CHRISTMAS TRADITIONS

Christmas with my grandfather always meant the perfect Christmas tree. He would spend hours cutting off branches, drilling holes in the tree and repositioning each branch until the tree was perfect. My brother, sister and I would sit and watch him, yawning frequently, sometimes falling asleep, and being poked awake by each other, waiting for Grandpa to get the tree perfect so we could decorate it. My Mother put on the lights and her prize ornaments from Germany. We were then allowed to add a few plastic balls and hang the icicles which had to be hung one at a time. When I would get up during the night I would find my Mother still in the living room repositioning each icicle until the tree was a work of art.
When I had my own family the Christmas tree lost much of its perfection. We never quite got the knack of how to choose a tree. One year we could only get it to stand straight by tying a string around the tree and attaching it to the wall with a tack. The tack gave way and the tree ended up on the kitchen floor. This was the end for many of my mother’s precious ornaments that I had inherited. The rest were broken the next year when one of my sons received a clown punching bag as a gift. Need I say more? I started my own tradition listening to Dean Martin’s Christmas album while trimming the tree. This caused a lot of moans and groans when the children became teenagers. One thing remained of my mother’s traditions, I still insisted on the icicles being hung one at a time. I often found myself doing this alone as everybody got bored quickly and disappeared until the next meal.
When the children were grown, one of my daughters invited me to come and help trim their Christmas tree. When she opened the door, I was delighted to hear Dean Martin singing, “Ill Be Home For Christmas”. After the tree was trimmed I was appalled to see my two grandsons, three and four years, throwing icicles on the tree. When my oldest grandson handed me a bunch of icicles, I looked into his shining laughing eyes, said quietly to my self, “Forgive me Mother”, and threw the icicles at the tree.

WHO NAMED OUR COLORS?
Who named the sky's color blue?
It wasn't me. Was it you?
I have never liked this name very well.
It sounds sad and is hard to spell.
Let's not call it blue, just for today.
Kubu would be more fun to say.
The bright kubu sky meets the deep kubu sea.
This sounds happier to me.
Let's see what we can do with the color red.
It sounds like a book that has been put to bed.
Let's not call it red, just for today.
Bipo would be more fun to say.
The shiny bipo apple fell from the tree.
This sounds happier to me.
A new name is needed for the color white.
It sounds like teeth without any bite
Let's not call it white, just for today
Dizzle would be more fun to say.
The dizzle clouds floated free.
This sounds happier to me.
Our flag's colors of red, white, and blue
Would now be bipo, dizzle and kubu.
This would be a fun thing to say.
Just remember, it's only for today.
Yellow's name can stay the same.
For sunshine there is no better name.
Let's keep the name yellow for today.
Yellow is a fun word to say.
The yellow bus takes me home at three.
This makes yellow sound happy to me.

WHO NAMED OUR COLORS?
Who named the sky's color blue?
It wasn't me. Was it you?
I have never liked this name very well.
It sounds sad and is hard to spell.
Let's not call it blue, just for today.
Kubu would be more fun to say.
The bright kubu sky meets the deep kubu sea.
This sounds happier to me.
Let's see what we can do with the color red.
It sounds like a book that has been put to bed.
Let's not call it red, just for today.
Bipo would be more fun to say.
The shiny bipo apple fell from the tree.
This sounds happier to me.
A new name is needed for the color white.
It sounds like teeth without any bite
Let's not call it white, just for today
Dizzle would be more fun to say.
The dizzle clouds floated free.
This sounds happier to me.

WHAT IF?
What if the sun doesn’t shine?
I won’t lie around and whine.
I’ll spend the day with a good book
Curled up in my favorite nook.

What if someone does not like me?
I won’t hide where no one can see.
I’ll look elsewhere for a friend.
One person is not the end.

What if I can’t afford steak tonight?
I can still have a hamburger to bite.
I’ll toss a patty on the grill,
Warm a bun and eat my fill.

What if you don’t like this verse?
I could always make it worse.
I could make you want to yawn.
I could go on, and on, and on.

A GOOFY TOON
Don walked into his apartment and noticed the light blinking on his answering machine. He picked up the phone, pushed the button and listened to his friend Jim’s voice.
“Call me, Don. I’ll be at home this evening. Don’t make any plans for Saturday until we talk.”
Don returned Jim’s call. “What’s up, pal?”
“Hello, Don. I have a family reunion to go to Saturday and I would like you to come with me. I’m sorry for the late notice, but I forgot about it until my sister Connie called today to remind me.”
“Where is the reunion, Jim? I was planning to visit my parents this weekend.”
“It’s in Janesville at the Stillwater Lake Park. That’s not even twenty miles from your parent’s home in Canton. I hope you will come, as I have someone I want you to meet.”
“Not a set up with one of your old flames that burned out, I hope.”
“I don’t date my cousins, Don. This girl is perfect for you. Trust me!”
“Okay, Jim, I’ll meet you at the park on Saturday. Bye!”
“Bye, Don until Saturday. You won’t be sorry.”
Don drove up to the park Saturday morning after spending Friday night with his parents. He heard Jim call as he got out of his car. Jim was busy at one of the barbecues and waved a pair of tongs at Don motioning him over.
As Don was greeting Jim’s parents and sister, Jim approached with a beautiful girl on his arm. She had long dark brown wavy hair and sparkling eyes. A smile filled her whole face as she looked up at Don. Her bright yellow sun dress accented the brightness of the moment.
“Daisy, Jim said, meet Donald. Donald, meet Daisy. Get it! Donald and Daisy, the Disney ducks. I told you that you were perfect for each other. But Don and Daisy weren’t laughing. They were still standing there smiling at each other unaware of Jim.
“Daisy, would you like to ‘duck’ out of here and go paddle together in the lake?”
“Is that a real invitation, Don, or just a wise quack?”
“It is a real invitation. Let’s just jump in with both feet and get to know each other.”
This was the beginning of their courtship.
Soon people stopped thinking of Disney’s ducks when they were near them. Instead they marveled at the glow that emanated from this happy couple. After six months they both knew this was forever. Don proposed. “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I’m half crazy all for the love of you. Will you marry me?”
“I will marry you under two conditions she said. We will never name any of our children any name that can be shortened to Huey, Dewy or Louie, and we will never associate with any couple named Mickey and Minnie.”
The wedding was beautiful. The colors were white and yellow and there were white and yellow daisies everywhere. Jim, the best man, told everyone at the reception how he brought Daisy and Donald together. Daisy just smiled and Don wore a ‘Goofy’ grin.
Oh yes, and they all lived happily ever after!

Life of a Paperclip

LIFE OF A PAPER CLIP

by

Gloria Hannigan

My first recollections are of nestling in a box among my 599 sibling paper clips. We are a colorful bunch, red, yellow, blue, pink, and green. Our box is situated on a shelf at Office Depot between the medium and large size paper clips, just above the post-it notes and staples. We are much prettier than our neighbors, but we try to be tolerant of their shortcomings.
One day a great turmoil occurred in our lives. Our box shook and we were standing on end as we were taken from the shelf at Office Depot and traveled by automobile to a private home where we were deposited in a desk drawer. We quickly adjusted to our new surroundings and were happy to know that we would now be put to use.
One by one my brothers and sisters went to start their livelihoods. My brother Blue became the fastener holding Mrs. Jones coupons. My sisters Pink and Yellow decorated, eight-year-old, Mary’s homework assignments. I had the most important position. I held the tickets to the games during baseball season for Mr. Jones. One day, every week, during Baseball season, I would be taken from my corner in the desk drawer and clipped to the tickets. At the ballpark, I would give up the tickets and return to Mr. Jones pocket. Mr. Jones called me his lucky green paper clip. He felt his team would lose if he didn’t have me with him.
Mr. Jones was very angry when the teams went on strike. "So much for my lucky clip", he said as he tossed me out in the parking lot of the stadium.
The rains came, the sun shone, the parking lot sweepers picked me up and deposited me in different areas. My beautiful green color soon peeled away leaving a dull gray.
After the strike was settled people came back to the parking lot once more. I became embedded in the sole of a shoe and could not get loose. I wiggled and stretched to no avail. Soon I was back in an automobile traveling to another private home. During this ride, Bill Gates saw me on the bottom of his shoe. "What have we here? He said. I have an idea."
Microsoft Word now employs me. My name is 'Clippit', and I will help you write your stories.