Night Before Christmas

In this episode, Night Before Christmas . . .
(In the spirit of Edgar Albert Guest)

I’ve wrestled with the tangled lights the way I always do—
With just enough patience left to see the project through.
I climb the ladder carefully; the years have taught me how.
To take my time with every step and keep a steady brow.

We hang the faded ornaments I’ve known since I was small, the chipped, the cracked, the tilted ones—I love them best of all.
Santa’s lost a bit of paint, the stars’ leaning right, but oh, it casts a holy glow across the room tonight.

The kitchen hums with activity, with laughter, and with cheer,
as voices drift like echoes from a long-forgotten year.
The floor is strewn with paper scraps, the clock is ticking slow,
As Christmas finds its own sweet pace and sets our house aglow.

The hallway grows a little still; the lights are dimmed, and low,
Small shoes are lined in messy pairs to wait for morning’s snow.
The fire's warm, the room is full, the world is deep and wide,
and someone brings a cherished book and settles by my side.

I clear my throat. The children gather ‘round my chair,
With eyes that hold a thousand dreams and wonder everywhere.
“’Twas the night before Christmas…”—I have read it many years,
Yet every time the magic starts, it brings me close to tears.

For Christmas isn’t in the things we polish or prepare,
It lives in moments handed down and hearts that choose to share.
So here’s to every grandfather who reads by firelight—
You help the years hold hands awhile . . . on Christmas Eve tonight.

I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious, ask questions. See you in the next episode.

Where is Santa right now?

Comments

Patrick B. Ball said…

My new listeners may ask, who is Edgar Albert Guest? Click the link in the blog post (In the spirit of Edgar Albert Guest) to find out.

December 24, 2025 at 6:09 AM

Don Hanley said…

wELL written, my friend!

December 30, 2025 at 9:06 AM

A Mother’s Day Reflection

With Mother’s Day here and the world bustling with cards, brunches, and busy schedules, I find myself reflecting on something a bit simpler: taking a moment to remember the person who helped shape my earliest sense of home. Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom. We arrived in Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition whose enormity I only fully appreciate now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped into Midwestern life with remarkable courage. Her smile could warm the coldest Illinois morning, and her hugs lingered long after she let go—quiet reminders that you were deeply loved. Born February 16, 1934, the third of four children, she grew up in Nazi-occupied La Rochelle. As kids, we listened wide-eyed to stories of soldiers patrolling her streets and fear shadowing everyday life. Yet she carried none of that darkness forward. What endured was resilience and an unwavering devotion to family—qualities she carried across the Atlantic and planted firmly in C...

Time Travel, Roving Mics, and Muscle Memory

In this episode, the 2026 Sinkankas Symposium. Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t arrive in a DeLorean. No flux capacitor, no dramatic lightning strike—just a Saturday parking pass and a name badge. And yet, somewhere between the rotunda doors and the first handshake, it happened anyway. This past Saturday, April 25th, I was transported—effortlessly and completely—back in time at the 20th Annual Sinkankas Symposium on the GIA campus in Carlsbad. Walking into that magnificent main campus rotunda early with my colleagues, Paul Mattlin and Glenn Wargo, felt like wrapping myself in a familiar, gem-encrusted blanket. It was less a building, more a family living room where nobody ever really forgets your name. The halls were quiet (a rare and beautiful thing), and the soft echo of our footsteps on the polished floors sounded exactly as I remembered it. For a moment, it wasn’t 2026—it was April 1997, my first time walking onto the beautiful, brand-new GIA campus as Director of Alumni. Som...

Freedom 7 - 65th Anniversary

Podcast - Freedom 7; 65th Anniversary . "Man must rise above the Earth - to the top of the atmosphere and beyond - for only thus will he fully understand the world in which he lives." - Socrates, 500 B.C. May 5, 2026, marks the 65th anniversary of Freedom 7's launch. Commander Alan B. Shepard, Jr. became the first American in space. A 15-minute sub-orbital flight, a day for the history books; the entire world was watching. NASA and the world had witnessed many trial runs explode violently on the launch pad. The space program was in its infancy. Unlike today, there were far too many unknowns. This prompted me to pull out one of my favorite books from my office library, Light This Candle , by Neal Thompson, copyright 2004. Light This Candle is a biography of Alan Shepard, Jr., you won't be able to put down. It's - "Story-telling at its best . . . every page is alive," says David Hartman, U.S Naval Institute. In the opening pages, you read endorsements fr...

Ode To Gemology

For over 80 years, students of gemology have struggled with spectrums, bewildered by birefringence, and simply plagued by pleochroism. The following sonnet is guaranteed to bring a smile to your face, a glow to your heart, and a simple reminder that students of life and gemology rediscover nature's gifts every day. Ode to Gemology , by a GIA on-campus student. Dispersion, fire, adventurescence. Orient, sheen, or iridescence. Refractive index, high or low. The luster should indicate that, you know. Polarization, double or single. What to do now, they intermingle. Pleochroic colors you really should see. Was that only two, or actually three? Birefringence should help you a lot. Use your polarizer and watch the spot. Now, did it jump most on low or high? Sure, you can get it if you really try! Your liquids should be an aid, I think. Does it float, suspend, or slowly sink? Just use your imagination now. (He doesn't see me wiping my brow.) Solid inclusions or only bubbles? Huh, th...

On The Fly

Search This Blog