Dick Summer Connection

Been collecting your Christmas memories/hopes for the regular podcasts, and this blog. Today’s Christmas story could be about a visit from St. Nick to my brothers Jeff and Pete. Jeff served two hitches in Vietnam, Pete was in Germany. Thanks guys.

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 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 REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN’T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY 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 NIGHT’S CHILL.

I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, “CARRY ON SANTA,

IT’S 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.”

This poem was written by a Marine. The following is his request. I think it is reasonable…..

PLEASE. Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon, and some credit is due to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let’s try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe.

There’s still time to get your Christmas stories in to Dick@DickSummer.com for posting on these blogs or being part of the regular podcasts at DickSummer.com/podcast . I don’t remember who sent this one, but I like it. It’s simple and HONEST:

I love this time of year! I am a December baby and so is my daughter. So, we get lots of presents!  One of my favorite Christmas stories is the year my Mom got all three of us bikes! My Mom was a single mom (in the early 70’s working full time, and going to college and we didn’t have much money, but she was determined to buy us bikes! My little brother was only 3 or 4, so it was easy to get him a bike and put it together. But she knew she had to scour the pennysaver paper to find second hand bikes for me and my other brother. She was determined! That Christmas morning we got up early as usual; but couldn’t get to the tree because my mother blocked the access to it…we were so excited…what did we get?  When we saw the bikes, we were so happy! Mine was the prettiest pink bike! I had that bike for years! Riding to and from school; riding in the park and throughout the neighborhood. It was one of the best Christmases because we really wanted bikes and didn’t know how Mom was going to get them for us!( my youngest brother thinks he got his from Santa!) You know, I don’t remember what happened to that pretty pink bike! It was so long ago. We are all grown up now.
> No pouting… just fond memories. Merry Christmas!

We’re ready. We’ve watched “The Grinch,” “Miracle on 34^th Street,” Scrooge in “The Christmas Carol,” “Holiday Inn,” Pierce Brosnan’s “Thomas Crown Affair” and “Casablanca.” Thomas Crown has the most beautiful sail plane scene, and a very wise comment from the police detective about things that are only important to silly rich people. And time always goes by so gently in “Casablanca.” My Lady Wonder Wench and I like watching those movies on the week before Christmas. It would be kicks to know what movies you like to watch before Christmas. If you have a moment, drop me a note at Dick@DickSummer.com . We’ll use some of your favorites in the podcasts.

I think this Sunday’s podcast is the 579th podcast. The 579th time I’m telling you about something that happens in my life. Which means I have to look around to find something new… which is really good. Because it makes me look more carefully at what’s going on around me. I like telling you about first times. First times rock. Like the first scent of fresh coffee beans when you open the jar…the first time the Christmas tree smells like you remember it from when you were five, the way your mate looks, sleeping… in the first light of dawn. Pretty often, as a Louie Louie Generation lad or lass, you have to face the first time there’s a last time in your life…like the day you suddenly really know it’s time to retire from a career you’ve loved, or when it’s time to tell an old friend that his political or religious views have become so extreme that you just can’t talk with him anymore. I had to face an awful first time for a last time when I realized a little while ago that I probably won’t ever get to talk to a daughter again. And those of us who are members of the Louie-Louie Generation have all been around long enough to know what it’s like to experience the first time you know it’s the last time you’ll see your mother or father, your husband or wife. So, close your eyes, count to ten, and open them again. Then look around carefully enough to find something you didn’t notice before. Or do something you’ve always wanted to do, but never got around to doing it. It’ll Christmas up your life. Merry Christmas.

Your Christmas memories please. Send them to Dick@DickSummer.com for this blog and the regular podcasts. Here’s one from my Lady Wonder Wench. 

We had real glass ornaments on our tree at home … musical instruments of all kinds … and a stuffed Santa Claus which somehow lost an arm but always held onto our tree with the other one.  I’ll tell you a story about that Santa:  my folks gave him to me and my Louie-Louie Lad and I hung him every Christmas, until my dad died.  When it came time to do as Walter, my dad had asked and give his ashes to the ocean, Dick took him flying one last time, along with that by then totally bedraggled santa, and let them both sail free over the water. We had one musical instrument left and I sent it to my younger brother.  I don’t know whether he kept it.  I wish I had …Now we have a few glass balls left from when I was very little.  I think we will save them until our little Cecelia is old enough to understand and give them to her. Christmas memories are so very real …

Thanks for sending your Christmas notes for this blog, and the regular podcasts to Dick@DickSummer.com . Here’s a note from me. The Salvation Army volunteers are out again this year, some of them are bravely blowing trumpets right into the winter wind, and others just ringing a little bell and smiling.  They don’t do it for pay.  They do it for Christmas.  For some folks passing by, that Salvation Army Volunteer’s smile is the only smile they’ll see on a real person that day. One winter a long time ago, the Salvation Army rescued Christmas for a little girl by seeing to it that she had a doll and a good turkey dinner. That little girl grew up to become my beautiful Lady Wonder Wench.  Hey Christmas, thank you for taking care of her that year…before I knew her.

Still time to get your Christmas thoughts in for these blogs, or the regular podcasts. Please send them to Dick@DickSummer.com Here’s one from a few years ago that I think about from time to time all year long. I think it was from Proud Podcast Person, “Betsy.” 

Whenever I’m disappointed with my spot in life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott. Jamie was trying out for a part in the school Christmas play. His mother told me that he’d set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen. On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement.. ‘Guess what, Mom,’ he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a lesson to me….’I’ve been chosen to clap and cheer.’

Please send your Christmas thoughts to Dick@DickSummer.com for use here and on the podcasts. Here’s another example of what you remember best about Christmas From Proud Podcast Participant “Don”:

Here we are with another Christmas coming fast. But have we taken a moment to stop and think what this holiday really means? I know I haven’t. It’s that time of year where we can all stop and smile at stranger and they don’t wonder if you’re about to mug them.

I think we all need to take a step back from all the hype and the ads that say buy this or that. I’ve found myself wondering what Virginia would say if she were alive today? I’ve read the letter she wrote to the newspaper. Would she write it again? All I know is that Christmas means reaching out to someone who needs the help or might be hungery for a hug or a kind word. Have we become so jaded over time that all we can believe in is ourselves?  Josh Groban did a song for the movie Polar Express, all it said was you need to believe in the magic of the holiday. The tree in your living room with all the decorations collected over the years. Some because they have a special meaning or some because they are pretty. The yule log burning in the fireplace. I remember how hard it was for me to sleep on the eve of Christmas, or how I thought I heard sleigh bell softly ringing in the night. Opening the little gifts in the stocking. We need to believe in something bigger than the commercial side of the holiday and hope for snow on Christmas Eve. As a member of the Louie Louie Generation I will always believe in the softer and gentler things of Christmas. I hope the sleigh bell never stops ringing. For those who have loved ones in harms way overseas, my hope for them is to come home to you soon. I say that as one who served. May we all get those gifts that we truly want.

Thank you for sending your Christmas/Hanakah/Solstice/Quanza memories for this blog and the podcasts. I’m not sure about this one from Proud Podcast Participant Bill. But hey…Who knows ?

As a joke, my brother Mike used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true, because every Christmas morning, although Mike’s kids stockings were always full, his poor panty hose never was. One year, I decided to make his Christmas wish come true. I put on a pair of sunglasses, and slinked into the neighborhood “Adult bookstore.” I decided to buy a standard, uncomplicated inflatable lady, that could also substitute as a fake passenger in my car, so I could use the car pool lane during the rush hour. I settled for a doll called “Loveable Lara.” On Christmas Eve, with the help of a bicucle pump, Lara came to life. My sister in law was in on the plan, and let me in during the week morning hours. I filled Mike’s dangling panty hose with Lara’s legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies, and drank a glass of milk left out on a nearby table. Mike called me in the morning to tell me that Santa had finally made his wish come true, and to accuse me of having something to do with it. He said the only problem with Lara, was that she confused the dog, who kept coming over, looking at the pantyhose and bark, start to walk away, and come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Lara should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for dinner. My Grandmother noticed Lara as soon as she walked in the door, and said, “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” My brother explained that it was just a doll. “WHERE ARE HER CLOTHES ? WHY DOESN’T SHE HAVE ANY TEETH? I considered answering her questions, but I didn’t want to have to spend Christmas riding in the back of an ambulance, saying “Hang on Grandma, hang on.” My Grandfather, a great guy with bad eyesight, sidled up to me and said, “Hey Bill, who’s the naked lady by the fireplace ?” I told him she was Mike’s friend. A few minutes later, I noticed him over by the fireplace, flirting with Lara. It was then that I realized that this might be Grandpa’s last Christmas at home. The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Lara made a noise like you often hear from a bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the fireplace, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the TV. The cat screamed, I passed some cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran over, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. Mike fell off his chair. Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.

Later we discovered that Lara had suffered a puncture from a hot ember on the back of her left leg. Fortunately, with the aid of a wonder drug called Duct tape, we restored her to perfect health, so she can be with us to celebrate New Year’s Eve.

Lots of your Christmas stories coming in. (Please send yours to Dick@DickSummer.com) And check out what this is all about at DickSummer.com/podcast Here’s an especially important one from Proud Podcast Participant Bob Conklin.

Hi Dick

I am going to attempt to put this set of memories to paper. It is not a single story per say but rather a collection of what I remember. I say attempt because I suffer from that affliction that I suspect most of us Louie Louie generation men suffer from, the one that tends to cause excessive moisture to collect over the lens of your eye blocking the ability to see the text clearly. Here goes:

My dad was a firefighter for the City of White Plains, NY where I was born and raised. Being in that job meant that there was more then a good chance he would have to work on Christmas as well as my birthday, New Years day and any other holiday you care to mention. As an aside his birthday was December 24^th so that meant he generally had to work his birthday too. Dad made sure the 3 kids and mom, my older brother and sister then later on my baby sister who never made it to her first birthday, always would go to Christmas Eve services. Our church held a true midnight service, where the Christmas story was told and at the stroke of midnight Silent Night was sung with the pipe organ quietly playing along. We held candles and sang our hearts out. Our church used real candles on the alter and in the pews. As I grew older I remember that the city told our church that in order to keep using real candles they would have to have a Firefighter in church to monitor the service. I can still see my dad working his magic to arrange his shift to make sure he was at church for the service before heading back to the station so finish out his shift. Dad never let on that it was he who would request that assignment because for as long as I can remember he was the dispatcher and that was a job that not all firefighters could do. Looking back now that he is gone, I am saddened that I never said thank you to him for doing what he could do to be near us even though he was working to serve our city. (There it is that affliction I mentioned earlier) On the rare times that he did not have to work, he would still wear his dress uniform and take us all in the old Chevy to church and secretly smile to the firefighter that was on duty while dad would hold my hand.

Damn its hard to type through the tears that always come.

Merry Christmas Dick!