix drama entitled The Beast In Me. The patriarch of a wealthy family told someone that we own nothing in this life; we are just renting our possessions. He went on to say that you realize this fact more when you become old. What a wise statement. Grasping and groveling for more earthly possessions is an exercise in futility. Do you have food, raiment, and a roof over your head…be grateful.

We are excited about our trip to see the Tennessee Brooks. It will be great fun! We have a train trip planned for January to New Orleans. This is exciting, as I find January a bit of a letdown after the Christmas Season. New Orleans may become our new Maine.

What a wonderful and terrifying, scary, exciting Train Trip life is! There is no roadmap or GPS. When I retired almost 15 years ago, I wondered if I would live a bit to enjoy the benefits. We have no crystal ball. We can not read the ending of our story as members of the human family on Earth. Sadness turns the corner into joy. Joy becomes a new challenge. Just when you think that you have it all taken care of, something new emerges. So it is time to.’ need a little Christmas just this very minute.’

MJ purchased a Nativity for one of my Christmas presents. Now we have several Nativities. I never have enough. The Gift of Christ’s Birth is unparalleled. We hold the Christmas candles high on Christmas Eve to signify our humble joy for the Gift. We are still here for another Christmas Eve! We still can unlock the Secret. No one can take our place. It has been reserved from the foundations of the world. We are sons and daughters of a magnificent plan. We perform on a Pristine Stage of Life. We want to play our part well. We have studied our lines and know when to enter stage left and deliver our part. The lights are going up and the curtain is rising. Time to follow the Star…

Aaron has a birthday. We watched Frankenstein yesterday, and both of us enjoyed it. We are pocket knife aficionados. We love a good pocket knife. Aaron is a well-read man. He is like the Old Man in our mutual enjoyment of Audible Books. He is trim and fit, which is more than I can say for me at his age.

Aaron is a man who possesses the gift of being able to accomplish anything he sets his mind to. He is a comfort to MJ and me. We both love what I call scary movies. If there is a good scary movie, I know who to call upon to view it with me. He is a leader. I marvel at his ability to motivate others. Aaron has a razor-sharp mind and a keen intellect.

One of his first words was ‘Di Da’ and then he would slap his bottom lip. Of course, this was a long time ago. I have not seen him slap his lower lip lately. I am drinking a Dragon’s Milk Beer this morning in honor of our times of fellowship over the marvellous elixir.

Aaron is an entrepreneur. He sees the opportunity where others may not. His sense of humor is refreshing. His love for family is unparalleled. Aaron is an example to me. He inspires me. I live vicariously through his good works and adventures.

44 years ago seems like yesterday to MJ and me. When I carried him with his little blue hat into our little house in Elkville, I knew we were beginning an adventure that would be mysterious and wonderful. The adventure continues.

MJ and I attended a retirement dinner for our Pastor, Rev. Kerry Bean. What a great guy! Kerry is unfailingly good-natured. He came to our church in 2019 and soon captured our imaginations with his wonderful humor. Kerry is an active listener. He sees you and hears you. This is a rare quality in preachers.

Kerry lives his faith, which speaks volumes. I have worked with pastors for over 50 years and have seen firsthand what challenges they face. I quickly discovered a tender heart in Pastor Kerry, letting me know our church would be fortunate to have him longer than a year or two.

Kerry is one of the most adaptable people I have seen in the clergy. He bound up the broken-hearted and preached peace to the captives. Or, simply, many were troubled and doubting their church and faith experiences. COVID-19 suprised the world in 2020 and changed our lives. Kerry exhibited creative thinking and led our little flock through what would have destroyed many congregations.

Pastor Kerry is a playwright. His productions are wonderful and have lifted and united many who needed both to occur. Kerry introduced his lovely family, and the smiles on their faces revealed how great a husband and father he must be.

So, we are the better for having been with Rev Bean for a season. We are stronger for the experience. Kerry is a servant leader, and there is no higher compliment.

Happy sails, Pastor Kerry, on the sea of life. Our boat is strong for your guidance.