MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

[MCWAY]

No specific topic or anything. With all the running around I've done in the past week, I haven't had enough time to post here.

Merry Christmas to all!!!!!

MCWAY

[Dos Equis]

Mele Kalikimaka!   

[loco]

Thanks McWay!  Feliz Navidad!  Peace, prosperity, good health and happiness to all, atheists, agnostics, deists and theists alike!   

Isaiah 9:6
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

[Butterbean]

Merry Christmas!

[blinky]

Merry Christmas to everyone too.

lets try and remember what today is really about

[Colossus_500]

Merry Christmas, everyone!  Hope you enjoyed celebrating with family and friends yesterday.  I'm stuck at work today.     Got a story for you though.  Enjoy.   

THE NIGHT MY FATHER CAME HOME
Author Unknown

My mother said he was gone for good, but I thought if I wrote to Santa Claus . . .

As soon as I wrote the letter I went down to the post office to mail it, so it would get there in time. Boy, there were about a million people standing in line and everything, and in there was all that Christmas music coming out of a big horn on the wall.

Pretty soon I found the place in the wall where you put letters in, but it was too high up. So I went out again and I went around to the back of the post office, where there were these big doors open and a man was carrying boxes out to a truck. There must have been a million boxes. I never saw so many.

There was nobody there but him. He was kind of tall and thin and his face was dirty from where he kept rubbing his hand across it. He had freckles and his ears stuck out. I don’t know how old he was. Pretty old. Twenty-five, I guess, like my father. He kept picking up these boxes and throwing them on the truck, and he didn’t see me, so I yanked on his coat.

“Here’s a letter,” I said. “The place out there where you’re supposed to put it in is too high up.”

He was lifting this big box, and he stopped and looked at me. It was kind of a mad look. Then he looked down at the letter and he made a noise like my father the time he never saw this skate I left in the hall until he kind of slid downstairs on it.

“That’s what I’ve been waiting for,” he said. “A letter to Santa Claus.” He kind of groaned. “It might interest you to know that we have sent out one hundred and forty-three thousand pieces of mail in the past week and that there will be at least twice that much in the next three days before Christmas. This makes my day complete.”

I was glad he was glad even if he didn’t look so happy. He didn’t take the letter, so I held it out again. “Will it get there right away?” I said. “It’s important.”

“How old are you?” he said. He still sounded mad.

“Six,” I said. “Well, five.”

“What’s your name?” he said.

“Joe,” I said.

“Look, Joe,” he said. He sure looked like he was going to yell at me, but all of a sudden he didn’t, like my father the time I took his shaving soap to make some frosting for my mud pies. “Joe, I can’t take your letter,” he said. “Believe me. It won’t go any place . . . I mean Santa Claus has already left the North Pole, see, so he can’t get any more letters. So just take it back to your folks. They’ll take care of it for you.”

He didn’t understand anything. “Look, I haven’t got folks,” I said. “I mean I’ve got a mother, but she works in a store all day and I have to stay with Mrs. Henderson next door all the time after I get back from school. That’s what I wrote in the letter. I want my father to come home.”

“Where’d he go?” He looked at me kind of funny, like he was waiting for something. He was sure dumb.

“He just went away,” I said. “He just got hurt in an accident and then he went away. My mother said he won’t ever come back any more, but I want to surprise her. He’s got to come back for Christmas, on account of he promised I would get some marbles and a baseball glove and a football and an electric train. Last year I wasn’t old enough, but I am now.”

“Look, Joe,” he said. He sounded real tired all of a sudden. “I’m busy. I’m sorry. Go home, will you? I can’t take your letter.”

“Sure you can,” I said. “It’s got a stamp on it.” What was the matter with him anyway? He was starting to pick up all those boxes again, so I just put it on this table where there were about a million letters and I walked out.

“I’ll be back pretty soon,” I said. “Tomorrow; I guess there’ll be an answer by tomorrow for sure.”

I could hardly wait, thinking how surprised my mother was going to be and everything. So the next day, as soon as the school bus let me out at the corner at noon, I ran down to the post office. There were some other people moving boxes around in this big room, so I just kind of walked around the edge until I saw him in another little empty room. He was sitting on a box, eating his lunch.

“Did I get a letter yet?” I said. I was kind of out of breath.

Pretty soon he gave this big sigh, like my father once when I cut up his pajamas for a Halloween costume. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “a letter did turn up this morning addressed to somebody named ‘Joe.’ And nobody . . . nobody . . . could have been more surprised than I was.”

“I knew it!” I said. “I told you so!” It was for me, all right. I could see my name “Joe” on the envelope, but there was a lot of writing, like typewriting, on the paper inside, so I gave it back to him. I was in a hurry.

“I can’t read writing very well,” I said. “You read it. Hurry up! I told you he was coming home.”

“Now wait a minute, Joe,” he said. “Let’s wait and see what the letter says.”

I could hardly wait. I kept kind of jumping up and down, I was in such a hurry. “Sit down, will you?” he said.

I sat down on this box beside him. He began to read kind of fast and running the words together:

    Dear Joe:

    Thank you for your letter. I wish I could make sure that your father would be home for Christmas but I’m afraid I can’t, so please don’t count on it. However, I hope you have a Merry Christmas.

    Very truly yours,

    Santa Claus

“Is that all?” I said. “There must be more. Maybe you dropped the other part somewhere. Look around,will you?”

He let out another big groan. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “now that you mention it, I guess I did forget one thing. Some marbles turned up here this morning addressed to somebody named ‘Joe.’ I guess they’re for you too.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out this sack of marbles. Boy, they were real good marbles and everything, and I was sure glad to get them. But I was still worried about the letter. “I guess I better hurry up and write another letter,” I said. “You can mail it for me like you did before. I guess I didn’t say how important it was. Anyway, I want to thank him for the marbles.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “I give you my personal guarantee that there is no point in writing another letter.”

“This time you write it,” I said. “You can make it sound better. Thank him for the marbles and tell him how important it is that my father comes home, and not to forget the rest of the things I’m supposed to get, like the baseball glove and the football and the electric train. Mail it right away, will you?”

“Joe,” he said, “you’re a determined man. So am I. Right now I am eating my lunch.” He took out this big ham sandwich.

“Is that a ham sandwich?” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Is it good?” I said.

“Yes,” he said. He looked at me kind of mad and he kept on chewing real hard, and then he took another ham sandwich out of the bag. “Could I possibly persuade you to join me?” he said.

“Sure,” I said. It was good, too. I was hungry.

“What’s your name?” I said.

“Al,” he said.

Pretty soon we finished the sandwiches. Then he took out this big red apple and started to eat it. “My father used to cut up apples with his penknife,” I said.

“I’ll bet he did,” Al said. “I’ll bet he had to, in self-defense.”

I watched Al cut up the apple, and we ate it for awhile.

“How come you don’t want to write this letter for me?” I said. “Don’t you know how to write a letter?”

All of a sudden Al threw the apple core clear out the door to the alley.

“I know how to write a letter, all right,” he said. “I just don’t know how to get the right answers.” Maybe there was a worm in the apple or something. He sure looked funny.

“How come?” I said. “You mean you don’t think you’re going to get what you want for Christmas either?”

“You might put it that way,” Al said. “Only in the Army we called it a ‘Dear John’ letter.”

“What’s a ‘Dear John’ letter?” I said. “Is it good or bad?”

“Let’s just skip it, Joe,” he said pretty soon. “All it means is that a girl married somebody else.”

“Girls are sure dumb.” I said. “Playing with dolls and kissing people and everything. I hate girls.”

“Hold that thought, Joe,” Al said. “It may come in handy later on.”

“If you’re in the Army, how come you work in the post office?” I said.

“I got rotated home last month,” Al said. “I needed a job. The post office needed an extra clerk for the Christmas rush. We were made for each other.”

“Well, I guess I better get home, on account of Mrs. Henderson will have a fit,” I said. “Don’t forget to write the letter right away. Make it a good one. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Al kind of groaned again, like my father the time my white rat made a nest in his bedroom slipper.

“Look, Joe,” he said, “we’ve just been through all this. Take my word for it, it’s a lost cause. I can’t possibly write the letter.”

“Sure you can,” I said. “I’ll pay you back for the stamp and everything out of this money I saved up for Christmas. Send it airmail.”

I came right back after school the next day, and Al was eating his lunch again in this kind of empty room. He didn’t even look up when I came in. He was eating a fried-egg sandwich.

“Where’s the letter?” I said. “Does it say my father is coming for sure?”

Al just kept on eating. He had kind of a fried-egg mustache.

“Didn’t it come yet?” I said. “There’s only one more day until Christmas.”

“Look, Joe,” Al said. “Let’s not kid ourselves. I told you there wouldn’t be any letter.”

“Maybe it just didn’t get here yet,” I said. “Wasn’t there even a bag or a box or anything, like last time when he sent the marbles?”

Al let out this big long sigh. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “now that you mention it, I do remember finding this paper bag with your name on it. There seems to be some kind of big glove in it.” He gave me this old wrinkled paper bag.

“That’s the baseball glove!” I said. “Don’t you even know that?” Boy, was he dumb. It was about a million times too big, but it was sure a good glove. “That’s one of the things I’m supposed to get for Christmas,” I said. “Don’t you remember? I already told you. There were the marbles and the baseball glove and a football and an electric train.

“I know,” Al said. “Just don’t keep reminding me.”

“Is that a fried-egg sandwich?” I said.

Al gave it to me and took out another one.

“Joe, I’m eating my lunch,” he said. “I mean, we’re eating my lunch. Don’t you ever get anything to eat at school?”

“You’re not supposed to eat anything at school!” I said. He sure didn’t know anything. “You’re supposed to learn things. Didn’t you ever go to school?”

“Off and on,” Al said. “What things are you supposed to learn?”

“Drawing and things,” I said. “I’m in kindergarten. What were you supposed to learn?”

“Drawing and things,” Al said. “I was going to be an architect.”

“I bet that would be fun,” I said. “What is it?”

“It’s somebody who builds things,” Al said. “Like houses and so forth.”

“Listen, Joe,” He said. “I’ve got to get back to work. You’ve got to go home. Let’s just skip the whole thing. Go play with your marbles.”

So then he went back in this big room with all the boxes, and he went inside one of these cages where people sell stamps and everything. He shut the door, but I could tell which cage it was on account of it said STAMPS on the glass bar. There wasn’t hardly anybody in this big room, so I went around the edge until I got to his door and I opened it real quiet. There were about a million people lined up on the other side of the cage, waiting to buy some stamps and everything.

“Hey, Al,” I said. “We forgot to look for the letter. I’ll come back tomorrow and help you find it.”

“Listen, Joe,” Al said. “I’ve done all I can. I’m sorry, believe me. Run along now, will you?”

The next day it was Christmas Eve, only not until that night, you know what I mean. I didn’t get to go to the post office after school, on account of Mrs. Henderson picked me up, but pretty soon I sneaked out while she was baking some cookies and she thought I was taking a nap.

I guess it was pretty late, all right; it was almost dark by the time I got there. It was sure cold. The back door to the post office was locked. I couldn’t even open it. So I came around the side and there was somebody sitting on the steps. It was Al. He was sort of shivering and his face looked kind of blue.

“I was looking for you,” I said. “My mother said last night that my father really isn’t going to come home for Christmas, no matter what. She said I shouldn’t of bothered you. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Al said. “Everything bothers me.” He gave me this kind of lumpy-looking big bag. “I just thought I’d better make sure you got this package that came for you today. It looks like it’s got some kind of a ball in it.”

“That’s a football!” I said. Boy, it was a real football, like they use in a football game and everything. “Thanks for waiting,” I said. I sat down beside him on the steps. It was pretty cold, all right . . .

“Joe,” Al said, “why don’t you go home?” He looked like my father the time I put this real swell lizard I found once on his plate at dinner. “Doesn’t anybody pay any attention to where you are?”

“Sure they pay attention,” I said. “They think I’m asleep. My mother has to work late tonight until nine o’clock in the store, and she said afterwards she’s going to go out again and get the Christmas tree. Only the thing is, I’m going to surprise her. I’m going to get this big tree and put it up like my father always does, so we can put the electric train under it.”

“What electric train?” Al said.

“The one I wrote about in the letter. Only it hasn’t got here yet.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Al said. “You can’t be too sure about getting things. For example, you need an electric train, but I need a new suit. One of us is apt to be disappointed.”

“It’ll come, all right,” I said. “Everything else did. It’ll probably be there when I get back home. Do you like to pick out Christmas trees and put the ornaments on and everything?”

“No,” Al said.

“I never bought a Christmas tree before,” I said. “I went with my father. But I guess it’s easy, all right.”

“Have you got any money?”

“Sure I’ve got money,” I said. I guess he thought I was dumb or something. “I had almost a dollar saved up, and I spent fifty cents for a present for mother, so I’ve got thirty-five cents left.”

I started down this street where I saw this big place where they sell Christmas trees, but I couldn’t hardly even see the post office, it was too dark. So I kept on going.

Pretty soon I heard somebody in back of me. It was Al. “Hey, Joe!” he said. He had this kind of funny look on his face, like my father the time I made this big Father’s Day card for him at school and brought it home. “I just happened to think of a fellow I know who sells Christmas trees,” Al said. “I saw some big ones there for about thirty-five cents.”

“Well, it was down this way,” Al said. “But if you don’t mind waiting, I’ve got an errand to do first in the hardware store.”

Al told me to wait outside the hardware store, and he was in there for a pretty long time, but I didn’t mind waiting on account of there was this electric train set up in the window with tracks and bridges and tunnels and everything. It sure was a swell train.

It was a good thing Al came along when I bought this Christmas tree at this place he knew for thirty-five cents, on account of I couldn’t even carry the tree, it was so big. Al had to carry it. I helped him some. It sure smelled good.

It was a pretty long walk home. By the time we got there this truck was stopped out in front and a man was just putting a big box in front of our door in the hall.

“That’s my electric train,” I said. “I told you it would get here.”

“That’s right,” Al said. “Now that I think of it, you did tell me.”

Mrs. Henderson was sure mad when she saw I had sneaked out and everything, but Al said he would get me some supper, so after awhile she unlocked the door to our apartment and we went inside. Boy, the tree I bought was too big, even, but it fitted fine after Al cut off the top of the tree like my father used to do.

It turned out this electric train was so big it ran all around the living room. First we put down the tracks and the bridges and the tunnels and the trestle and the freight cars and the engine and the passenger train and the caboose. Then Al put all these ornaments we had on the tree while I put the marbles and the baseball glove and the football underneath, like they were supposed to be.

He had just put this big star on the top of the tree when my mother came in. Boy, was she surprised. She looked kind of tired and messed up and she was carrying all these packages.

“This is Al,” I said.

My mother looked at Al and he looked at her, and all of a sudden they kind of smiled. Her face got all red and she sort of just stood there.

“Well, this certainly is kind of you,” my mother said. Her voice sure sounded funny. “Joe has told me so much about you. I don’t know how to thank you.”

Al started to climb down off the kitchen stool and he sort of fell down the last step. “It was a real pleasure,” he said, real polite and everything. He sounded kind of funny too. “I really enjoy trimming a Christmas tree.”

What was the matter with him, anyway? He didn’t like to trim Christmas trees. “Well, I’ll be on my way now,” he said. “I’m very glad to have met you.”

“Oh, do you have to hurry off?” my mother said. “I’m sure Joe would like you to stay.” Boy, her face was sure pink. All of a sudden she didn’t look so tired. “I’ve brought home some fruit cake and I’ll just put on some coffee. It won’t take a minute. Won’t you sit down?”

My mother sat down in a chair. Al sat down in another chair.

“I understand you work in the post office,” my mother said. “That must be interesting work.”

“Well, it’s only temporary, of course,” Al said. “I’m thinking of going back to study architecture. That’s the career I’m really interested in, building and all.”

What did he say that for? He didn’t like building at all. “Hey, Al,” I said, “how come . . .”

My mother got up and went into the kitchen and started to make some coffee. Pretty soon you could smell the coffee and the Christmas tree all together. It sure smelled good. Al turned on the Christmas tree lights and then he built a fire in the fireplace and then he made the train go. It ran all over the room, under the bridges and over the mountains and through the tunnels. I never saw such a good train.

Pretty soon my mother started to bring in a lot of things to eat, like when we had a party with my father in front of the fire. Her face was all pink, and she kept on smiling and everything. She sure looked nice.

“Do you live around here?” she asked Al.

“Yes, I have a room a few blocks away,” Al said. “But before too long I want to build a house with a big yard and plenty of room for a dog and all that.”

What did he go and say that for? Boy, he sure must have changed his mind or something.

“Hey, Al,” I said. “How come . . .”

“Joe,” Al said, “there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you for quite some time.”

“What?” I said.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

And that was the night my father came home.

[Colossus_500]

I know that story I just posted may be too long for some.  Perhaps you might enjoy this video from Michelle Malkin as she discusses the birth of Christ.

[columbusdude82]

Yeah, nothing evokes images of the baby Jesus like an O'Reilly wannabee... 

Next Easter, I will listen to Ann Coulter's sermon about how Jesus will return at the rapture to smite the Democrats ...

[MCWAY]

A "BUMP", just for you, Deedee.

MERRY (belated) CHRISTMAS!!!

 

[Butterbean]

Merry Christmas Deedles

[Deedee]

Phew! My faith is restored and the world can carry on.