|
Every December my mom got out the Christmas box. Among all the goodies - the white porcelain music box that played "Silent Night," the red candle with my birthdate on it, the homemade knickknacks we kids made in school - was a stack of holiday books. Each year, as my reading level advanced, I fell in love with a new Christmas story. Those stories still speak to me now, and it's hard to know if they're really good, or if it's just the nostalgia.
My favorite, read-every-year holiday story is "The Gift of the Magi," a short story by O. Henry. I used to love "Jello Christmas." It's not quite as compelling as I remembered it, but the message is still a good one. On That Night, a beautiful novella by Elizabeth Yates, centers around the quote at the beginning: "Among the many legends surrounding Christmas Eve, there is one that states that on that night, lost things are found again." I often read A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, an oldie but goodie that teaches a lesson, paints a picture of England circa 1840, and offers a plethora of quotable lines. "The Gold and Ivory Tablecloth" is a classical Readers Digest short story by Rev. Howard C Schade. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever is a humorous Christmas read for kids and adults alike. I read it to my students this year, laughed so hard I had to quit reading, and then almost cried at the end. The Blue Carbuncle, a Sherlock Holmes story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, is set in the days surrounding Christmas. Then there are the books with holiday chapters or scenes: The opening of Little Women by Louisa Mae Alcott, with the sisters grouped around the crackling fire. The Christmas chapters in The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Who can forget Anne's happiness with the beautiful Christmas dress from Matthew in Anne of Green Gables? Better still are the chapters in Anne of Windy Poplars when Anne takes bitter, unhappy Katherine home for a Green Gables Christmas. This is only the tip of the iceberg. Which holiday books or stories did I miss and which are your favorites?
2 Comments
I've been vaguely familiar with Eugene Field's poetry all my life, but only recently did I realize he was a Missourian. Born in St. Louis in 1850, Field attended several colleges across the country, spent six months traveling in Europe, and then moved to Missouri to marry Julia Comstock and write for the St. Joseph Gazette. Most of us remember him for his lighthearted children's poetry like "Little Boy Blue" and "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod."  In St. Joseph, however, Field is most famous for another poem, a poem he wrote for an adult audience while far away in England. Lovers' Lane, St. JoSaint Jo, Buchanan County, Is leagues and leagues away; And I sit in the gloom of this rented room, And pine to be there to-day. Yes, with London fog around me And the bustling to and fro, I am fretting to be across the sea In Lover’s Lane, Saint Jo. I would have a brown-eyed maiden Go driving once again; And I’d sing the song, as we snailed along, That I sung to that maiden then: I purposely say, “as we snailed along,” For a proper horse goes slow In those leafy aisles, where Cupid smiles, In Lover’s Lane, Saint Jo. From her boudoir in the alders Would peep a lynx-eyed thrush, And we’d hear her say, in a furtive way, To the noisy cricket, “Hush!” To think that the curious creature Should crane her neck to know The various things one says and sings In Lover’s Lane, Saint Jo. But the maples they should shield us From the gossips of the place; Nor should the sun, except by pun, Profane the maiden’s face; And the girl should do the driving, For a fellow can’t, you know, Unless he’s neglectful of what’s quite respectful In Lover’s Lane, Saint Jo. Ah! sweet the hours of springtime, When the heart inclines to woo, And it’s deemed all right for the callow wight To do what he wants to do; But cruel the age of winter, When the way of the world says no To the hoary men who would woo again In Lover’s Lane, Saint Jo! In the Union Bank of London Are forty pounds or more, Which I’m like to spend, ere the month shall end, In an antiquarian store; But I’d give it all, and gladly, If for an hour or so I could feel the grace of a distant place,-- Of Lover’s Lane, Saint Jo. Let us sit awhile, beloved, And dream of the good old days,-- Of the kindly shade which the maples made Round the stanch but squeaky chaise; With your head upon my shoulder, And my arm about you so, Though exiles, we shall seem to be In Lover’s Lane, Saint Jo.  Lovers' Lane, St. Jo (circa. 1870) Lovers' Lane, St. Jo is now a busy street lined with modern houses, but the quaint way it winds through the beautiful old trees gives a glimpse of how must've looked when Fields courted his Julia via a "proper horse" and chaise.  Memorial on Lovers' Lane, St. Jo Eugene Field's St Joseph has changed a lot, and his poetry might seem unfashionable now, but the town has not forgotten him. Partway down the Lane stands a memorial to St. Jospeh's favorite poet. Three city streets are named after Field, as well as a school and an apartment building, and a Little Boy Blue statue keeps endless watch in front of the local library.  |