Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

The summer I turned 6, we moved to the wilds of Long Island. That winter, I found out about Christmas. I mean, I'd heard of it, but I didn't know anyone who had that holiday so this was all new territory. We did sing some songs in school, but they didn't make any sense, so I didn't care much about them. My neighbors across the street invited me to help trim the tree. I had no clue what that meant, but my mom thought I should go.

Into a sparkly world  of tinsel, lights, and ornaments I went, eyes wide open and unable to fully digest that majesty of it all. When it came time to assemble the manger scene, my friend Patty told me all about Jesus being born in a stable, the magic star, and the three kings. Gently, we unwrapped all the pieces, the mom, the dad, the camels, the cows, the kings.... but the baby wasn't there. We couldn't find that baby anywhere. We went back down the basement where one of her older brothers held her up high so Patty could reach in to feel around the space where the manger was stored. Suddenly, she gave a shout, and out came a little bundle. We danced with excitement that the baby was found, and we gently laid him in his manger crib. Then we settled down for hot chocolate and stories. Patty's parents told us about the night the baby was born and then about Santa Claus. When it was time to go home, Mrs. Eyerman promised she would call my mother to see if it was okay for me to go see Santa Claus at Roosevelt Field. 

I was too excited for words! I was going to see Santa Claus! I raced across the street and down the block 3 houses to my house. I ran in the door. "I can go see Santa Claus if you let me," I burst out. "I had fun, but it was almost terrible! We almost couldn't find sweet baby Jesus!"  Oddly, my mother looked like she was gonna keel over.

That night, my dad, the great make-up story artist, did not make up a story at bedtime. He recited a poem he had been compelled to memorize in school. 

A Visit from St. Nicholas

BY CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE or thomas livingston...take your pick

1923

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,

With a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

There was a lot of learning that night. I learned about Christians and their holidays. I learned that people believe different things. And I learned to ask a different kind of question.

Much of me, unknowingly, was forged that night. 

Years later, I was telling the story about sweet baby Jesus to my British grandmother. Suddenly, she began to recite, A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. She laughed at my shocked look; when she was done she said, "I bet Daddy recited that for you." I nodded, unable to say anything. "They forced him to learn it for a school assembly and he didn't want to do it, so I learned it with him. I always did love to memorize poems, even that one. It's a Christmas poem, but it has a nice cadence." Then she told me something I would never, ever forget. "Not everything that looks tasty is good to eat." 

By the way, I did get to see Santa that year I was 6...but that's a story for another Christmas Eve.

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

May this Christmas be the happiest one ever.