magical words, miraculous changes

it has been said
passed down from yuletide lips
Charles Dickens saved Christmas
not the man, ’twas the book
his story, we all know
if you don’t (your library copy might have gotten jammed in an 1843 chimney)

Industrial Revolution spinning at warp-speed
factory holidays are ghost shadows
we are living in the fast-pacing present–more is better
our dull, simple past soiled with slumming traditions–less was less
one floor above sweating basement workers, the future appears bright and shiny
a young boy’s father gets locked up in debtors’ prison
the child Charles, now forced to labor in a “rat-infested boot-blackening factory”

these formidable memories haunt Dickens

I imagine Charles back then
beneath winter’s moonlight
childhood terrors like bony hands slamming rusted leonine door knockers
he summons these all-too-vivid specters to do battle with his benevolent muse
the war won
A Christmas Carol is born

“…in 1867 Dickens reads A Christmas Carol. One of the audience members,
Mr. Fairbanks (a scale manufacturer) was so moved that he decided to break custom
and give his workers Christmas Day off and not only did he close the factory,
he gave turkeys to all his employees.”

magical words can inspire hearts to make miraculous changes

Little Tree

Little Tree

Charles Dickens, true to his words became an exceptional philanthropist. “…the welfare of the nation’s children was at the top of his list of concerns, and he used his pen and his considerable dramatic and oratorical powers to raise awareness of the plight of poor children and to raise money for children’s charities…”

sources in order of quoted appearance: Uncle John’s, Christmas Collection (yes, the Bathroom Reader, please don’t judge where I sometimes read😉), charlesdickensinfo.com, hharp.org

if my little poetry book love of the monster helps one heart, that would be a gift I’d keep trying to give😘

Of Giant Husbands and Little Trees

Dear Friends,
The giant husband is in the ‘green’ business. He knows quite a bit about plants, trees and Latin roots. Every year he works six days a week then for six glorious weeks, beginning Christmas Eve, the nursery closes. He gets a well-earned rest though Rocky the Shepherd, and Mojo the Dachshund usually fail to read the memo.

A few months ago I wrote a story about the giant husband. If you’d oblige, I’d like to share an edited version of it again. Because as the saying goes, “Behind every married woman who blogs, is a giant husband.” –

Back in 2000, after giving birth to the big son son I had some complications. For five days and nights after the big son came into the world, I was hooked up to tubes, monitors and I believe there were a few pots and pans (this is where I lost my dinner preparation zest). I liken the experience to an exotic vacation minus fresh air, warm sun, bright sea or anything else pleasant. Each night when the hospital room grew dark (despite bells, whistles, alarms and flashing lights) there was the giant husband, ‘sleeping’ at the foot of my hospital bed atop two small chairs smooshed together.

Though the giant husband makes things around him appear smaller, he makes anyone around him feel grand. My Christmas gift every year is having him home for the holidays.
BP finalThank you. May you dream of someone who makes you feel grand…
Giant Husband, Delicate Daughter, Tiny Tree rendered today while listening to, It’s a Wonderful Life

A note: The other day I had the amazing fortune of talking to a selfless father and fellow blogger, Simon Tocclo of Liberian Me. The reason I bring this up here is when there are complications during birth, mothers (in the poorer areas of Africa) don’t survive. So when you dream, please dream of hope for those in need around the world…thank you.