Christmas Story

I have always had a place in my heart for the Christmas memories my parents created for us. One of my favorite stories I like to share with people is the time my father pretended to be Santa Claus.

When I was about 3 and my brother 5, my dad decided to play Santa. We really believed Santa existed and we always put cookies and beer on the mantle near the tree, and we hoped he would come this year... my brother was always under the threat of getting coal in his his stocking.

Anyway, my dad put up an extension ladder against the house near our window and jingled a string of real "jingle bells" bellowing out "ho, ho, ho". My brother and I heard that and we whispered to each other to get under the covers before Santa finds out we were were really awake! We then heard this very loud scraping and imagined Santa's sleigh landing on the roof! Then we heard fairly loud crash, which we "knew" was the heavy sleigh landing (not to mention all those reindeer!). Then we heard Santa calling our mother's name "Dorothy.... Dorothy....."

- His ladder had slid across the side of the house and crashed onto the veranda (enclosed porch) and since the ladder was on the ground "Santa" had no way of getting off the roof of the porch!

The cookies and beer were always gone in the morning!

Poetry: "She Is Silent Now"

Here is another one of my poems that I have been writing to memorialize some of the remarkable people I have the privilege of meeting through my work as a Hospice Chaplain. In that work, we often meet people who at one time in their lives were vivacious and very engaged with everyone around them. Sometimes, as time and disease overtake these precious ones, they are no longer the person they used to be. This is sad, but by recounting their lives, it can become a point of celebration of their lives as we once knew them.


She Is Silent Now…


She was a talker…
Almost non-stop
When she spoke
She laughed

A social gadfly
Everyone’s friend
Kind words
Given freely

She talked about life
She talked about dreams
She talked about the future
She talked about weddings

Looking at pictures
Of social events
Where she talked a lot
She is silent now

But her echo
Is heard in the
Things she touched
She is silent now

A smile
Catches a lone tear
She talked once
She is silent now





Richard D Harris
10/24/2009

We run into people who we knew years ago, remembered by a single defining character trait. Now things are different, and we choose to remember the best in this soul now changed forever by time and human frailty. We celebrate them in the sadness of remembrance.

Norway, from the train!

THE BEACH...

The Beach

The sun was hot... the sand was hotter than the sun,
We went from sun-soaked sand to cool refreshing water.
You were our own personal life-guard,
Seriously studying the surging water...counting heads.

Ocean breezes caress our brows,
Memories flash and form in this love filled room,
Thinking back to that magical moment,
Every time I smell the Ocean.

You held my hand tight as we raced down the beach
So we would be the first to cross the imaginary finish line.
We slept on the way home...
Too tired to traumatize our siblings.

Those moments on the beach... frozen in my memory...
Like a picture-postcard! Precious...Inviting.
You made those moments possible,
And I am grateful.

The beach... not just a place...
But an encounter with time and tender thoughts....
An accumulation of memories of good times with you.
You wanted us to be happy... and we were...

And I am happy at this moment
as I see you smiling on the beach.

By Richard D Harris

This piece is a tribute to my mother... and to all mothers who did all they could to make summer memories for their children. Those memories live on... and fill our lives with joy.

Friends

Mary Jayne, Ingrid, Rick

We have a wonderful friend from Sweden who came to visit this weekend. Ingrid and her parents were a part of our church for many years before moving to Sweden. Ingrid is a talented lady who teaches in a local school in Sweden and has 4 handsome and intelligent boys, and a husband who is the typical quiet Swede with that dry humor. We don't see each other much, but keep in touch now and then. Two years ago my wife and I went on vacation with Ingrid and her mother, Irene, to Norway (where Irene's family is from), and saw the Fjords and all the other wonderful sights and sounds (and foods!) of Scandinavia. We had an absolutely wonderful vacation with our friends, and hope to repeat it someday.

I remember hearing that 'true friends can be counted on one hand'... and over the years, I believe that is very true. I believe it was C.S. Lewis who said that these type of friends are the kind that when you don't see them for a long time, and you begin to talk, it is as if you pick up the conversation where you left off. And that is what true friends are... they are people that you always have in your heart. You may not converse every day, you may not see each other for years at a time, but when you do meet up again, it's like you just saw them 'yesterday'!

Be glad you have a handful of friends!


(p.s., I think the C.S. Lewis quote is from "The Four Loves"... a literary scholars 'exposition' of the various Greek words for 'love.')

Poetic Insiration

Thoughts About Poetic Inspiration


The misty fog of sleep
Yields waking moments of inspiration.
In the darkness I wrote as best as I could between
The shadows on the paper on my desk.

A bit of poetry creeping through my mind...
A stray cat floats through my yard,
It sticks there, like the image in your eye
After a bright object scores your retina.

Stumbling around in half-sleep
Grasping for a pen to write down
Nobel winning words…
I must capture it before it floats away.

Finally my eyes focus on the paper
And I write in large hand
Hoping the words will be recognized
By a sane and fully awakened bard.

The next day, this dreamer wonders
If the dream is real… did I write it down?
Yes! It's there… barely legible
Waiting for a strong hand to bend the words.

The very event inspires me.
That a moment in time… takes on reality
And the words that came to me in the dark
Make a difference to the somnolent reader.


(somnolent= tired, weary)

by Richard D Harris

Another Jazz Event

It was a perfect summer evening in upstate NY and the church had a large tent they use for Vacation Bible School. They left it up for my event, and took down the dividers and put card tables up for an evening of music and entertainment. The church worked hard at advertising and 'word of mouth'. The tables were decorated beautifully by the Pastor's wife and crew. Although there were not as many as they wished, it was a wonderful evening, and everyone who came expressed appreciation for effort of providing the music and evening.

Some lessons learned:
1. Try to keep abreast of local events and things that might be a conflict with the church event.
2. Encourage people to be asking and reminding people about the event, and then make one last call to help them remember that they said they were coming to the event.
3. Don't worry about who is there or who is not there. Leave those things in the Lord's hands.... he is much better at it than we are!

On the whole the program I presented gave the church some ideas on how to do it 'next time', and tweek things to have things ready for the next event.

I love doing this, and I am gratified that the church family were so very enthusiastic.