How to Keep Christmas well in your heart throughout the year

How to Keep Christmas well in your heart throughout
the year

Preface / Introduction

@~~~>The LAST Time I Made This OFFER I was BURIED in calls so I am limiting this to the
NEXT 5 PEOPLE ONLY CALL ME NOW - don't miss out! CALL ME NOW for your FREE
Internet marketing consultation. $100 value. Let an expert show you RIGHT NOW how to profit
online every single day without leaving home. CALL ME -- Liz English -- NOW, (315) 668-1591.
LIVE 24/7/365.

And so I say to you: God bless us everyone and every loving memory of yore. They make us what
we are and remind us, lovingly, of where we have been and the people who have helped us along the
way in so very many ways.
Merry Christmas!

Table of Contents
1. How to keep Christmas well in your heart throughout the year
2. The moans, groans, complaints and pontifications have begun as the Christmas marketing season
of 2011 commences. Which side are you on?
3. On the getting and giving of Christmas presents.

How to Keep Christmas well in your heart throughout the year

How to keep Christmas well in your heart throughout the year
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
"and it was always said of Ebenezer Scrooge, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man
alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim
observed, God bless Us, Every One!"
The words, of course, are from Charles Dickens' masterful "A Christmas Carol" published in 1843, a
present the world gratefully rediscovers each and every year. They remind us that Christmas, to be
Christmas, must be about magic and memories, remembering both those who are with us and
(especially) those who are not.. Christmas this year, as every year, began for me by unpacking my
little electrified tree. It is battered now and bears its many bruises proudly if carefully.
All at once, I give way to memories insistent, vivid, one tumbling over another. The box opens and
recollections of one year of my life after another pour out. First, I remember the day my
grandmother gave me this marvelous present and how she solemnly told me to take good care of it,
as she had done.
I agreed to do so, little knowing the significance or the power of what I promised. Now I know, for
this year I am older than she was when she gave it to me... and I now ponder who, in due course, I
must present this tree to and who will keep the faith of generations with me. You see, I have arrived
at the stage of life when Christmas is far more about who I shall give to... rather than who will give
to me.
It cheers
My little tree (circa 1935), just 16 inches tall, literally bubbles with colorful cheer. It is called a
bubbler because its bulbs not only light up and glow... but one after another they bubble, except
(some days) the one at the very top which, eccentrically,often fails to bubble at all. Moreover, when
one bulb goes out.... they all go out which means a patient review of all. However, I wouldn't have it
any other way. Age means appreciating even flaws, for they, too, are a part of the whole.
Because I am an historian and like many such have a tendency to collect and keep for a lifetime, I
have been designated by my extended family as the "keeper", the one it is safe to leave with the
mementoes we all agree are important, but which no one but me wants to take care of. Once the
bubbler tree is set up, other boxes must be opened... and they can only be opened when there is
sufficient time to pause, remember, reflect, and again and again be seized by their heart-tugging
memories. One cannot rush this process for the memories will not be denied. They are forever
bittersweet... featuring as they do those loved and gone before. Yes, one must have sufficient time
for them for the memories that cascade at this time of the year are always vivid, poignant, rich... with
new meanings that come as I age.
I smile, for instance, at a styrofoam bell given to me (as to all class members) by Mrs. Eigenbraugh,
my third grade teacher. This ornament, a liberty bell, features my teacher in a stately formal pose.
She looks at me as the dedicated prairie teacher she was. The autograph reads simply "Mrs.
Eigenbraugh, 1955."
I am older now than Mrs. Eigenbraugh was then... and I clearly see her at her desk dutifully,
carefully signing each gift in her copperplate hand. She no doubt paid for these herself... and gave
them as a small memento of her and the season... little thinking that I, a half century later, should be
so moved at her gift... or her conscientious generosity. Do teachers give as much today?
Just one left

http://www.LizsWorldprofit.com Copyright Elizabeth English - 2012 4 of 12


I was born in 1947 to young parents who had, in those post war years, few dollars and sky-high
aspirations, with days and energy to spare. Like everyone else in the neighborhood they had a young
child, part of that baby boomer wave. For him, they bought a box of colored glass ornaments which I
broke one by one by getting in my petal powered red car, pushing it backwards across the living
room... then running car into Christmas tree... full speed ahead. No one seemed to mind. We were
young, and we all had time and youth to spend without care.
Now I hold that glass ball in my hand, of faded purple hue. It, along with my father and I, are the
survivors of this tale. And now this glass ornament, once so little valued that we all laughed every
time I, with my running feet and determined glint, scored a direct hit... now this glass, I say, is
precious and deeply valued as a memento of youth, both my parents and my own, and of the
beautiful dark-haired woman whose carefree laughter and love are as clear in this ornament as if it
were a crystal ball. She told me to take good care of this for there could never be another... I have
and I will. And in time I shall ask of another what she asked of me: to remember.... and to take good
care. For I am entitled to that as well., having well and truly kept the promise.
Remember and reconnect
Each year about this time, I set out to reconnect with someone from my past with whom I have lost
touch, the way one does. Sometimes I succeed in this task; sometimes I don't. When I do... I make a
point of writing them a memorable letter... about how important they are to me... and how well and
what I remember. Such letters in a lifetime are rare to write and rarer still to receive. I am pleased to
say they always stimulate a similar letter in response. That letter is always amongst my best
Christmas presents. As such I place it carefully among my other treasured gifts and mementos and
savor them as, each year, I take them out and let memory hold sway. Thus, with the help of my
dearly beloved, I keep Christmas in my heart all year long, like the better, reformed, wiser Ebenezer
Scrooge.
And so I say to you: God bless us everyone and every loving memory of yore. They make us what
we are and remind us, lovingly, of where we have been and the people who have helped us along the
way in so very many ways.
Merry Christmas!



The moans, groans, complaints and pontifications have
begun as the Christmas marketing season of 2011
commences. Which side are you on?
By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author's program note. Every year, it seems, the opening date for Christmas marketing creeps
forward, adding days, not just hours, to the already lengthy selling season. This year my cadre of
Christmas watchers reported seasonal catalog and store sightings as early as Labor Day, September
8 . But you can count on this: as people worldwide read this article, they will surely report even
earlier sightings. This happens every year... and as it does one of the interminable debates of our
times reignites: when is this much too much Christmas?
Ask this query in a crowded room and, hey presto, there will be pandemonium, mayhem, and
strident calls for the public lynching of the people who so tamper with and wantonly extend the most
important and revered holiday of the year. Christmas creep is here... and you have an opinion on this
matter; I'm sure of that. Everybody does.
Christmas is the promised land -- for merchants everywhere. That's the problem.
Christmas purists, and their number is legion, never tire of beating up the merchants who are, they
aver, at the bottom of Christmas creep. From this moment of the year forward, a large percentage of
Americans will get up on any soap box to hand and excoriate, insult, belittle and besmirch people
who earlier in the year they knew and attested to be good, hard-working, service-providing,
tax-paying citizens. But where Christmas creep is the issue, truth and justice are early casualties.
People will creep... it's as American as apple pie.
Know any folks from California? Or Oklahoma? I do. They are some of the nicest people you'll ever
meet. They are also the descendants of creepers.
Take California for instance. There a grand gentleman named John Augustus Sutter was peacefully
minding his own business when James W. Marshall on January 24, 1848 discovered gold on Sutter's
land, at Sutter's Mill, near Sacramento. The nation didn't say, "Good for you, Mr. Sutter." No way.
Instead they took to creeping on to old man Sutter's land, a little bit here, a little bit there... until the
creepers had everything and Mr. Sutter had nothing but lawsuits and a footnote in history. A little bit
of gold in them thar hills and a whole lot of creeping got us the State of California, and that's a fact.
Or consider the folks in Oklahoma. They're not called Sooners for nothing. In 1889, the federal
government organized the great land rush, whereby folks who wanted land could get it free by
racing for it against other land-hungry folks. Problem is, a good many of the wanters couldn't be
bothered to wait... and so they crept out early and grabbed the good stuff. Yup, they were creepers
and some of the best families of the state started that way, and that, too, is a fact. Creeping pays, and
only a Grinch would disagree.
But Grinches proliferate the closer Christmas comes and its insistent, unrelenting messages.
Although there have been plenty of Grinches in our history, lives, and culture, the actual character
debued in the 1957 children's book by Dr. Seuss, who was by all accounts a Grinch himself. It was
titled "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and was adopted into a popular television special in 1966.
In an instant people with anti-holiday spirit and growly disposition were indelibly tagged as
partisans of that scowling hermit with green fur, red eyes, and boots who lives in an isolated cave
near Whoville.



Now exuberant Christmas lovers had just what they needed to characterize and lambast the nay
sayers, "Don't be a Grinch," causing the justly labeled Grinches to writhe and squirm. Just as they
deserve. We all know it's fun -- and de rigueur -- to pick on each and every Grinch we know.
It's a question of dates.
After the fall in 1815 of Napoleon and his gimcrack empire, a peace conference was convened in
Vienna to divvy up the spoils. Participants included Russia, England, Prussia, Austria and -- drum
roll -- the France now ruled again by its Bourbon dynasty and represented by the Prince de
Talleyrand. One day Tsar Alexander I of Russia, who always made such a bad impression as he
rattled on about God and morality, was being particularly insufferable on the matter of how to divide
the Kingdom of Saxony, which had, in his imperial view, stayed loyal to Napoleon a little too long.
Its king, he insisted, should be losing half his country, or more.
Talleyrand, polished, aristocratic to his manicured fingertips, the ultimate cynic and realist, scanned
his colleagues, each of whom (but the English) had made deals with Bonaparte, and renigged on
them, snapped out that toxic phrase, "That, sire, is a question of dates."
And so it is with our Scrooges, our Grinches.
The person who wants no Christmas festivities at all, just strict, gloomy adherence to what they
suppose has been ordained and sanctified.... are Scrooges to the people who want the Christmas
season to exist for a day or two, but not more. These, in turn, get dubbed as Grinches by those who
want more... and there are always those who do. And so it goes...
... merchants trying (especially nowadays) to make up for one punk month after another, delving
deeper into the calendar....
... thereby fueling yelps of outrage and righteousness from folks who raise the cry of too much
self-seeking commercialism too early...
... thereby forcing those who might even agree in theory, to push the adamant seasonal marketing
forward and forward again, as an act of mercantile preservation and profit.
Each says, "Enough is enough"; each points fingers and mouths frantic imprecations; each postures,
preens, pouts, and always acts and speaks as if truth lived in their house and only their house. So
there!
Whoa! The baby at the center of Christmas has indeed been thrown out with the bath water, and this
will never do. Thus some thoughts of reconciliation, offered humbly and with trepidation.
Christmas has had a significant commercial aspect since the three wise men of the Orient, who came
so far and at such inconvenience, approached the manger and offered their expensive presents. Did
they just happen to find such offerings -- gold, frankincense, and myrrh -- in their saddlebags?
Doubtful. More likely, they had gone shopping at one of the great bazaars along the way; such
bazaars, blazing with the riches of the rich lands of the East, were the malls of their times... even
unto parking their camels, always malodorous and mean spirited. In such a place, even the most
fastidious desires of the most demanding could be met, including those who shopped for the King of
Kings, for whom they employed their most discriminating tastes and ample means, never rushed.
Thus, commercialism and Christmas go hand in hand... as they always have.
These suggestions will help you cope with and better enjoy this best of all holidays:
1) Let every man set his own acceptable level for just the amount of Christmas he desires. A laissez
faire attitude is not just useful, but mandatory. Stop worrying about whether the man next door is
asking too much or too little from the holiday and instead concentrate on making yours the best ever.



2) Leave the merchants alone. They have had a bad year; even if we think they are going over board,
let them get on with it without our jeremiads, lamentations and snide remarks. Where would we be
at Christmas, after all, without them?
3) Remember Henry Ford II's celebrated line, "Never complain, never explain". Since the very
inception of Christmas the Thought Police have attempted to coerce uniformity. Mr. Ford was
right... you owe it to no one and nobody to adhere; simply believe in your own way and style. As the
song says, "Have yourself a merry little Christmas..."
4) Select a few of your favorite Christmas carols and seasonal preferences and load them into your
audio player. You'll be a lot happier when you enter some establishment with music you detest, no
matter how venerable, if you can hear the tunes you particularly like.
And one more thing, whether the Christmas you celebrate is long or short, the single day itself, or
the 12 days with five gold rings and lords a-leaping, or something else altogether, remember this: the
gift you should most give and be most fortunate to receive is love... it is the only true and essential
element. All else pales beside it.



On the getting and giving of Christmas presents.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author's program note. I started and just about finished my Christmas shopping last night, December
14. That is the anniversary of the death of Queen Victoria's much loved husband Prince Albert... and
is the only day of any year when the public can view his mausoleum at Frogmore, on the grounds of
Windsor Castle. The great queen is also buried there. I went once on a rainy day many years ago to
see and found she had gone to the greatest possible lengths to make sure she was ready for him, her
comfort through the anticipated blissful ages to come.
Prince Albert is on my mind today because he is most probably the man who launched in England
the idea of the Christmas tree. And once he had done so, loyalists in the empire on which the sun
never set felt obliged to have Christmas trees, too, even former imperial colonies like our Great
Republic.
Prince Albert brought the idea from his picayune principality Saxe Coburg Gotha. If it had been up
to them, the idea of Christmas trees would have stayed German, insignificant, and parochial... but
Queen Victoria ruled over half the world... and her prince ruled over her. He liked Christmas trees
(indeed, he liked all things that were family oriented and allowed him to drop a sentimental tear or
two)... thus Victoria liked Christmas trees... it was the royal couple's gift to the world. I'm glad; I do
like the things with all their trimmings and especially their fresh pine scents.
Besides, all the presents do look nice artfully arranged under the tree, don't they? And since this is a
story about Christmas presents, it's nice to know you have a beautiful tree packed with mementoes
and memories of past years, a suitable place for packages wrapped and unwrapped.
Thus, I have selected the seasonal favorite "O Christmas Tree" as the incidental music for this
article. The best known version was written in 1824 by Leipzig organist Ernst Anschutz. It may also
have been introduced into England by Prince Albert, whose aspects were serious, nervous, severely
self critical and often lachrymose. If such a hard-working man (dead at just 42) could take pleasure
in an actual tree and a fine tune about that tree, I am glad he found some comfort and joy at
Christmas and thank him for introducing these features of the season to his wife... then the world.
You can find many renditions of this song in any search engine. It's very soothing...
Evening December 14
I am a person who has absolutely no Christmas spirit at all until I set about the important business of
selecting gifts for my chosen ones. You see, I am one of the decided minority of people who actually
like selecting and giving gifts. I do not regard the matter as forced (as so many others, budding
Scrooges all), onerous, a ridiculous waste of time and money, over as early and inexpensively as
possible. No, indeed.
I grew up in an Illinois home, part of the famous Baby Boom generation which has, since its
conception, had such a pronounced effect on manners and mores. Giving apt presents was one of the
things my family and friends liked to do, even grampa Walt who could be notoriously crusty about
such matters, especially if the spending of money was involved (as, with Christmas, it always was). I
have carried this cheerfulness with me even during my earliest days when money was scarce and one
was, therefore, often frustrated and impatient. That, at least, is not the problem now.
The real problem I face is two-fold. First, my annual list is dwindling year by year, compliments of
the Grim Reaper, who most assuredly is no cheerleader for Christmas. Second, with only two
exceptions (niece Chelsea and nephew Kyle) there are only two young people on the list, and they
are already young adults, teen-age years already gone. My adult recipients all have comfortable



lives, needing nothing but the one thing I cannot give: good health. Each and every one of them has
a pressing health need... and we are all at the age when no conversation would be complete without
a full and complete health update. Still, needing nothing, they would be most dismayed if nothing
came from me... and I should think most poorly of myself. And so, December 14, 2011, after the
day's work is done, I take out the stacks of catalogs I have been hoarding for months... and which are
essential to the only kind of shopping I will ever do... shopping which can be done from the ease and
comfort of home, never entering a store for any reason whatsoever.
First, as in every year, I draw up my list and, as always, I remember the dead of my family tree and
acquaintance, people I knew so well and loved over the course of a lifetime of Christmases. I never
forget these sinews of my life, though thinking of them is always bittersweet. I complete my short
list in just a minute or two; I know each name so well and wonder who will be the next to go,
shortening my list and diminishing my world.
I then make my preliminary pass through the 50 or so catalogs I have retained for just this moment.
Some are automatically eliminated; the Sharper Image catalog immediately goes into the trash due
to their astonishing ineptitude with an order for a dear friend. I shall never again trust my reputation
and seasonable equanimity to those boneheads. Catalogs for children are disregarded; we have no
children. Catalogs with soft furnishings are tossed; January sales will bring better offers. As for still
others offering t-shirts with the inscription "She who must be obeyed", these are not my style.
Having discarded the dross, I commence my real labors... this year made immensely easier by the
generous gift of a Sacher torte from Vienna, the gift of Dorotheum, Austria's leading auction house,
a place I do regular business. Two slices of this famous confection have put me in a very good mood
indeed. And so I begin my perusal and selection...
Unlike most Christmas gift givers, I have no pre-set budget. I buy what I like and which, from
constant effort, I know the recipient will like. Cost is never the major variable; appropriateness for
the recipient is. And so I ramble through the catalogs knowing I would give no present rather than
something hasty or unsuitable for a single person on my short list, all loved and cherished by me.
Yet except for Kyle who is difficult, I find over the course of the next 3-4 hours presents that I like,
that I feel sure my recipients will like, too. Then today, most probably in the early evening, I shall
call every 800 number indicated and use my credit card to make all the purchases. The most
important thing about this way of doing business is that one must be patient, partly because it's a
very busy season and partly because the help is often seasonal, with all the potential problems that
entails. Yes, patience is required. And a sunny word to the order taker, if she feels down and
bedraggled, conditions immediately apparent.
In a couple of hours on the phone, my shopping is done... gifts now on their way, whilst I take up the
next and final part of my shopping; a visit to Trader Joe's for purchase of the sherry I distribute to all
the people who make my life easier, condo maintenance, house cleaners, et al. I have looked for a
lifetime for the sherries I give now (for my taste includes both amontillado and cream); Real Tesoro
is by far the best, and the least expensive; a miracle often performed at Trader Joe's.
Now I am done... simultaneously glad and sad by the paucity of my gifts... happy that I shall make
these special ones happy at least once more... but missing the dear ones gone before and still so
loved. For these, I take out my egg nog, remembering the great silver bowl my grandfather used
when he administered the nog with brandy; (who got that anyway?), whilst I need only a glass.
And then I plug in my 13" tree, the one with the bubblers my grandmother gave me a half century
ago. And in its undulating bubbles all I see is the past... Christmases past retaining a magic
Christmases future cannot hope to duplicate or reprise. But in my dark, quiet room, punctuated by
the brilliant lights on my little tree, "O Christmas Tree" seizes and sooths me... and reminds me how



sturdy God has made me... ready for the future to come...
"O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree How sturdy God hath made thee! Thou bidds't us all place
faithfully Our trust in God, unchangingly."
### We invite your comments on this article below.



Resource
About The Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., where small and
home-based businesses learn how to profit online. Attend Dr. Lant's live webcast TODAY and
receive 50,000 free guaranteed visitors to the website of your choice! Fr. Lant is a well known
speaker, consultant and author of 18 best-selling business books.
Republished with author's permission by Elizabeth English http://LizsWorldprofit.com.


How to Keep Christmas well in your heart throughout the year

Recomendados

Recomendados

Mais conteúdo relacionado

Mais procurados

Mais procurados (17)

Destaque

Destaque (7)

Semelhante a How to Keep Christmas well in your heart throughout the year

Semelhante a How to Keep Christmas well in your heart throughout the year (8)

Mais de Elizabeth English

Mais de Elizabeth English (8)

How to Keep Christmas well in your heart throughout the year