Ah, December, time for a few Christmas stories
By Anthony Buccino
Holiday Tales, sort of ...
Her classroom makes 'season's greetings' cards pale by comparison. She has a Christmas scene painting nine feet wide and four feet tall that one of 'her kids' made.
The coal miners' kids were appreciative to get an orange for Christmas. When the Salvation Army showed up with a basket of food, that was the miracle of Christmas.
Home, Sweet, Home
Through the years, we’ve untangled strands of lights on dismal bushes, shown spotlights on our wreath, set out twisted twigs in the shape of reindeer and a glittering, lighted, two-piece Santa that kept losing his head in strong winds.
In the cold attic they wait. The heat of summer long gone, the chill of December wheezing through eave vents, we pull down drop-stairs and peer into the darkness above.
No tinsel or ribbons, No surprise boxes in the morning, Nothing to unwrap, No squeals of joy at good giving. The boxes of food arrive From the can drive at the local school and somebody asks what they'll do with all those cans if they're homeless.
The “season to be jolly” always manages to age me 60 years. For me, it’s a solid look into a vast void. Where is the joy that once was?
Essays, photography, military history, more
New Jersey author Anthony Buccino's stories of the 1960s, transit coverage and other writings earned four Society of Professional Journalists Excellence in Journalism awards.
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