Sandpaper

At this time of year we are flooded with cute e-cards and seasonal images of colorful Christmas trees. Sometimes, when a really cute one comes my way I think, "Oh, this would be good to put in the blog!" Then I'll see another, and another, and I let the moment pass by.

Alan, one of the most prolific blog readers and commenter's, has sent several images that are truly worthwhile sharing.

Arlington National Cemetery

You may be interested to know that these wreaths, some 5,000, are donatedby the Worcester Wreath Co. of Harrington, Maine.

The owner, Merrill Worcester, not only provides the wreaths,

but covers the trucking expense as well.

He's done this since 1992. A wonderful guy.

Also, most years, groups of Maine school kids combine an

educational trip to DC with this event to help out.

Making this even more remarkable is the fact that

Harrington is in one the poorest parts of the state.

This poem was sent to me by both Alan from Canada and by Kathie #106. I found it timely and interesting in that Alan's version had the sleeping soldier a British Peacekeeper, while Kathie's (sent to her by her Air Force granddaughter Dana) is a U.S. soldier. Whichever version, it is thought provoking and touching.

ITS CHRISTMAS DAY ALL IS SECURE

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HE LIVED ALL ALONE,

IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,

AND TO SEE JUST WHO IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

*

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT, A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,

NO TINSEL NO PRESENTS NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY THE MANTLE, JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND.

ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES OF FAR DISTANT LANDS

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES, AWARDS OF ALL KINDS.

A SOBER THOUGHT CAME THROUGH MY MIND

*

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT, IT WAS DARK AND DREARY.

I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING SILENT ALONE,

CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

*

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE, THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER

NOT HOW I PICTURED A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO OF WHOM I'D JUST READ

CURLED UP ON A PONCHO, THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

*

I REALISED THE FAMILIES THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT

OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON AROUND THE WORLD THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,

AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

*

THEY ALL ENJOY FREEDOM EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR

BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER HOW MANY ALONE,

ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

*

THE VERY THOUGHT BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE.

I DROPPED TO MY KNEES AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE

'SANTA DON'T CRY THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE.

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM. I DON'T ASK FOR MORE.

MY LIFE IS MY GOD, MY COUNTRY. MY CORPS'

*

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP.

I COULDN'T CONTROL IT, I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS, SO SILENT AND STILL,

AND WE BOTH SHIVERED FROM THE COLD NIGHTS CHILL.

*

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE ON THAT COLD DARK NIGHT,

THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOUR SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,

WHISPERED 'CARRY ON SANTA, ITS CHRISTMAS DAY ALL IS SECURE'.

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT'.

MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT'