Christmas Poem 3

5 Decenber 2025

This was my first Christmas blog post, thirteen years ago.

25 December 2012

Merry Christmas to all! I hope everyone got what they needed, and a few of the things they wanted! Remember whose birthday it is, and give thanks to He who gives us everything. . . .

The following poem, “Christmas Morning,” is another attempt to recapture and record Christmas spirit long past:

Christmas Morning

Growing up our family tradition
Christmas morning
waking
Dad–for until Father
got up
no ribbon untied no
paper torn no
package opened we
waited
doe-eyed before
Christmas tree
kids in candy store hands
tied
by stern tradition whoever
woke
first–often before
5 AM–would sneak
downstairs first
glimpse of tree
no longer empty
Christmas stockings
bulged
filled
with candy & treats
packages & boxes
wrapped
explosion of color
tied
with sparkling ribbons & bows
Santa had come no
hint
of coal anywhere
except in our basement
green-metal hopper
insatiable appetite I
had to fill
with oily black rocks
dumped
into coal chute
packed–
by me–in black metal bucket
endless loads
brothers always wondered how
I became so strong–
endless toting buckets
of oily black coal. . . .

First up saw tree presents first
woke-up
rest of us–
during those years I
delivered
morning paper for Tribune
up at 4 AM
back by 5:30 I
was often first
sitting
by brightly glowing tree
drinking
warm Ovaltine
made
with hot tap water powdered
milk I sat
staring
with greedy anticipation
wondering
how parents of limited means
managed
all these gifts for all
of us.

The rest soon came down
bursting
with excitement
anticipation
new toys Santa had
left
under our tree
once all were up–
or small majority–
we’d begin annual ritual
waking
Dad we would
pound
up the stairs
crash
into their bedroom
hurl
ourselves onto their bed
rousing
Mom at once
excited chants filled
silence repeated
“Santa came! Get
up! We want to
open
our presents!” we’d
plead
wheedle
beg
shake
bounce
pummel
old man resolutely
ignoring us
feigning
sleep until Mom
returned from dressing
starting
breakfast Dad finally
groaned
rolled
over pretending to wake
take his time
dressing
shaving
brushing
teeth & hair
while we continued
pleading
cajoling
but nothing
interrupted
his morning routine he
dragged
it out until most of us
were in tears
fearing
presents would simply
vanish
if not opened before
sunrise–
they never did.

When I learned that
terrible truth
when I entered into that
adult secret I
joined
old man feigning sleep
looked
forward to day when
my children had to
wake
me from feigned sleep
excited
as they were magic
renewed tradition
revived.

Now I look forward to
next generation–
best of all–
grandchildren for whom I will
feign sleep
drag my feet
(no great stretch!)
seeing magic
renewed
Christmas morning tradition
revived. . . .