Holiday Poems and Stories
The Night Before Solstice
By Mara Pennell H.W.
T’was the night before Solstice and all through my home, I could hear tap tap tapping. I knew I wasn’t alone. The dogs were wandering all throughout the house their toenails tapping as I turned towards my spouse.
“Do you suppose they need to go out again? I seems like we just let them out about ten!” I got up from my warm bed and walked to the door scratching my head staring down at the floor..
Suddenly, in the living room I heard a great boom. What the heck was going on in that room? The dogs led the way to see what caused the clatter. I wondered myself, “what could be the matter?”
As I walked into the room I saw the tree on the floor. Immediately I got really sore! “That silly cat is to blame” I said to myself as I started to put the tree back onto its shelf - At that very moment we heard another loud bang and I knew in an instant it was the kitty cat gang. All three were wreaking havoc inside of the house. Why or why couldn’t they just go after a mouse?
The dogs were excited, they thought a game was afoot and they searched the house in case the cats left some loot. They ran down the hallway and into my office, but the cats were already starting a ruckus .
I took a deep breath and grabbed the dogs by their collars. I suspected they still needed to go outside and waller. So, I closed up the cats in my office to shut out the sight, as they stood by the door singing the song of their people all night.
Let this be a lesson if you want a good nights sleep. Put the dogs in kennel and the cats in the keep. It may be the only way to get through the night. I really do suspect I am right.
And finally at last as I headed to bed, I saw Kris Kringle watching and shaking his head. “Thats why I have no pets”, he said with a laugh. And with that he went up my chimney and I went to bed. What a night it has been I thought shaking my head.
I fell asleep soon after dreaming of starlight and snow. Happy solstice to you and all who you know!
All or None
By Pam Rodolph
When our car swung around the corner, lights hit Uncle Jake who seemed to be wrestling with something on the front lawn. My father came to a screeching halt, jumped out of the car and ran to help subdue what looked to be a burglar dressed all in black. My father was a man of action, so he pounced on the burglar with full force and knocked his front teeth out – his own front teeth, that is. The burglar turned out to be a life-sized Halloween character draped across a surface of an unforgiving concrete sidewalk. What my father heard next made him forget the teeth he now held in his hands.
“You are not in a trailer park any more. Your front lawn looks like a bad imitation of Halloween. Oh and you might consider a privacy fence in back.” My uncle was repeating this over and over as he dragged the Halloween monster out to the curb. He planted it firmly on the edge of the lawn and retreated to get another Halloween character of equal size. It was July so we were a little confused. With a stern face, he proceeded to tell us about a note he had received from a neighbor. He had no idea who as he didn’t see them put it in the mailbox. The note read, “You are not in a trailer park any more. Your front lawn looks like a bad imitation of Halloween. Oh and you might consider a privacy fence in back.”
My Uncle Jake had lived most of his life in a warm climate, the kind of climate that beckoned you to the outdoors. It was conducive to a certain kind of outdoor living that doesn’t happen back here in the Midwest. Where he came from, everyone did their living outdoors. Here, we do our living indoors. So I guess it was a culture clash.
Uncle Jake’s sense of humor was noted and appreciated by almost everyone who knew him. He always knew just how to recognize that part of any situation that would best lend itself to a joke. He had a keen eye for décor too. He could buy a few sticks of furniture at a garage sale, drag it into a room and have it looking like he had hired a designer to come in and do the most extraordinary things with very little. Well, in any case, my Uncle Jake was not one for lying down whenever he detected a threat. By the time he got through decorating, his front lawn celebrated every holiday of the year but in a slight shakeup. The skeleton sat on Santa’s lap. The elves were spanking the Easter bunny, and the Thanksgiving Indians were celebrating Valentines in a way I can’t talk about. I was once asked to write about my favorite holiday and I have to say, they were all my favorite as long as Uncle Jake lived. We went to his house every holiday because you just never knew what was going to erupt out of that plot of earth and no way were we going to miss it. They were always so unpredictable, I can’t single out one of them as my favorite, so, yow, I have to go with ALL—all or none. I loved all our holidays the most. There was nothing like them.
Bringing in the New Year
by Sara Walker H.W.
My husband Bill and I wanted to do something special during the winter holidays, back in 1985. "Let's go see Tina and George this Christmas!" Bill exclaimed. I couldn't believe he was proposing this. “Do you mean leave our warm Southern California home and fly to cold, wet London? What a crazy time of year to fly there!” I responded.
But then my intuition kicked in and I kicked my knee-jerk NO to the curb. After all, it had been several years since we had seen Tina and George and Tina's parents, Len and Gwen. Len made elegant fur coats and he was about to retire. Hmmm....Visions of fur coats started dancing in my head, and I was sure one of them had my name on it! This vacation could be unlike any other.
My Christmassy fantasies bubbled up, fed by all the holiday entertainment I'd been exposed to over the decades. Those memories were vying with each other to be the most sentimental and romantic ones in my swirling brain....
....Cozy historic pubs with fireplaces, surrounded by cheery friends;
....Christmas cake and crackers, opened with a crack when their fancy wrappers were pulled in half, spilling sweets and toys; .
...Harrods holiday window display extravaganzas;
....Snow, if we were lucky;
....Winter Solstice outdoor festivals, sending out aromas of roasted chestnuts and gingerbread; .
...Carol singing and handbell ringing
You get the idea: basically, every picturesque English Christmas scene from Dickens onward. The biggest draw of all, though, would be visiting with our dear friends. And don't forget my coat! Yes, we were going.
By the time we bought our airline tickets, the only days available meant departing on Christmas Day and returning on New Year's Day. No matter— by this time we were over-the-top excited!
The first surprise of our trip started when we landed on Boxing Day, the 26th. Since the Middle Ages, it had been known as St. Stephen's Day. That was the day when the alms boxes in the churches were traditionally opened to distribute the contents to the destitute. Nowadays, people use this day to have a second Christmas holiday and watch national sports. We had no idea it was a proper Christmas holiday, with most things shut down with few people on the streets.
Our big discovery upon landing was seeing unhappy train employees on their strike. Out went the ease of taking a train to get to our friends' home. We asked around and found a bus to take us part of the way. We had barely left the airport terminal when our bus got into an accident. Fortunately no one was injured and the bus could still run, so we continued on to our next mode of transportation, a taxi. By the time we arrived at our friends' home, we were relieved and bone-tired. It was amazing how we rallied. Only a few hours later I was getting fitted for a blue fox fur coat!
Len, Tina's step-father, was sewing this creation by hand for me. He was a renown furrier in London and this was to be my Christmas present from Bill. It was my only chance to receive Len's furry labor of love, as he was ready to retire. I was thrilled by the sensuality of it all...the soft fur and satin lining, the sheen and color, the warmth of it, how it enveloped me. I could imagine the elegant places I would go in it. It should come in handy. My warmest clothing from home wasn't enough to keep out London's chilling cold.
After settling into our modest hotel in the heart of London, we thought about what we wanted to do. I perused the list of plays and musicals available and my eyes fell upon “Cinderelly,” a Pantomime, Panto for short. I immediately chose that one; Bill was game, even though he had never heard of Pantomime. I had wanted to wade into traditional British Christmas experiences and here was a big opportunity. I found out the truth later: it really came from very un-British traditions long ago.
Pantomime began as an entertainment for adults, starting with the ancient Roman 'Saturnalia' midwinter feast, at which everything was supposed to be turned upside-down. Men dressed up as women and women as men. It evolved into modern day Panto with comically dressed male Step-Sisters and Dames; Principal Boys were young women dressed up as boys.
Pantomime still has many cross gender roles, even though now it's mostly geared to families bringing their children. It’ reminds me of the British sketch comedy series, Monty Python’s Flying Circus. The Panto plot loosely unfolds with cross-dressing, gags, buffoonery, in-jokes, sexual innuendo, music and dancing. Scottish comedian Craig Ferguson, in his 2020 memoir, summarizes contemporary pantomime as classic folklore and fairy tales loosely retold in a slapstick theatrical comedy-musical. He wrote: "Think Mamma Mia! featuring the Three Stooges but with everyone's back catalogue, not just ABBA's", mixed with audience participation reminiscent of showings of the film The Rocky Horror Picture Show.[47]
The production we saw had a British rock star playing the prince. Several actors were cross dressing--including the two Ugly Step-Sisters, Ursula and Cruella:
Ursula: “Does sleep make you beautiful?”
Cruella: “Of course it does.”
Ursula: “Then you must have been lying awake a lot.”
Cruella: “Don’t be so cheeky. Men say I have everything they want.”
Ursula: “You have – muscles, a hairy chest and a moustache.”
The Panto used call-and-response from the actors to the audience and back. It was a far cry from my childhood though, when the preacher recited religious litanies and we churchgoers responded back in kind! The actors asked for and got our audience to compete in a singalong. Throughout the Panto, they encouraged us to throw in cheers, jeers, ahhs and boos as often as we could.
I saw first-hand how the children were indoctrinated into British culture, with Panto substituting for traditional governesses and old-school instruction. We roared at the bawdy humor and double entendres, much of it sailing over the children's heads. Bill guffawed, temporarily overcoming his biases, since men in drag and gender role reversal usually disturbed him. The actors' buffoonery and slapstick was especially funny to the children. When they giggled, we laughed even harder.
I still can't believe we chose “Cinderelly” over attending the London debut of ‘Les Miserables’’ but we had no regrets. No doubt “Les Mis" would come to Los Angeles at sometime. Panto, on the other hand, we could see only during Christmastime in England, an experience I did not want to miss... an untraditional tradition.
I don't remember much of how we filled the next few days, except it was a blur of bitter cold while running in and out of stores and pubs to get warm again. I watched my stereotypical media memories disintegrate, no match for the cold. We had "thin blood" from living in a warm clime, and my fur coat wasn't finished yet!
Finally, December 31st arrived and we returned to Tina and George's home to get ready for our big New Year's Eve together. We were going to be walking in the freezing cold to get to our destination: our friends’ favorite pub, The Mucky Duck. But now I had a warm fur coat to wear! By the time we arrived we were past ready to indulge in its food and drinks, warm by the fire.
There was some dancing. OK….Admittedly it was mostly me dancing, along with anyone I could convince to give it a go. We found everything belly-laughingly funny: the comradery of telling jokes; toasting each other, including new friends we made; and the pub staying open past closing hour with the lights off and door locked, so the pub owner wouldn't get in trouble with the bobbies! When our ribs and cheeks were sore from all our laughing, we knew it was time to leave.
The four of us carried our love and joy out into the arctic temperatures in the wee hours of this crystal clear night. There was no distance between us, the moon, the few planets we could see and the luminous stars. We felt our intoxication way beyond drinks and good cheer. We crunched across an open field of packed snow under the bright moonlight, in exquisite all-encompassing beauty. We sang, hugged….and yes, I was still dancing. Now I realized what we had come on this trip for: giving up our expectations and letting go, extending beyond our limits and feeling the wonder of loving oneness.
Our non-traditional fairytale time of our lives was nearing an end. As our airplane cut through the thick smog to land in LAX, I hugged myself in my fur coat. It was already over 70 degrees outside, but I couldn't let the dream end yet. I had to hang onto it a bit longer, hoping it would get cold enough somewhere, sometime to wear my coat again...and to wander into the wondrous warm spirit of a cold land.