Christmas Fun Time

This page updated: 1/3/98

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Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom home made only of stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give.
And to see just who in this house did live.
as I looked all about a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots covered in sand,
on the wall hung a picture of some far off land.
With medals and badges and awards of all kind,
a sobering thought did come to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I've seen,
for this is the home of a U.S. Marine.
I'd heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and opened a door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Could this be the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled in a poncho, a floor for his bed.
His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,
I soon realized this was more than just any man.
I realized the families I'd visit this night,
owed their lives to these people always ready to fight.
In just a few hours all the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate another Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.
I couldn't help but wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land so far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
He must have awakened for I heard a rough voice,
"Don't cry Santa, for this is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
my life is my God, my Country, my Corps."
With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I watched him for hours, so silent so still,
then noticed he shivered from the cold nights chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered my hero, from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with eagle, globe and anchor, emblazond so bold.
Although it barely fit me, I swelled with pride,
for this one private moment, I felt Marine deep inside.
I didn't want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor, willing to die in a fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, in a voice clean and pure.
Said "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day and all is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi, and good night.

Author Unknown
Submitted by Jennifer Bell

Genealogist's Christmas Eve
(Twas the Night Before Christmas)

'Twas the night before Christmas
When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even my spouse.

The dining room table with clutter was spread
With pedigree charts and letters which said...
"Too bad about the data for which you wrote;
Sank in a storm on an ill-fated boat."

Stacks of old copies of wills and such
Were proof that my work had become too much.
Our children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.

And I at my table was ready to drop
From work on my album with photos to crop.
Christmas was here, and such was my lot
That presents and goodies and toys I'd forgot.

Had I not been busy with grandparents' wills,
I'd not have forgotten to shop for such thrills,
While others bought gifts to bring Christmas cheers,
I'd spent time reserching those birhdates and years.

While I was thus musing about my sad plight,
A strange noise on the lawn gave me such a great fright/
Away to the window I flew in a flash,
Tore open the drapes and yanked up the sash.

When what with my wondering eyes should appear,
But an overstuffed sleigh and with eight small reindeer.
Up to the house top the reindeer they flew,
With a sleigh full of toys and 'ole Santa Claus, too.

And then in a twinkle, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of thiry-two hoofs,
As I drew in my head, and bumped it on the sash,
Down the cold chimney fell Santa--KER-RASH!

"Dear" Santa had come from the roof in a wreck,
And tracked soot on the carpet, (I could wring his short neck!)
Spotting my face, good 'ole Santa could see
I had no Christmas spirit you'd have to agree.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And filled all the stockings, (I felt like a jerk.)
Here was Santa, who'd brought us such gladness and joy:
When I'd been too busy for even one toy.

He spied my research on the table all spread
"A genealogist!" He cried! (My face was all red!)
"Tonight I've met many like you," Santa grinned,
As he pulled from his sack a large book he had penned.

I gazed with amusement--the cover it read
Genealogy Lines for Which You Have Plead.
"I know what it's like as a genealogy bug."
He said as he gave me a great Santa hug.

"While the elves make the sleighful of toys I now carry,
I do some research in the North Pole Library!
A special treat I am thus able to bring,
To genealogy folk who can't find a thing."

"Now off you go to your bed for a rest,
I'll clean up the house from this genealogy mess."
As I climbed up the stairs full of gladness and glee,
I looked back at Santa who'd brought much to me.

While settling in bed, I heard Santa's clear whistle,
To his team, which then rose like the down of a thistle.
And I heard his exclaim as he flew out of sight,
"Family history is Fun! Merry Christmas! Goodnight!"
(Author Unknown)Submitted by: Gayle


December 14, 1972
My dearest darling John:
Who ever in the whole world would dream of getting a real Partridge in a Pear Tree? How can I ever express my pleasure. Thank you a hundred times for thinking of me this way.

My love always,
December 15, 1972

Dearest John:
Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two turtle doves. I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just adorable.

All my love,
December 16, 1972

Dear John:
Oh! Aren't you the extravagant one. Now I must protest. I don't deserve such generosity, three French hens. They are just darling but I must insist, you've been too kind.

All my love,
December 17, 1972

Dear John:
Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really, they are beautiful, but don't you think enough is enough. You are being too romantic.

December 18, 1972

Dearest John:
What a surprise. Today the postman delivered five golden rings, one for every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, all those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.

All my love,
December 19, 1972

Dear John:
When I opened the door today there were actually six geese laying on my front steps. So you're back to the birds again huh? These geese are huge. Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can't sleep through the racket. Please stop.

December 20, 1972

What's with you and these crazy birds?? Seven swans a swimming? What kind of joke is this? There's bird poop all over the house and they never stop the racket. I can't sleep at night and I'm a nervous wreck. It's not funny. So enough with the birds, OK?

December 21, 1972

O.K. Buster:
I think I prefer the birds. What on earth am I going to do with 8 maids a milking? It's not enough with all those birds and 8 maids a milking, but they had to bring their cows. There is manure all over the lawn and I can't move in my own house. Please stop.

December 22, 1972

Hey Creep:
What are you? Some kind of lunatic? Now there's nine pipers piping. It would help if they at least played the same song. The cows are getting upset and they're stepping all over those screeching birds. What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict me.

You'll get yours !
December 23, 1972

You Jerk:
Now there's ten ladies dancing. This is getting ridiculous. They've broken most of my valuables and ripped up all of my carpeting because they couldn't spin properly. There are feathers everywhere and I think I'm allergic. On top of that the cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea. The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why the building shouldn't be condemned. I'm calling the police on you !

December 24, 1972

Listen idiot:
My house is trashed and twenty-three of the birds are dead. They've been trampled to death by eleven lords leaping on them. It's like a moshpit, and the dancing ladies are threatening to sue. The police have been by and they seem to think this is all my fault. What did I do to deserve this?

I hope you're satisfied, you rotten vicious swine.

Your sworn enemy,
December 25, 1972

Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve drummers drumming which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McHolstein.

The destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss McHolstein at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have been instructed to shoot you on sight.!!!!
With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest.

Law Offices

Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to Elves,
Vertically challenged they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the North Pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And Equal Employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid
Were Replaced with four pigs, and you know that looked stupid !
The runners had been removed from his sleigh,
The ruts were termed dangerous by the EPA.
And people started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur-trimmed red suit was called Unenlightened.
And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in overdue compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No baseball, no football, someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere, even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth.
May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth.
(Author: Maureen Topper at THOMSON-STAMFORD Date: 12/8/97 2:58 PM)

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