An Epiphany

Christmastide flowed gently here on the Cutoff, and we now find ourselves at Epiphany. I’m sure the three “wiseguys” would not have travelled through so many feet of snow and double digit, negative, temperatures to bring their honorable gifts. I started this post nearly a week ago, and here I am, revising it yet again before it goes out on the virtual waves of blogdom.

Our Christmastide activities were somewhat restricted as Tom recovered from surgery, however, we were gifted with more time to enjoy our decorations, holiday music,  movies and the gentle solitude for much of the season.

Personally, I have had more time to read mid-afternoon, teacup in hand, a Christmas cookie swiftly disintegrating into crumbs down my sweater. Somehow, the trappings about me seemed softer, my angel collection sweeter, and the smallest moments crisper.

I had time to peruse my collection of Christmas books at a more leisurely length, enjoying lush volumes with holiday decorations and traditions, reading the treasures of children’s books accrued, and revisiting longtime favorites, such as “One Christmas”, Truman Capote’s memoirs of a childhood Christmas and Philip Van Doren Stern’s “The Greatest Gift”, upon which my favorite movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life”,  was based.  If you haven’t discovered either of these gems, you must put them wherever all good book lists go, perhaps in abeyance for next December.

M. C. Beaton kept me entertained, as only she can, with a light Hamish MacBeth Christmas mystery, “A Highland Christmas”,  and I managed to rip through Alan Bennett’s delicious novella, “The Uncommon Reader”, which was a Christmas gift. Have you read this charming and funny story about how the Queen upsets the well-ordered royal apple cart when she starts spending all her time reading? Not known for literary pursuits, her staff, the prime minister, and the Bishop of Canterbury don’t know what to make of her and measures are, um, taken.

I’ve also enjoyed Bess Streeter Aldrich’s collection of short stories, “Journey Into Christmas”, which I first discovered through Nan’s blog, Letters from a Hill Farm. You can find her post about it here. Do wander around her blog where she writes about books, poetry, life on their farm, and often posts the best recipes.

“Journey Into Christmas” was a present one Christmas. I enjoyed some of the stories then, but this year I delved deeper into this collection of homespun stories of simpler times and the soul of Christmas. I was so moved by one of Bess Aldrich’s stories about a family’s hard times at Christmas on the prairie and how the characters made “the best of it” that off to the library I went on New Year’s Eve day to check out her novel, “A Lantern in her Hand”. I ended up returning home with four of Aldrich’s books, which include two volumes of her short stories and essays.

The novel, “A Lantern in her Hand” is based on Aldrich’s own family stories of homesteading on the Nebraska prairie. It brings to mind the Little House books, which you know how much I love. As I sit here, finishing up a post that has taken a pilgrimage of time to publish, I am warm and safe in our home amid this deep freeze we, and much of the United States, are in. Our shelves and freezer are full. We have any number of ways of communication at our fingertips, one of which I am employing right now. These are factual stories of a time that seems simpler, but, of course, really were not. I can only imagine the loneliness that must have hung over so many during the devastating winters of the early 1870’s, and truly admire the determination and pure grit that came to be known as the pioneering spirit.

I’ve not minded this gentle flowing Christmastide, with my Tom and my books and my comfort. I’ll hang on to it for a few more days.

Have you read any stories by Bess Streeter Aldrich?

Do you have a favorite or new Christmastide read?

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Christmas reading

Our book group instituted a book exchange a few years ago. Everyone brings a book, new or used, best seller or classic, wrapped or bagged. We play a little game and everyone wins a new book. Most years, we play a variation of “The Night Before Christmas”. The poem is read and the books are passed in a uniform fashion, to the right when the is read, to left when a body part is read. Hooves are considered body parts (. . . the prancing and pawing of each little hoof). It is fun. We sometimes get a little silly and by now we all know most of the words to “The Night Before Christmas” by heart. Actually, I cannot remember not knowing it. It is fun as we pass books left, then right, then right again and we take turns getting confused and laughing all the way, h0, ho, ho. Sorry. I get carried away this time of year as my inner child overcomes me.  We all open our books and ask each other what we got and there are trades for those who end up with their own book, someone always does, and, well, you get the idea.

Recently, we decided to have our Christmas discussion a little earlier. There are appetizers and the hostess makes a dinner and we sit and talk and enjoy each other’s company, catching up on children and grandchildren and life’s ups and downs. We eat, and laugh and even find time to discuss the month’s selection.

For December, we have a tradition of picking a Christmas book, a light read for a busy month.  This month was Agatha Christie’s Hercules Poirot’s Christmas. Not really a Christmas read, it is still a good mystery. We actually spent a few moments discussing it last night before veering off course, once again. It is like that at times and no problem for our group, especially at Christmas.

We also got to see Roz’s display of decorated trees and admired her beautiful tablescape before finishing the evening off with desert.

I was thinking about our gathering as I headed home; snow softly falling, the last chapters of my audiobook playing, the warm, rich feeling of an evening well-spent engulfing me like the gaily wrapped books a few hours before, and I tried to recall some of the Christmas/holiday books we have read over the years. Truman Capote’s One Christmas always comes to mind. Really a short story, it is a simple memoir of Capote’s childhood Christmas, quite unlike most childhoods, or his other books. John Grishanm’s Skipping Christmas, which had us all laughing even if it wasn’t a Pulitzer prize, to name another. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson always gets me to giggling as I remember the three wise guys bringing the Christmas ham to Mary.

Of course, there is Dickens, who, it is said, that upon publishing A Christmas Carol, in serial form as its debut, the modern celebration, unlike the spiritual, was born.

I have a box of Christmas books, some old with barely a spine to hold them together, others more contemporary or nostalgic to read with a cup of hot chocolate and a gingerbread cookie and I hope to dig into them later today. They call to me this time of year. They call to me as much as the lights and the candles, the cookies and food.

How about you? What are your favorite reads this time of year?

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