Vintage Xmas

                Now that a new year is upon us, most people turn to resolutions they will never keep. We promise ourselves. We convince ourselves. A few days later and it is like those promises were never spoken. The middle of January seems to be the cut-off point. A few weeks of trying finds most people sick of it all. Come the halfway mark of the month and things are back to normal. Granted, there are some who follow through on their resolutions. Some stick with a diet, some quit smoking. Many join a gym. It is rare to find someone who holds to their guns and proceeds throughout the year. For most of us, me included, the entire process is nothing but jumbled words that have no real meaning. Life is complicated so it is no surprise that we tend to ditch anything that might add to our mess. Our intentions are always grand come New Year’s Day, but they quietly fade away back into nothing. I suppose the tradition serves some purpose. I would argue...

               I don't know if you believe in Christmas, but I know that I sure do. It just goes without saying that it wasn't always this way. The grand expectations, the materialism, and most of all, the religiosity of the festival always left a lump of coal in both my stockings. Even as a child I doubted. Santa was as fake for me as Jesus and the Easter Bunny. I was told it was all make believe. We never got a Christmas tree, and we never exchanged gifts. As I matured, I lost touch with any sense of wonder from my youth. I put childish ways behind me, and I let go of any intangible ideas about Christmas. The holiday was not alone in this dismissal. Anything I deemed a fable, or illusion, or artificial, I cast aside. I allowed the world around me to dull and limit my imagination and in so doing, I lost any ability to consciously dream. I turned away from anything that I couldn't inspect, validate or touch. You see, my pa...

    She stood there all alone in spite of the crowd that was about her. She didn’t even know why she bothered to make an appearance. The office Christmas party was a waste of her time, not that she had anything of urgency to tend to. Why anyone would have an office Christmas party on Christmas Eve was the question almost everyone was asking. It was not long before everyone headed for the door. It may have been the quickest Yuletide celebration on record. She was just glad it was over. She really couldn’t stand all that noise. Her exit was quiet, silent to a tee. She escaped back into the world that she had left earlier that morning. Down into the parking garage she moved, counting floors as she headed towards her freedom. When she got to her car, she opened the door and sank down into the luxury the dealer had promised. She paused there and she began cry.             It had only been 3 months since the death of her husband. The c...

  The Grinch tried to change, it was easy to see All the Whos down in Whoville seemed happy indeed No more thief in the night, no more playing with facts The Grinch was quite pleased and so was his dog Max With Christmas day ending, away went the feast Away went the bounty and the last Who-roast beast Away went the Who-pudding, away went the Who-hash They filled the Who-fridge with Who-Christmastime stash The Grinch sat watching as the Whos all made haste Not a morsel of Christmas would dare go to waste All the dishes and garbage were so much to carry By the end of it all not a Who was Who-merry The Grinch knew it was over and he grew sort of sad This day was the best Christmas that he ever had The end of it all found the Grinch sitting, staring He just wasn’t used to this Who-Christmas caring The yuletide frenzy was over, and so all went to bed Even visions of sugarplums slept in their heads The room that the...

  He walked past the window every day as he came and went from work. A gentleman, he waved at Pearl Henson every morning and every evening without fail. This went on for years and he looked forward to each event. James Summer was a simple man with simple wants and few needs. He lived in the house his parents both died in, and he walked into town through the week. For 11 years, he had been Foreman at the lumber mill past town and just off the river bend. Every workday he took the same pattern. He left his yard, stepped out onto MacArthur Avenue and followed it straight down right to the lumber yard. The 2-mile trek was good exercise and made for easy strolling The Henson House rested halfway down in the old area of the village. A giant Victorian age bay window almost filled the wall that ran against the side yard. Pearl Henson sat every morning as Mr. Summer passed her way. She remained there throughout most of the day sitting, staring, lost to the world. Every evening around 5:30 P...

    Henry was barely a tree when some stupid kid snapped his top off and tossed it onto the grassy knoll that served as an entrance to the tree farm. The lot was almost a forest. He watched as each Christmas traveler crushed his broken leader into the mud. It never really grew back. As the years passed, Henry became a strong and sturdy tree. He carried himself to the standard of any Christmas tree farm. For all his vigor and stature, year after year, come the day after Christmas and he stood alone. Sitting on the edge of the lot did him no good, without fail come the yuletide season and he found himself unwanted. Passersby would comment on his beauty then walk away and desert him once again. Henry started to believe that he would never be a real Christmas tree. Despite the constant rejection, Henry managed a purpose through the rest of the year. Birds would nest in his branches and small animals would seek shelter under...