Christmas

— By Jaye Lewis Christmas is for children.  Children of all ages.  Everyone who is a child at heart.  So let us not forget the child who started it all.  A little boy, moments old, filled the world with hope and love.  I cannot tell the story better than the …

— By Kathy Anne Pippig (Harris) I live in a shelter, alone in a cageWith food, and a towel on which to sleepI’m small, with spiky fur, and of kitten ageFolks come here looking for a friend to keepSome days others and myself are taken to a homeA place where …

ÔÇ¿ÔÇ¿Words & Music by John McCutcheon, c. 1984, John McCutcheon / Appalsong ÔÇ¿This song is based on a true story from the front lines of World War I that I've heard many times. Ian Calhoun, a Scot, was the commanding officer of the British forces involved in the story shown above. He was subsequently court-martialed for 'consorting with the enemy' and sentenced to death. Only George V spared him from that fate. --- ÔÇ¿My name is Francis Toliver, I come from Liverpool.ÔÇ¿ Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.ÔÇ¿ To Belgium and to Flanders, to Germany to here, I fought for King and country I love dear. 'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung.ÔÇ¿ The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung.ÔÇ¿

-- Author Unknown
 
'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give
And to see whom in this home did live.

I looked all about. A strange sight I did see
No Tinsel. No presents. Not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.  

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came through my mind.

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,

The story behind the carol, "I Heard The Bells on Christmas Day"

-- Author unknown

Tragedy struck the home of America's most popular poet.  On July 9, 1861, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's wife, Fanny, was near an open window sealing locks of her daughter's hair in a packet, using hot sealing wax.  It was never known whether a spark from a match or the sealing wax was the cause, but suddenly her dress caught fire and engulfed her with flames.  Her husband, sleeping in the next room, was awakened by her screams.  He desperately tried to put out the fire and save his wife. He was severely burned on his face and hands.