A Christmas Wish

Christmas is upon us. Glory to God in the highest. Peace on Earth is my Christmas wish to everyone, regardless of their religion. Over the past two weeks I have traveled halfway around the world and back and have seen frantic shoppers everywhere trying to make last minute preparations for their family celebrations. As the hours fly by, it's easy to forget the significance of this holiday. The birth of Christianity. The Son of God, delivered to us. I'm not the most religious person on the planet, but the principles that came with Christ's birth apply to everyone in everyday life, not just at Christmas. If we learn to respect one another, to accept each other with all of our faults and differences, then peace on Earth is possible. During this holiday season, take a moment to tell everyone you know how much they mean to you, and enjoy the blessings that have been sent your way. I speak for all of us on the Musings staff when I say, have a very Merry Christmas.

'Twas the Week Before Christmas

By Captain Mark W. Danielson (FedEx)

’Twas the week before Christmas and all through the hub,
the sorters were sorting, not one single flub.
They stuffed boxes in demis, all loaded with care,
in hopes that their pilots would soon fly them there.
The presents were nestled all snug in their cases,
while loaders slid them to all the right places.
Then my first officer walked with me to his side,
climbed the stairs to prepare for a long winter flight.
When out on the ramp I heard such a clatter,
I sprang from my seat to see what’s the matter.
Away to the door I flew like a flash,
looked out just in time to see the near crash.
The moon on the breast of new-fallen snow,
gave the luster of mid-day to the objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
a pilot from management not wearing flight gear.
With little old eyes, so nervous and quick,
I knew in a moment someone must have been sick.
More rapid than eagles, more pilots came.
But not enough pilots, he called us by name.
Now Dusty, now Scooter, now Gator and Oddie!
On Blazer, on Bear, on Trapper, and Hoggie!
To the top of your stairs, to the flight decks you all,
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
Regardless of obstacles, we took to the sky.
From snow-covered runways, those cargo planes flew,
with cabins full of toys, and St Nicholas, too.
And then with a twinkling, my wheels soon touched down.
A few more minutes and we’ll be on the ground.
Soon a flurry of loaders converged on the plane.
And fuelers and mechanics all doing the same.
While bundles of toys rode their way down,
several safety observers all stood around.
Workers’ cheeks were like roses,
their noses like cherries.
Many in Santa hats, nearly all seemed quite merry.
Some beards were all white and covered in snow,
but no one complained, only hours to go.
One had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when she laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
She was chubby and plump, a right jolly old gal,
I smiled when I saw her, in spite of myself.
A wink of her eye and a twist of her hand,
her bus door opened, I had nothing to dread.
She spoke not a word, but took us straight to the door.
As soon as we’re off, she went back to get more.
In three hours we were back in our seats,
the process done over, we’re not done with our feat.
Hundreds of planes soon took to the air,
all sure to deliver their boxes with care.
Through our smart phones, the chief pilot said,
another sort down, now go find your beds.

Merry Christmas from all who deliver your presents.

'Twas the Night Before . . .

'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the barn,
Old Mac was a-jokin' and spinnin' a yarn.
With his feet propped up
and his arms spread wide,
He was tellin' the ranch kids
of old Santa's ride.
But it wasn't Rudolph a-leadin' the pack,
A string of wild horses was bringin' him back.

Over ranches and hay fields
Santa did fly,
Carrying toys and gifts across the night sky.
"On Dobbin, on Stewball, on Seattle Sue,
Go Rampage, go Racer, go Hullabaloo.
The children are a-waitin'," Santa did cry.
"You hay burners are stuck in one gait,
by the by.

Lift up those hooves and shift into high,
Or mornin' will find us a hundred homes shy."
"Grandpa, you're silly," a small voice did say,
"It's the reindeer that pull Santa Claus's sleigh."
"Now youngun' you know your grandpa don't lie."
"But everyone knows that horses can't fly.
Pigs and eagles and reindeer can too,
but horses are muley and made out of glue."

"Don't ever let Santa hear you say that.
He'll be here soon a-wearin' his hat
and swingin' his bag he'll climb on the roof,
But he'll not leave you nuthin' if you don't have proof,
that his reindeer ain't hosses a-wearin' a rack
of antlers he carved from brickity brack.
Off to bed with you now before it's too late,
For Santa loves children who think grandpas are great."

Merry Christmas, everyone!


~Jean Henry Mead