I love our family’s tradition of selecting stories on Christmas Eve from “The Happy Christmas Story Book,” a collection published by “Ideals” back in 1961. It was a gift to my husband’s sister Laura back in 1964, from their parents, but somehow ended up in our library.
Other than the traditional “The Night Before Christmas,” the stories and poems are not ones you’ll read elsewhere, and are not by writers you’ve likely ever heard of. Every year, I think about these writers, and how surprised they might be to learn that their words have not, 50-some years later, slipped completely into oblivion — at least for the Short family.
The stories and poems are wide-ranging and surprisingly raw at times — one written as a letter from a poor kid to Santa, wondering why Santa never stops. After all, the kid has been extra good this year!
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There’s one about a rocking horse that ends up as a substitute reindeer, another edge-of-the-seat tale (will the old rag dolly get tossed aside for the shiny new doll? At the last second, the old rag dolly is saved: “So, after all, Christmas was happy as ever, And old dollies shouldn’t be sad, should they? — never!”)
Every page has a beautiful, detailed illustration.
Our daughters are now 24 and 25, adult women who live far from their hometown. We feel blessed that they’ll both be home for Christmas this year. And yes, even though they are full adults, we’ll continue this tradition on Christmas Eve.
But it will be extra-poignant this year. My mother-in-law, Janice, passed away right before Thanksgiving, and we had her memorial service two days before Christmas Eve. She was greatly loved, and loved us all greatly. She also loved Christmas Eve. This was the evening of the year on which she shone the most. She savored and enjoyed the holiday — her family gathering at her home for a delicious meal and gift-giving and hugs a-plenty. Afterward, David and I would gather up our daughters, head home, and read from “The Happy Christmas Story Book.”
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With her passing, we’ll need to adjust our Christmas Eve tradition. Who knows what that will mean in future years — though, as a family of huggers, I’m sure it will include hugs a-plenty. And for this year at least, it means David and I and our daughters will read to one another from “The Happy Christmas Story Book.”
But I think that Janice, generous spirit that she was, would be pleased if I’d share a piece from the book with you, too. It’s a light-hearted selection, for though we may feel sorrow for those we’ve lost this year, this is also the time of year to find joy and delight.
“Come, Ride With Me to Toyland”
By Rowena Bennett
Come, ride with me to Toyland,
For this is Christmas Eve,
And just beyond the Dream Road
(Where all is make-believe)
There lies a truly Toyland
A real and wondrous Joyland,
A little-Girl-and-Boy Land,
Too lovely to conceive!
There Christmas fairies plant a tree
That blossoms forth in stars
And comes to fruit in sugarplums;
There dolls and balls and painted drums
And little trains of cars
All stand and wait for you and me
Beneath the shining wonder-tree.
So saddle up your hobby horse
And ride across the night.
The thundering of our coursers’ hoofs
Will put the moon to flight;
And when the east is kitten-gray
We’ll sight that wondrous Joyland,
And at the break of Christmas Day
We’ll gallop into Toyland!
To all my readers — Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Hugs-a-Plenty.
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