On The Fly

I n 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,...

In this episode - Tracking Santa . . . This Christmas Eve, people worldwide will download the NORAD Tracks Santa Claus app from iTunes or Google Play to follow his progress through U.S. military radar. This all started in 1955, with a misprint in a Colorado Springs newspaper and a call to Air Force Colonel Harry Shoup’s secret hotline at the Continental Air Defense Command, now known as NORAD. The story has it a young boy dialed the unlisted phone number of the Air Defense Command Operations Center in Colorado Springs, Colorado, believing he was calling Santa Claus after dialing a number from a promotional Sears ad in a local newspaper. The commander on duty that night, Colonel Shoup, quickly realized the mistake and assured the youngster that Air Command would guarantee Santa a safe journey from the North Pole. “So asked him, “Have you been a good boy and, ‘May I talk to your mother?’ The mother got on and said, ‘Have you seen the paper yet? There’s a phone number to call Santa. It’s ...

Memories or is it traditions that make the holidays special? If it’s memories, today I experienced a flood of them. How you ask? Well, today, for the first time in years, as I entered Joes Hardware in Fallbrook, California I was surprised to see front and center a W. R. Case and Sons Cutlery Co. knife display. This took me back . . .  Christmas shopping at Marshall’s TrueValue Hardware store in Cuba, Illinois. You see, when you walked in the front door, just to your left was a special display of Case knives. I had to stop and look at the wide selection thinking someday I’ll be old enough to buy myself one . Why Case? Because that’s what Dad always used. You see, my Dad was a traditional outdoorsman. A hunter. He loved to hunt; rabbits, squirrels, quail, pheasant, raccoons (coons), whatever was in season. His spare time was spent in the woods hunting or on a river fishing with his children. No, not for sport. It supplemented his income. As a boy it was my job to hold the ...

“Twas Christmas-Eve day," and all through our house, The kitties were stirring, in search of a mouse. With Missy on guard, and Junior prowling ‘round. We were watching TV, not making a sound.   The stockings were hung on the mantel with care, In hopes that Junior would not go on a tear. Filled with ornaments and lights, to brighten the season, The house was all warmed . . . 'gainst the cold was the reason. Mother was nestled all snug her chair, While the TV was blaring with holiday fares. Me in my sweater, with Junior in lap, Had just settled in for an afternoon nap. Sunlight caressed the freshly mown lawn, Gave warmth to the day, as dog-walkers trudged on. Then the doorbell rang, there arose such a clatter, Junior sprang from my lap to see what was the matter. Away to the window, he flew like a flash, Tore open my leg, while Missy chewed on the sash. When what to my drowsy eyes should appear, But gift-bearing neighbors, w...