“I Remember Fondly Christmas’ Past” copyright 2005 by John J. Rigo, selection from “Rainbows Amidst Storms”

Courtesy of dailymail.co.uk

(The little boy’s story in the poem is true and a time from my own past.) This Christmas Season of 2013, I was thinking of my Father. This poem mentions him several times. I remember how dirty he was when he came home from work when I was a little boy. My Father was an iron and steel worker.  After he came home and took a bath, my Mother would then attempt to clean the ring out of the bathtub from his bath.  Many times with close to a half hour of scrubbing, she still could not get it out.  In those days, my Father made about a hundred dollars a week.  He worked very hard for that money.

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I remember fondly Christmas’ past

our first tree alive with lights

before it caught fire later that week.

 

I remember fondly the Christmas with toys.

Never before had my brother and I received toys.

How angry my Father became when we broke several

toys after a few hours of play.

 

It was my Father’s first Christmas bonus

as a steel worker.

He spent that bonus on toys for us that Christmas.

He thought those toys would never break.

 

I remember fondly a special Christmas as a kid

when no money was available whatsoever for toys.

We found a punch-out cardboard castle in a

department store window.

 

One dollar and ninety-eight cents was the price of that castle.

My young brother and I played with it for days.

A punch-out castle was the best toy we ever had.

 

I remember fondly Christmas past,

acting in the church Christmas pageant.

I was a little child with the beard of a prophet

shaking in a spotlight in the church play.

It snowed that night.

 

My best friend and I asked

permission to keep wearing the beards.

A most beautiful snow floated through the air

as we walked home together.

 

The dirty streets of the city were made

clean and white with heavy, swirling snow flakes.

We sang church carols walking home

our arms around each other’s shoulder.

How close to baby Jesus we were back then.

 

I remember fondly Christmas’ past

when life seemed so much simpler.

Joys more easily shared with

laughter much deeper than now.

 

Still I thank God that I had those Christmas’ past

even to this special day of a new Christmas.

Another December which will also will soon be gone

into the misty memory of another Christmas’ past.  

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“I Remember Fondly Christmas’ Past” copyright 2005 by John J. Rigo, selection from “Rainbows Amidst Thorns”

Courtesy of dailymail.co.uk

(The little boy’s story in the poem is true and a time from my own past.) This Christmas Season of 2013, I was thinking of my Father. This poem mentions him several times. I remember how dirty he was when he came home from work when I was a little boy. My Father was an iron and steel worker.  After he came home and took a bath, my Mother would then attempt to clean the ring out of the bathtub from his bath.  Many times with close to a half hour of scrubbing, she still could not get it out.  In those days, my Father made about a hundred dollars a week.  He worked very hard for that money.

*****************************************

 

 

I remember fondly Christmas’ past

our first tree alive with lights

before it caught fire later that week.

 

I remember fondly the Christmas with toys.

Never before had my brother and I received toys.

How angry my Father became when we broke several

toys after a few hours of play.

 

It was my Father’s first Christmas bonus

as a steel worker.

He spent that bonus on toys for us that Christmas.

He thought those toys would never break.

 

I remember fondly a special Christmas as a kid

when no money was available whatsoever for toys.

We found a punch-out cardboard castle in a

department store window.

 

One dollar and ninety-eight cents was the price of that castle.

My young brother and I played with it for days.

A punch-out castle was the best toy we ever had.

 

I remember fondly Christmas past,

acting in the church Christmas pageant.

I was a little child with the beard of a prophet

shaking in a spotlight in the church play.

It snowed that night.

 

My best friend and I asked

permission to keep wearing the beards.

A most beautiful snow floated through the air

as we walked home together.

 

The dirty streets of the city were made

clean and white with heavy, swirling snow flakes.

We sang church carols walking home

our arms around each other’s shoulder.

How close to baby Jesus we were back then.

 

I remember fondly Christmas’ past

when life seemed so much simpler.

Joys more easily shared with

laughter much deeper than now.

 

Still I thank God that I had those Christmas’ past

even to this special day of a new Christmas.

Another December which will also will soon be gone

into the misty memory of another Christmas’ past.  

Read Full Post »