Author: JD Pendry

If it was a tall day, I could stretch myself all the way up to four feet. Big Rita had me by a head, maybe two. Hers was a big head too almost troll like in stature. Being cornbread fed, she easily had me by 30 pounds. Big Rita did not like me. On reflection, she did not like anyone.

If I have learned one thing in all the years I have been writing these posts it is that the mere mention of God is the best generator of keyboard borne venom. Last week, I wrote that our country’s founding principle is God-given freedom. In 2010, I posted Our Foundation is the Spirit of Freedom. It was my first post after a year long hiatus. So, it is not a new thought to me (or to history), but one I certainly hold to dearly.

I was questioned about where in our constitution is any reference to God or Jesus or any specific religion. The answer is in specific terms nowhere. With a rudimentary understanding of Judeo-Christian values and phrases like “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights” and given the religious inclinations of the American populace at the time the phrase was penned, it is not a great leap of logic to conclude to which Creator the reference was made. I was asked whether I thought my rights came from God or some question similar to that and the answer is profoundly yes. Our Declaration of Independence is quiet clear on the origin of those unalienable rights among which are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. With that declaration in mind, those unalienable rights are protected in our Constitution and the Bill of Rights. So, where is God in our Constitution? He is all over it brother.

And another, the one that forever flies off the keyboard. If your God is so great, where was he when…” and just fill in whatever atrocity comes to mind. The answer to that (although the question itself exposes the questioner’s ignorance of Christianity and the Christian God) is that God lets people choose their way. God wants you to accept him by your own free will. If by your free will you choose another path he will turn you over to it as is well explained in Romans 1: 18-32. So let’s not blame God for the choices made by men. Then there is the Darwin worshipper who declares that belief in God is just an example of scientific ignorance. Might I ask? Is this the same science that declares man-made global warming is destroying the planet and the solution to that problem is a global wealth redistribution scheme?

The left (communists, Marxists, socialists, progressives, liberals…) mostly rejects Judeo-Christian values out of hand. Sure, there are those who lean left in their ideology who are Church goers and proclaimed Christians, but they have embraced things simply are not Biblical. The right (wholly evil in the minds of many on the left) certainly has its share of people who are as anti-Christian as anyone on the left could ever hope to be. What both have in common is the rejection of a higher moral authority – a rejection of God and his commandments.

Without a moral authority, who decides what is good or bad. Who would decide for people that it is wrong to murder – or for that matter, to do anything else? Moral relativism, for as destructive as it is we see it every single day. When an ultimate moral authority is rejected so is civil society and so is freedom.

I just heard presidential candidate Hillary Clinton, in a speech, declare that in our country we are going to have to modify deeply held religious beliefs adding that no one should be discriminated against because of who they love (with the exception of those having deeply held religious beliefs). I certainly agree with the part about not discriminating. Choosing your path in life whatever it is should not require that anyone else embrace it. In that light, Mrs. Clinton I refer you to the first commandment: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. While doing that, and in light of the most recent revelations you may want to contemplate the remaining 9 as well. I recommend Dennis Prager’s short book, The Ten Commandments: Still the Best Moral Code.

In our military, we are also seeing people persecuted because of their Christian beliefs. The worst of which, Chaplains are being disciplined for counseling from a Biblical perspective or praying in the name of Jesus. From what other perspective would one expect a Christian Chaplain to counsel or pray? History is quite clear about what Godless armies are capable of and their ultimate destruction.

It is also quite clear on the destiny of Godless nations. History is littered with their remains.

© 2015 J. D. Pendry American Journal All Rights Reserved

My intention today was to tell you about me and big Rita. But, slowly returning from a life imposed exile there are other things on my mind. So in the interest of keeping this short, I will cut to the end. Big Rita changed her evil ways. Some other day, I may fill in the blanks.

Recently, I bought a set of biographies called Heroes of History written by Janet and Geoff Benge. I am passing them on to my granddaughters in hopes they will learn about people important to the development of our country and grow to embrace this most exceptional nation. After I read each one, I write a note in it and mail it to them.

In the George Washington biography, it noted as the British surrendered at Yorktown the band played an old nursery tune, The World Turned Upside Down.

If buttercups buzzed after the bee,
If boats were on land,
Churches on sea,
If ponies rode men,
And if grass ate the corn,
And if cats should be chased
Into holes by the mouse,
If the mammas sold their babies
To the Gypsies for half a crown,
If summer were spring,
And the other way ’round,
Then all the world would be upside down.

When the superpower of the day surrendered to the world’s newest country, I suppose the world to them did appear a little upside down.

I live in a country where at its very beginning it was accepted that freedom is God given. It was that rag tag Army of citizen Soldiers that stood, fought and died to secure that freedom and to remain the guardian of it. As an American, I have never doubted that freedom is my birthright. But, if freedom is indeed God given is it not a universal birthright? Should not all people enjoy freedom? The answer of course is that they should. In the history of humankind, there is only one nation founded on that precept and I am blessed to live in it. At the outset, our founders “appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions…” and…”with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence” declared and set our country’s foundation. America is exceptional because it is unique among nations of the world in its guarantee of individual liberty.

Even with this in mind, I am saddened. Our nation sits beneath the glow of Lady Liberty’s torch. Our capitol city is filled with monuments honoring many of the heroes of history who gave us this great country and to the warriors who fought and died to preserve our universal birthright.

America has always been about love of God, love of family, and love of liberty and has been willing to defend that love wherever in the world it is threatened – until now. Somewhere along the way we got off track. Freedom derailed, its foundation shaken by people who do not acknowledge American Exceptionalism. As Americans, we are allowing ourselves to be led away from our foundation of individual liberty. All so gradually over the years, but now running at a torrid pace toward a destination where God is abandoned and the freedom he gave us forfeited. Yes forfeited. Man did not give us freedom and man cannot take it away. Freedom can only be forfeited.

More saddening is the lack of urgency in Americans and Washington’s politicians to put us back on track. Everything is viewed in political cycles as in this one will pass too. Well it will not pass and even if it does what will be left to my granddaughters and to your grandchildren will be nothing like the United States of America that we knew. Ronald Regan warned us that America is freedom’s last stand and there does not appear to be many Washington defenders of it.

The leader of our exceptional nation has declared, in his mind at least, that we are no more exceptional than any other nation. He has declared that we are not a Christian nation although a nation clearly founded on Judeo-Christian values whose national motto is In God We Trust. He refuses to acknowledge the Islamists or the Christians they are murdering across the Middle East and Africa. Instead, he talks about the Crusades from 700 years ago implying that we did as badly. Following his logic, what should we be doing now? He declares himself a Christian while mocking Bible scriptures, supporting abortions even to the point of allowing babies who survive abortion attempts to die and embracing homosexual marriage.

Our president is growing bolder in his last years as the nation’s leader. I am no political prognosticator, but I am betting he will eventually jump the shark to the point that even MSNBC will not be able to defend his actions. There is less effort to mask his true persona or what his vision of a fundamental transformation truly is. He demonstrated boldly for anyone who was paying attention what he intends to leave as his legacy. When he embraced Raul Castro, an oppressive murdering Communist dictator, while declaring that he doesn’t know about all of that stuff that happened before he was born his vision for America became crystal clear. Here is a hint. It is not the post-racial, post-political, red, white and blue America he promised. And Mr. President, just for the record, history did not begin with your birth.

So now, the world is officially upside down. American will right herself only when Washington’s politicians are forced to remember their roles.

©Copyright 2015 J. D. Pendry American Journal All Rights Reserved

Sitting here watching the wind whip the snow around outside the dining room window. We are fortunate this year. The heavy snows have passed north and east of us. It is though, colder out than a well-digger’s back side. In its present state, my fireplace is not much help. It’s been rendered to a large grayish white block of mortar. It blends well with the wind swept snow and the single digit temperature. The new facing brick to be installed next week.

I can see the snow because the Secretary of War directed me to remove the drapes. And I did it. With the painter working, it is the logical time to take down the curtains and carry them to the cleaners. Oh, geeze I am sorry. I meant to say custom window treatments from Sonni’s House of Drapes. Makes me long for the days in the trailer park in Newport News, Virginia when a bed sheet got the job done until we could afford a pack of curtains. We did not mind it much. When we left there on our second Army move, everything we owned fit into one box. When I look at Adolph’s revenge standing smugly against the wall, I consider that we have traveled quite a distance from there seeking the American dream. Too many moves and too much busted furniture to contemplate.

Did you hear? Under the president’s executive amnesty decree illegal immigrants may be able to claim up to four years of tax credits? As much as 24 thousand dollars. Looking at my social security records, I believe my first year’s wages as a working American was three-thousand dollars. I worked hard for it. Is this the fundamentally transformed American dream?

The brick mason who is renovating my fireplace, learned his trade from his father. He is a hardworking man. Typically has a helper or two with him. He told me he went off to the Navy for four years and then came back and started school. He had no intention of being a brick mason like dad. But, here he is. A craftsman. A trade well learned. He tells you what it is going to cost and when it will be complete. Then delivers. From experience, I trust his work. I am happy to be along his path to achieving the American dream. Independent craftsmen like him are becoming rare in our society. They are the people who built this nation one brick at a time. I wonder how unskilled underpaid labor will impact how they earn their money.

The painter is as interesting. He is the Pastor of small church. From a congregation of around fifty, he does not earn Joel Osteen level money. The other difference is that he’s an actual preacher and not the prophet of abundance. To augment his meager Pastor’s salary, he paints houses and mows lawns while also fulfilling his pastoral responsibilities.

I am very particular about anyone I hire to work at Pendry manor. The brick mason was recommended to me by another craftsman who did work for me. People such as him do not recommend hacks because their own reputation is on the line. The brick mason recommended the painter. These men are independent contractors. They do not belong to any company or union. The quality of work they produce is what keeps them working.

The American dream. We have been told the playing field must be leveled so everyone has an equal chance achieving it. Government wants to provide the path to the dream. Does not everyone have an equal chance now? The freedom to choose a path? Is government going to redistribute the dream? Take some of the brick mason’s or pastor’s dream and dole it out to illegal immigrants?

Yes dear, turning of the computer now. Headed for the dry cleaner.

© 2015 J. D. Pendry American Journal

When Suzie-Q gets that look in her eye, no not that one, and carries it with her throughout the house my gut instinct tells me to run for the hills. And to not come back for at least a month. My instincts were confirmed when, after her walk about, the conversation began in silky tones with “Yobo don’t you think….” By then, it was way too late to jump in the truck and peel rubber.

Now this old house is about to undergo phase 15 or so of the fundamental transformation. All of us know the pain associated with fundamental transformations. Similar to a transformation we all know about, this one began with one way conversation. The fireplace is ugly. You have to clean it up. We need to paint – everything. We have to change the carpet – in every room even in the mostly never used rooms. We must rearrange the furniture and get rid of some of it. There is so much stuff in the living room it looks like your garage. The one you have never cleaned. “Can I go fishing?” That warrants a different look and it is not the dreamy one. More like simmering rage. Men you are clear about that look?

Unlike the transformation we all know about, Household 6 and I engaged in serious debate about what the desired result was and how we could achieve it. Cleaning the fireplace will only produce a fireplace that is clean, but still ugly. I know a brick mason who would love to reface it and replace the mantle. OK. I know a reliable painter, and it is not me. No more one room a week of moving furniture, spackling holes, masking, and getting paint speckles all over the floor. OK. New carpet? No. We want hardwood. Wood? Yes wood. Well OK.

That is the condensed version of the debates. I left out the painful parts. The silent moments and the smoldering hair moments, but the facts of the matter are that we sat down. She did allow me to sit part of the time. Together we arrived at a solution with which we were both happy. Her vision along with my input and the deal was sealed. Just the way a household (or a representative government) should function. We managed to create some jobs too. A brick mason and his helper. The brickyard from where he acquires the materials. A painter and his helper. The store from where he will buy his materials. The flooring crew and the place from where they will purchase materials.

I was standing there being proud of how well this all worked out. Just like a household (or a free market representative republic) should work. Right in the middle of patting myself on the back, I heard a lingering question, “What about the furniture?” We have to get rid of some things. Things that we do not need or use that are just clutter. Stuff holding the house back from what it could really be. When Suzie-Q starts talking about clutter, she is clearly looking at my stuff. You know stuff. Stuff I need.

Both of us have collections of stuff gathered over 42 years of blissful marriage. Much of it collected during our three tours of duty in Germany defending the Fulda Gap from the Russian horde. She has red bird crystal and little crystal do-dads and Hummels squeezed into every crack and crevice. Living so long in the beer capital of the world, I have quite a collection of beer glasses, beer mugs, beer steins, and beer coasters. All of mine relegated to a cabinet we have had for 40 years that sits in the basement TV room.

And we have Adolph’s revenge. For many of you who during your lifetime or military service may have traveled to Germany, you know what I am talking about. It is that humongous piece of furniture that you just had to have. Everybody had one. Could not get along without it and if archeologists dig it up a thousand years from now they will be convinced they have finally found Noah’s Ark. Sort of reminds me of one of those federal agencies. It has been around for so long and been so burdensome that we forget why we needed it in the first place and definitely regretted ever getting it. Now we are not quite sure what to do with it or what its original purpose was.

The beer mug cabinet got the boot. Good bye old friend.

I felt like doing it with a chain saw, but instead I had to disassemble Adolf’s revenge the traditional way – purposefully and methodically one piece at a time. We fundamentally transformed it into smaller manageable and more functional pieces. Washington, if you need some advice on how to manage things like that let us (the people) know. I can bring the chain saw. And maybe a brick mason. Suzie-Q and me, we can fix it. Fundamentally restore it. Make it work.

© 2015 J. D. Pendry American Journal

My compulsory Christmas and New Year break is over. The cranial hard drive somewhat refreshed. The joy of ringing in a New Year has already faded a little. The world’s problems seem to intensify rather than improve leaving most of us left to wonder what to do about it.

Suzie-Q and I have our own set of resolutions. Like most, we looked into the mirror and noticed some changes in our physical stature. Parts of us that should not be were sticking out some. Hair is growing out of places where it should not be growing and thinning in spots where should be profuse. Tank tops and hot pants are long gone from the wardrobe. We decided to tackle that problem head long this year. We started out by going to our favorite sub place, no not that one, and having cheese steaks with all the trimmings and a bucket of French fries. We are now ready to fulfill our New Year’s resolution or as my bride expresses it with her best Asian accent, our New Solution. Ours is quite simple. We agreed that we cannot fix yesterday and we cannot predict tomorrow realizing, as we were taught, that tomorrow has enough of its own problems. Our resolution is to try and get it right today. If we can do that, yesterday will not need fixing and tomorrow will take care of itself.

During my time of contemplation and self-chats, I often listen to music. My favorite album for thinking is Lifescapes. It is a Beethoven collection over a background of nature sounds. It soothes the old brain. I know, sort of an odd selection for a hillbilly. I do not believe Beethoven had a banjo. Moonlight Sonata on a banjo. Something to ponder. Well today, I listened to some of my digitized Joe Cocker, rest his soul. I understand that is quite a swing in musical tastes, but I liked Joe Cocker back in the day and when it comes to music, most of us do remain mentally in those impressionable times. It is a comfortable place to hang out. No, I am not as old as Beethoven, but Beethoven is timeless.

I do not know what my taste in music or a meaningless resolution has to do with the place in which I find myself today, but I fear trouble ahead in the New Year. I am not alone here. America shares with me these troubled times. But as Joe sang in the Beatles remake, I will get by with a little help from my friends.

Joe also asked in that song, “If I sang out of tune, would you get up and walk out on me?” America is singing a little out of tune these days. Somewhere in the middle of the Star Spangled Banner, she forgot the lyrics. Many have mentally walked out on her. Some of those walk outs purposeful others simply a product of apathy. The most influential among us, wholly ignorant many of them, disdain her past greatness and place the world’s problems on her broad shoulders. The least informed do not know much of the glory days. In a land of abundance the gifts she offers are too often taken for granted. Are we to place Lady Liberty into the box with the other vinyl records and shove her back into the corner of a dusty storage room? The dust bin of history they call it. The place where once great nations go to be forgotten or remembered for the reasons they are no longer. Are we to walk out on an America that has been given bad sheet music and a string of incompetent directors, or are we to renew her and perform the magnificent original score?

“Living in the promiseland our dreams are made of steel the prayer of every man is to know how freedom feels there is a winding road across the shifting sand and room for everyone living in the promiseland” – Joe Cocker, Living in the Promiseland

I resolve to stand by and defend the greatest land God ever allowed, not walk out on her.

© 2015 J. D. Pendry American Journal

Well Ben, it remains to be seen whether we can or cannot. Or whether what remains now of our once great republic is even worth the effort. Ones time might be more productively spent learning how to disappear from sight. For we have arrived now at a point in time where our nation is not recognizable. Some people believe this is good. Most of them who believe that call Babylon on the Potomac their home.

Great nations have faltered throughout human history. History typically remembers the reasons for their demise more so than the reasons for their lost greatness.

I have tried hard to avoid the political crap that is thrown at us every day and called news. Nothing is news about a gathering of wholly corrupt men and women who work very hard to keep the party in power, their cronies in the government’s purse, securing their own positions of power, and growing wealthy on the salary of a public servant.

Yesterday, a Republican led House of Representatives voted to fully fund the programs they have been running against for the past 6 years. Seventy-four United States Senators supported the constitutionality of executive amnesty. What they really did is tell the American people that our laws are not worth the paper on which they are written. Actually, that is the message sent out to the world. One man, whose position has been known as the leader of the free world, can violate the law of the land without any fear of repercussion. That is a republic lost, our Constitution to find its place among ancient relics. Our national compass governed by wrongheaded ideologies of men rather than laws.

Sadly, history never recalls the great people who built a nation. Rather it recalls those who destroyed it.

When the American people give successive landslide victories to one political party over the other, the mandate should be crystal clear. We the people do not like the direction our country is headed so please take this political majority and govern by the will of the people – the way our “representative” republic is supposed to function. What we got instead was flipped off. Flipped off by a collection of people who do not give a rats hind quarters about the United States of America, Americans, our laws or anything else and most specifically you and me. These are the political elitist bastards who will be remembered for our destruction.

They are the WWF. They are business people. They posture for the cameras. They do some tongue and finger wagging then retire to the back room to share whiskey and cigars while counting the loot taken from a gullible people. Has it not become obvious in recent days that our country’s very own elitist snobs, who get large government contracts, believe we are easily mislead and too stupid to know the difference.

Out in our streets and even in Congress people are saying “hands up don’t shoot.” To hear them they want justice. No, what they really want is a lynching. What the people who are playing on their stupidity (the same elitists who believe all Americans are stupid) desire is radical change in our judicial system – like doing away with the grand jury process. That is the target, but all Americans see are the riots and tee shirts.

Americans decry the plight of their communities and the conditions in their cities and want to blame anyone who is handy. They can even be egged-on into burning down their own neighborhoods. Pushed into it by people who are liars, thieves, and charlatans and who have trusted positions with the highest office in the land. I do not care from which American community you hail. The person most responsible for your plight and that of your community can be found in the mirror.

Ben, we cannot solve the problem until we identify the problem. Our problem is simple. The morality of our nation is swirling down the sewer. The world’s most tolerant nation, I have visited enough of them to accept that statement as unequivocal truth, is committing suicide. In Babylon on the Potomac, there are two types of people. There is the type that fits into the mold of liberal-communist-progressive and the type that truthfully believes in our country and the Constitution they have sworn to protect and defend. Actions speak louder than words and by recent ones it is quite clear that the latter is the minority.

Maybe we can keep it Ben, but like you and your colleagues it will require a revolution. Not one of guns, but a moral and political revolution. Otherwise Sir, the republic you gave us ended this weekend.

© 2014 J. D. Pendry American Journal.

On the way to Church Sunday morning, the first Advent Sunday, I had to make a stop at the mail box so my wife could put her annual bale of Christmas cards into the mail. They are sent far and wide from here.

I am sitting here now looking out the bunker’s only window. I have a terrific view of the porch rail that runs the length of the sidewalk out to the driveway. I am watching rain drip from the Christmas garland I put along that rail on Sunday afternoon when it was sunny. After two days of rain, it is starting to sag a little under the weight of the water. On the bright side, the lights have not shorted out and I do not live in Buffalo. Out in the yard in a place I cannot see from the bunker window is a nativity scene. It is homemade. My brother made it for me. It is cut from a pattern and locks together like a puzzle and each year I have to remember how the puzzle goes together.

Inside, I am allowed to put up the tree and make sure the lights work then I am exiled. I am not good at hanging ornaments. My wife does not understand that these things need to be organized by size and shape and spaced uniformly. After that little chat she tactfully tells me to take my Sergeant Major backside outside and uniformly hang the garland on the porch. I move out smartly.

I love Christmas. Back in the house, it appears my wife took ornaments by the handful and tossed them in the direction of the tree. And it is beautiful.

Last year my wife and I watched Last Ounce of Courage. The story is about a mayor of a small town a war hero himself who lost his only son in the war. He finally stands up against the people who want to remove Christmas from the public square. The story was about standing up for ones rights more than it was about Christmas. A decent story, but it was not a Christmas one. It put me in the mood to fight that war on Christmas we seem to hear about every year, but it did not do much to nudge me into the true Christmas spirit.

This year we watched the Kirk Cameron movie Saving Christmas. It was not about the “war” on Christmas or anything along that line. It was about Christmas. The symbolism explained as was the greatness of the event. I left the theater thinking how dreadful Christmas has become because some of us spend a lot of time angry with people who are at odds with what we believe. So much so that we allow them to choose our attitude for us and cause us to focus more attention on them than we do the reason for the season. Thanks to Mr. Cameron for pointing that out to me and for nudging me into the spirit. I do not intend to allow the negativity to steal the spirit from me this year.

Another thing I cannot figure out is black Friday. That appears to be the important day for many. If only we could muster that amount of enthusiasm toward Christmas day. Black Friday is about greed and self-indulgence. Is it not? What is civilized and good about people stampeding over one another in the middle of the night and then brawling over the last flat screen television.

Christmas is about letting your charitable side surface. It is about taking a turn ringing the bell at the Salvation Army Kettle. It is about when you feel like spending a couple of hundred dollars on a gizmo you probably do not need and instead buying a couple hundred dollars worth of food and donating it to one of your community’s Christmas food basket programs. Truth be known, most of us can afford to do both at least once each year. Or plucking a name from an Angel Tree and buying a coat and a toy for a child that might otherwise have neither. Have you ever made a Christmas jar? That’s when you commit to putting one dollar a day into a jar for the entire year beginning on Christmas Eve. Then when Christmas rolls around, you anonymously give the jar to a person in need or to a cause in need. I assure you it feels better than pulling your best WWF move at Wall Mart to get that last TV.

Merry Christmas. Find the spirit and let no one steer you away from it.

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. – Jeremiah 29:13 NIV

© 2014 J. D. Pendry American Journal

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Luke 2: 8-12 NIV

Sometimes, I pull my wool hat down over my ears and go for a walk. Moving out of the neighborhood, I get the courtesy bark from the neighbor’s dog, a curious examination from a couple of squirrels and am nearly trampled by a rampaging buck in rut. He smells a doe somewhere, he just ain’t too sure about where. He disappeared into the tree line at a full gallop, so excited he probably ran into a tree and knocked himself out. The leaves are gone from the trees. The air is a little crisp, but for a few flurries, we’ve seen no snow. Houses and lawns are decorated for the season, some a bit overdone. Christmas cards are going out and coming in. The new Christmas movies are out. I’ve seen none destined to be classics like It’s A Wonderful Life, which we’ll watch for the bazillionth time. For the next few months, we’ll wonder if the angel got his wings whenever we hear a bell. We worry some about presents. What we might get, what we’ll give. The thought that used to go into them doesn’t always now. Getting something homemade is practically unheard of. Now, we savor the warmth of the plastic gift card we receive and worry if we spent enough money on the gifts we gave.

I can see smoke drifting up lazily from chimneys in the distance and smell the oak wood fires burning in fireplaces and wood stoves. It isn’t there, but my mind tricks me into smelling the spice cake my mother used to bake this time of year. I think about getting a big hunk of it fresh from the oven while it’s still steaming. Nothing tasted quite like that, especially chased with fresh milk or hot chocolate. I walk a little deeper into the woods. Nothing smells quite like the woods this time of year. The dead leaves I kick up while walking have a unique, earthy aroma. A squirrel skitters up the side of a tree right in front of me. He stops, safely out of my reach and watches. I come upon a wild holly bush and stick myself plucking a leaf from it. I make a pinwheel from the stiff holly leaf by putting the sharp points between my thumb and finger and blowing on it just hard enough to make it spin. I think of walking through the hills in the snow with my brother many years ago searching for a Christmas tree. I think about a wild sled run. I find a sturdy oak to lean against, pick a twig from a nearby branch and pluck it between my teeth. I survey the rolling hillside. The houses in the distance are visible only because the trees are naked of leaves. I ponder what might be happening in each. In one, Christmas cookies might be baking. In another, maybe they’re trimming the tree.

In my mind, the house is dark. Daylight’s not yet broken. My heart is beating slightly faster than normal. It’s Christmas morning. I slowly move the blankets away and begin to tiptoe toward the living room where the Christmas tree is. I step on a creaky floorboard and freeze, eyes wide. I listen, afraid that I might encounter an old elf gentleman and frighten him away. I peek into the kitchen and see that the cookies dutifully left on the table are gone. Then, in the dark, eyes still wide, heart still racing, I approach the tree….

I’m walking along the street in Chicago. A country kid in the city. I’ve never seen so many stores and all of them decked out for the holiday. Some have signs that say Xmas. I wonder why they’d do that. The sky is gray. The city is gray. The wind blows some newspaper down a slush-covered sidewalk. A panhandler begs for money. It doesn’t seem like Christmas. Something is missing, replaced by an X.

The air has chilled some so I flip the collar up on my down vest and I’m on the other side of the world walking a Christmas Eve post. I’m barely 19 years old. Sure, I have plenty of buddies around, but I’d trade it all for five minutes in that kitchen eating Mom’s spice cake. Then I think, because a few of us are willing to be here, many can be there at home. That thought perks me up some as I look into a glistening star filled sky and snug up the GI wool scarf around my neck. The clear night makes it colder. I wish it would cloud up and snow. Silent Night plays in my head.

It’s Christmas Eve. It’s nearing the end of the Church service and we light candles, each of us receiving the flame from the last Advent candle – the Christ candle. As the sanctuary lights dim, we raise our candles and sing Silent Night. There’s an incredible feeling of peace and hope.

From Su and I to you and yours. Have a blessed Christmas.

Copyright © 2004 J. D. Pendry American Journal