I’m not able to type on my outdated computer at the Old Folks Hotel, and even if I could, my daughters would sensor 50% of what I wanted to say. (I’m well into my 90s and have no trouble telling whoever reads this column that the liberals have gone too far left. How far is far enough for them? Is there even a line?) Since my daughter has to somehow translate my thoughts onto paper, I’ve asked her to simply remind people that God and family are all that matter in this broken world. If you find yourself broken, fix it.
She mentioned an article I wrote about missing the point of the holidays by getting too busy. Maybe it will inspire us to slow down this holiday, but I bet it won’t. Here it is:
A few years ago, an old high school classmate and good friend, Frances Schuessler Greene, gave me a poem about the day after Christmas. It made me wonder how we got so far away from the original message of Christmas. God came to Earth as a baby, to dwell among us, and we celebrate it by running around Target and stuffing our giant SUV’s with more gifts than anyone will ever use.
It’s not my place to judge if you choose to stand in the WalMart self-checkout line for 45 minutes. These days we might as well put on a blue WalMart smock with a nametag since we’re ringing up our own purchases, bagging our own items, returning our carts, and even answering others’ questions. A kind lady helped my daughter find Dark Molasses the other day and she certainly didn’t work for the store. “Aisle 6” she said and she was right!
This reminds me, why are we looking for strange groceries and cooking ourselves into a frenzy? It always seems to add more stress to the cooks of the house (I would say women of the house but I am avoiding getting cancelled this year). I know I’m cheap, so this works in my favor, but I honestly would be happy with apples and peanut butter. And then maybe a bowl of the Chex Mix that Alton and Susan give us each year. That doesn’t cost me anything!
Enjoy the poem, but let’s vow to make some changes this year:
“Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
Every creature was hurting even the mouse.
The toys were all broken, their batteries dead
Santa passed out, with ice on his head.
Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor,
Upstairs the family continued to snore.
I in my T-shirt, new Nikes and jeans
Went to the kitchen and decided to clean
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the curtains and threw up the sash.
Then what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a little white truck with an oversized mirror.
The driver was smiling and his countenance grand
The patch on his jacket said U. S. POSTMAN
With a handful of bills he grinned like a fox
Quickly he stuffed our tiny mailbox.
Bill after bill, after bill, they still came
Whistling and shouting he called them by name.
Now Dillard’s, now Macys, now Target, now Gap
Old Navy, and Walmart, and Body & Bath,
The top of your limit- every store, every mall
Now charge away-charge away-charge away all.
He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work
He filled up the box, then turned with a jerk
He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road
Driving much faster with just half a load!
Then I hear him exclaim with great holiday cheer
“Enjoy what you got——you’ll be paying all year!!”