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‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all over the floor
lay the littered remains of the day just before…
That’s a cynical view of Christmas. No presents left under the tree, just bags of tattered Christmas wrapping to go into recycling. The carcass of leftover turkey lurks in the refrigerator. The music channel has put Christmas albums away for another year and gone back to golden oldies.
There’s not much left of Christmas.
Or is there?
I rather like the idea that the walls of an opera house might somehow still resonate to Elisabeth Schwarzkopf’s soaring soprano. That a sports stadium might remember Roger Banister’s Miracle Mile. That a street in Jerusalem might remember Jesus’ sandaled feet.
Because that means something isn’t over, just because it’s over.
Categories: Soft Edges
Tags: Christmas, memory, Christopher Plummer, Bruce McLeod
Christmas is over. Crumpled gift wrap has gone into recycle bins. Santa has settled down for a long winter’s nap, or at least into an easy chair by the hearth, sipping a well-deserved eggnog; Rudolph has been put out to pasture.
And 2018 stands on our doorsteps, finger poised at the doorbell.
Hymnwriter Jim Strathdee answered that question:
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and the shepherds have found their way home,
The work of Christmas is begun!
The work of Christmas? Work? Surely you jest! Christmas is about fun, and family, and feasting -- not about work.
Tags: Christmas, Strathdee, poets, writers, composers, prophets
Christmas is just three weeks away. Silver bells ring on city sidewalks, sleighbells jingle in lanes. Coloured lights brighten the long dark nights.
And indoors, Christmas trees light up.
Our family used to go out and cut a tree. About 11 years ago, for various reasons, we switched to an artificial tree.
I figure 11 trees are still alive today, that wouldn't be otherwise.
“So what?” you scoff. Pines and firs on a Christmas tree farm were never intended to grow to maturity. They were grown to be cut down, weren't they?
Maybe. But like us, they're living things. The ancient Druids had sacred groves. I suggest that every tree should be considered sacred.
Tags: trees, Christmas