From the Archives
An excerpt from a longer piece:
I want to live in a land
where it's often the day
after Christmas.
Hallowe'en pumpkins cluster
under Christmas trees;
songs of harvest
are overcome by Jingle Bells.
To insure delivery by Christmas,
mail now to Europe.
Look for clever things to send,
choose the gifts for one and all,
making sure costs are even,
and wrap them tastefully and well.
Thanksgiving dinner looms.
Dodge the children seeing Santa,
drop large coins into big red kettles.
Christmas cards to be mailed,
include a note in every one;
arriving ones must be acknowledged.
Wrap the gifts, tie the ribbons,
decorate the house and tree.
I tire of Christmas before it's here.
The Eve: what isn't done never will be.
My guests please me, and yet
I love best the day after Christmas,
released from labored anxiety
of days and months in preparation,
to celebrate in solitary joy
the miracle of my own children.
Written years ago by Marguerite Louise
I want to live in a land
where it's often the day
after Christmas.
Hallowe'en pumpkins cluster
under Christmas trees;
songs of harvest
are overcome by Jingle Bells.
To insure delivery by Christmas,
mail now to Europe.
Look for clever things to send,
choose the gifts for one and all,
making sure costs are even,
and wrap them tastefully and well.
Thanksgiving dinner looms.
Dodge the children seeing Santa,
drop large coins into big red kettles.
Christmas cards to be mailed,
include a note in every one;
arriving ones must be acknowledged.
Wrap the gifts, tie the ribbons,
decorate the house and tree.
I tire of Christmas before it's here.
The Eve: what isn't done never will be.
My guests please me, and yet
I love best the day after Christmas,
released from labored anxiety
of days and months in preparation,
to celebrate in solitary joy
the miracle of my own children.
Written years ago by Marguerite Louise
posted by marguerite louise at
9:06 AM
11 Comments:
This is a gift to your children.
Love,
Doris
By
Anonymous, at 11/03/2005 9:34 AM
I second Doris' comment! Thank you!!!!
By
Anonymous, at 11/03/2005 10:29 AM
Awww...what a lovely sentiment! Lucky kids!
By
Anonymous, at 11/03/2005 12:32 PM
How nice. And I completely agree.
By
Marguerite, at 11/03/2005 9:32 PM
Very nice entry and sentiment.
And on the spam comments, I just started getting that recently. There is an option, though, for Blogger comments to ask for an authentification code. The person commenting has to type the code that they see in a separate box in order to post. That's stops the spammers because 99.9% of spam comments you get are automatic machines doing them and the machines can't read the code in order to enter it.
By
Tah, at 11/04/2005 1:16 AM
Just turned on word verification for mom to eliminate a spam problem.
Now I get to be the first to try it out for this comment.
By
Marguerite, at 11/04/2005 12:07 PM
Thinking more about this poem and the seasonal images it paints reminded me of when I was a young girl working in a big city department store.
The employees would leave one season behind at closing time as the art dept. swooped in with ladders, lights, tools and bolts of fabric to work all through the night transforming the whole place for the next season or holiday-and all before opening the next morning.
I thought the most beautiful and magical was the change from Autumn leaves and corn stalks to lush, cottony "snowdrifts", gossamer-gowned angels, red velvet Santas and millions of tiny lights on 2-story tall fir trees. In those days (the late 60s), robed choirs from the neighborhood churches came to our store to sing carols each Saturday night in December and many people crowded the stairways and vestibules, not to shop, but to hear them. On Christmas Eve, the lights were dimmed and all transactions were suspended for a few minutes as a choir closed its performance with "Silent Night".
As hokey as it may sound to today's jaded, cynical shoppers, it was absolutely thrilling and if that tradition were in place today, I wouldn't be buying Christmas gifts online in October!
By
Anonymous, at 11/04/2005 5:41 PM
Thank you for your comments!
By
marguerite louise, at 11/04/2005 5:52 PM
As young art students at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago (ca 1940) we picked up a little Christmas money by working part time at one of the wonderful department stores on State Street. Those memories are very much like the ones Sharon describes. I wrote the poem in this blog ca 1995. It reflects what Christmas has become here in southwest Michigan. Around that time we began to see Christmas trees twinkling away in stores before Halloween. And the pressure was on!
By
marguerite louise, at 11/04/2005 10:08 PM
Chicago at Christmas...how exciting! I've never been there, but how well I remember Wanamaker's in Philadelphia! We took our boys there when they were young and they rode the monorail that ran around the toy dept. The whole family looked forward to spending a December weekend in Philly and Christmas shopping at Wanamaker's.
By
Anonymous, at 11/04/2005 10:44 PM
What wonderful sentiments; a tribute to you and your children. I too love, Boxing Day (harkening back to my Canadian roots) and the relief that washes over you knowing that the pressure if off.
By
Anonymous, at 11/06/2005 10:43 PM
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