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Pigging Out On New Year's Eve !

     Pigs! Pigs! Pigs! I kept finding then everywhere while doing a little research on Victorian New Year's cards. There would be a chubby child with a pig on a leash watching a clock as the hands near midnight. A virginal young lady with ruddy cheeks would be on a swing, one foot dangling daintily, and on the ground two smiling pigs. 
    We don't often think of pigs as cute or adorable and many of our pig-images are not flattering:eating like a pig, pig sty and so on. There are also  dietary laws regarding eating pork in Judaism and Islam. But in Germany ,many years ago, the pig was a good luck charm and  were often found in cakes, cookies, and candies. England, Belgium, and other countries thought pigs brought good luck too and included their pork presence on birthday cards as well. In ancient times, I learned, pigs were thought of as fertility symbols as they could produce several litters a year and they are hardy creatures. 
    This is all very appropriate as 2007 is the Year Of The Pig! If someone you know is having a baby in 2007, tell them those born in a Pig Year are strong, chivalrous, and gallant. They are quiet, studious, and loyal and can never be accused of being a "boor."  I think I will make a New Year's resolution to eat less pork this year!  This doesn't mean much--my resolutions hardly make it past Epiphany.   
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How Cold Was It ?

     "An open winter means a full cemetery,"  the old-timers used to say. This meant, of course, that an open winter with little snow and cold brought lots of sickness. Last winter was mild and this coming winter seems to be headed the same way. Should I subscribe to the Gore gospel. I don't think so. To me, weather goes in cycles. Two mild winters give way to a few hard winters. Those ancient winter weather predictors probably don't mean much. Remember the tale of the wooly worm and its brown stripe? The wider the brown band, the milder the winter and it's a cold winter if the worm moves slowly. What if it's just a lazy worm?  If the new moon comes close to Christmas, that means a cold winter. This year it's December 20, so, look out!  Hornets, supposedly, build their nests low before a cold winter and high before a mild winter. I've heard that one reversed. At the vets, the other day, I noticed six wasp  nests built in one corner of the second story. Do they know something hornets don't? Wasps are very smart. One spring, wasps built a nest very low near the foundation of my house. I noticed two blades of grass growing taller, soon to block the entrance to the nest. How would they solve this problem? A few weeks later, they had put a "turn" on the entrance, making it face away from the troublesome grass. I decided not to cut the offending grass because they had solved a problem and to the young wasps, it was a learning experience. Besides, wasps have self-esteem too. 
  When I was a kid, I heard an old guy say that the snowbanks were so high, the snow fleas were wearing parachutes. Then there was the story about the old Indian who accurately predicted Maine winters for over fifty years. No one knew how he did it. Finally, on his deathbed, his relatives gathered around hoping he would leave them his great secret. "How do you predict winter weather?" a brave brave asked. The ancient man raised himself to his elbows and, in a soft voice, said, " I go by the size of the white man's woodpile."  I guess that's as good an indicator as any.
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Pearl Harbor

Where are the heroes of today? The young man wants to know.
They are here, I say, looking for fame and their own TV show.
Then I remember that down the lane and across the street
Is an old nursing home where the heroes' heart beats.
Some where there when the enemy came from a soft Sunday sky
Spewing their bloody destruction, thinking we couldn't reply.
It was December  7,1941 when the sons of the rising sun
Started a war they should never have begun.
Losses were terrible and over 2,000 men would never return
It taught us a lesson we should never have to relearn.
We were down for the count, our spirits bleak, the color of clay.
But six months later they had to say "Uncle" at a place called Midway.
Uncle Sam would fight other battles until the enemy chocked in his dust
While we paid homage to freedom and prayed, "In God We Trust."
I now remember we have a new generation of heroes true
Who are proud to fight for their colors:Red, White, and Blue.
While politicians cringe, quake, and look for any way out,
They put our "leaders" to shame with their cowardly doubt.
The Spirit of Pearl Harbor is with us today.
We can never forget the price some had to pay.
So, we remember Pearl Harbor. How can we forget?
Those who served and now serve we are forever in debt.
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A Mother Like No Other

Britney Spears is in the news again
And once more taking it on the chinny chin chin.
She's left her husband who was a bird.
Cupid called him silly and very absurd.
But Britney is loyal, loving, and true,
Of drinking and partying, she is long overdue.
So, she leaves her kids 24-hours-a-day.
Mothers staying at home is such cliche.
When she is at home, she plays kid games
Reads them stories and motherhood proclaims. 
But it is sad, when she's out sipping a brew,
She continues the game of peek-a-boo!


You are invited to check out my cartoon site at
http://thescribblerspen.blogspot.com
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Touching The Ghost Of Christmas Past

 Occasionally , I do oral presentations before library, museum, and retirement groups. My program includes selections from the works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Robert Frost, and at this time of the year--A Victorian Christmas. I highlight the years of Queen Victoria's rule and do readings that were popular in her day. I also throw in a few other Christmas poems and stories that the audience will remember from a later period. They nod approvingly at the readings of Charles Dickens and John Greenleaf Whittier. Many are startled when I give them that old sentimental favorite, The Little Match Girl. Most have not heard that since they were children fifty or more years ago. At my reading last night, at a retirement home,  I was surprised at the number who had grown up in other parts of the country. I talked to a lady from Virginia, a couple from Texas, and a retired gentleman from California. Their eyes held a misty joy when they thanked me. I knew it wasn't my presence or delivery or voice that had moved them. I was conjuring up the ghost of a Christmas remembered from long ago. It might have been a bleak Christmas from the Depression or one spent in a foxhole during World War II. But for a few moments the loved ones who had made Christmas possible those many years ago were with them . The feelings, the spirit of what Christmas was and is, rang as true and clear as a church bell on a frosty Sunday morning. But morning was over and it was now eventide and they remembered and their expressions spoke of the eternal truth of what Christmas is all about. Were their Christmases truer, better than ours? I doubt it. But Christmas for all generations, for all times ,will always convey the same unique message of love and peace and hope. If it didn't, it wouldn't be Christmas. So, as Tiny Tim would say, "God bless us everyone!"
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