REMARKS: THERE WAS SOMETHING MAGIC ABOUT CHRISTMAS EVE

I don't know if there is any feeling quite like Christmas Eve and Christmas morning for a child. Even as the years ago by and I advance through my thirties, I can still feel the special tingle occasionally, of the old Christmas Eve magic. The anticipation and the sheer magic made Christmas Eve almost as exciting as Christmas itself.

I remember once (I believe I was six) getting out of bed and going to the living room late one Christmas Eve for a drink of water or some such pretense and nearly catching Santa at work. I think Mom and Dad must have barely avoided heart failure. I was admonished that if Santa saw a little boy sneaking around the living room at night, he might decide not to stop.

Of course the morning was certainly special, too. When we first moved west of Bonne Terre, where we would stay for some 30 years, we moved in an old circa 1950 mobile home. Years later I would wonder how the four of us (My older brother was still home then.) lived in the cramped "Old Trailer," as we called it from the time we moved in the "New Trailer" a couple of years later. The New Trailer was gradually built onto until it was more or less hidden behind porches and decks and a basement. My earliest Christmas memories are from the Old Trailer. I recall running into the living room in my pajamas and finding a pedal tractor and numerous other items in he floor. I had to have been 4 or 5 that Christmas. Of course the first Christmas in the New Trailer -- which had to have been the year I nearly caught Santa red-handed -- was special, too. This is the one pictured, with GI Joe's, a GI Joe jeep and other goodies, such as The Green Ghost Game.

Christmas 1975 was a neat one also. That was one of my few -- maybe only -- truly "White Christmas." We had to have gotten well over a foot of snow. I was into baseball memorabilia big time by then (seventh grade). I got several Sporting News baseball guidebooks, among other things. I also got my trusty old Underwood 319 manual typewriter, which I still have. A program for learning to type in 24 sittings was also included. I lacked the patience/maturity to work through it that winter, but would complete the program a year later. (I will not give the name of the typing program, since an endorsement from ME would probably lead to a libel suit against by the manufacturer!) I will never forget Mom and I slogging up the quarter of a mile to Grandma's house in nearly knee-deep snow, a few favorite presents in hand to savor while we were there.

As one grows up -- especially if one does not have children -- some of the magic wears off. Fortunately, by the time it began to, I knew the real reason for Christmas. The increasing commercialization of Christmas and the growing demand to move away from "Christmas" to a more politically correct "holiday season" have made it easier to lose track of the birth of Christ as the reason for the whole spectacle.

Like many bachelors, I don't usually decorate for Christmas. (Christmas lights getting buried under piles of dirty or clean clothes can constitute a fire hazard!) One tradition I have maintained for many years, though, is to watch A Christmas Carol on Christmas Eve. I enjoy all versions of the classic, but on Dec. 24 I have to watch the 1951 Allastar Simm version. This is definitely the best I have seen. It never fails to leave me deeply touched -- not just by the story itself, but as a writer of fiction myself.

To think of Charles Dickens sitting down with quill pen and parchment, seeking and (obviously) getting divine inspiration, then getting up (after several settings, no doubt) later and holding A Christmas Carol in his hand, is staggering. And to think that on other occasions he completed his work and had A Tale of Two Cities and many other classics to share with the world. It always reaffirms what the Lord can and will do through a willing individual.

Since I've already begun "oppressing" pastors, I intend to crack the whip and see if we can't get the pastors' column going again. I greatly appreciate John Kiehl, Drew Dietz and Grant Gilliard for keeping it going this year. I recently assigned Jackson High School student leaders weeks in which to have their columns ready. Other than the week shortened by Thanksgiving, the teens have not missed a deadline. This inspires me to believe that our local men and women of the cloth can likewise be counted on to produce on a deadline. I would love to see a large number of area ministers take part in this column.

We are still accepting fiction and poetry, by the way. Historic photos are also very welcome. As we have said, these do not have to be 90 or 100 years old to be of interest. I hope readers are also reading Noreen Nesbit-Krakenberger's ongoing book, Jeffrey: A Child's Holocaust. While it creates a large (and possibly intimidating) chunk of type on a newspaper page, the story is a poignant and touching one. Every parent should read it.

I don't know who was more surprised Tuesday when I covered the Chaffee High School FBLA offer installation service. (I also edit the Scott County weekly.) JHS' own Josh Pfefferkorn, the state FBLA president, was one of the two keynote speakers. During his talk, Josh quoted from one of my earlier USA Signal columns about local youth. As surprised (and flattered) as I was to find myself quoted in the talk, I think Josh was more surprised to find me snapping his picture while he quoted me to the Chaffee listeners.

I've certainly seen nothing to diminish my views of local teens during the ensuing months. JHS students have been busy with a flurry of activities -- many of which directly aid or honor others, such as the Student Council/National Honor Society senior citizens' dinner. As I have said before, we are very fortunate to have some fine young citizens in our community. With the new century and millennium coming up, that is definitely a comforting thought.