Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow lived one hundred and twenty years ago. He was an American poet, educator, and linguist. I’ve tried to read some of his work, but my brain doesn’t comprehend some of that “ye old school prose.” However, I find Mr. Longfellow an interesting fellow. One thing he did write that we all know is,

Listen, my children, and you shall hear

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five;

Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year?

His first wife, Mary, at age twenty two had a miscarriage and died just three years into their marriage. Longfellow busied himself writing and teaching at Harvard. He became one of the first to publicly support abolitionism and wrote a book for the New England Anti-Slavery Association.

Longfellow found love again and married Frances Appleton on July 13th 1843. They had five children and for eighteen years Longfellow went about his business of father, writer, and teacher.

1861 would be a year he wouldn’t forget. In early spring his nation went to war. For the first time in the countries short history, Americans were killing Americans. While bloody battles covered his beloved land he witnessed an unthinkable event.

His wife was trimming their seven year old daughter’s hair. Afterwards, Frances wanted to save a few clippings. She tucked the hair in an envelope and grabbed candle used for sealing. Hot wax fell on her dress. Henry heard screams from the other room. He ran to find his wife engulfed in flames, grabbing a rug, he covered her up, but it was too late. She died a painful death and Henry was helpless only to watch her suffer. His burns were so bad he couldn’t attend his wife’s funeral. Now, not only was he a widower, he was a single dad who had to cope with a seven year old daughter who saw her mother die doing motherly things.

If you ever see a picture of Longfellow, you’ll notice his full beard. It’s not a fashion statement, it’s because the burns left his face too painful to shave.

The world went on and so did the war.

Henry always kept journal and the Christmas after his wife’s death he wrote, "How inexpressibly sad are all holidays."

The next Christmas Henry wrote, "'A merry Christmas' say the children, but that is no more for me."

I’m just speculating, but I bet Henry was sick of the war and tired with life. Americans were dying, his heart hurt, and his country was falling apart. Just before Christmas he received word that his son had been severely wounded in battle. A bullet went through his chest and left him with a spinal injury. On Christmas day, Henry wrote nothing in his journal. The man who found words so easy to come by was silent. His craft was no longer worth his time. He outlived two wives, his son shed blood in this never ending war and peace seemed only a dream.

I don’t know what demons he battled or how he overcame such a personal tragedy, Henry picked up his pen on Christmas Day, 1864.

These words were written in his journal.

I heard the bells on Christmas day their old familiar carols play and wild and sweet the words repeat of peace on earth, good will to men. I thought how, as the day had come, the belfries of all Christendom had rolled along the unbroken song of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head, “There is no peace on earth,” I said, “For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; the wrong shall fail, the right prevail with peace on earth, good will to men.'

Till ringing, singing on its way the world revolved from night to day, a voice, a chime, a chant sublime of peace on earth, good will to men.

My list of 10

Every year we suffer through countless Christmas songs on the radio. And I do mean suffer. Radio stations start playing Christmas music before Thanksgiving, which leaves mostly rubbish in heavy rotation. I will ignore such insignificant songs like, “I’ll Be Stoned for Christmas,” and “Daddy don’t get drunk this Christmas.” What I’m after is the traditional stuff; the kind of music we’re told is classical Yuletide fair. Here’s my list of the 10 worst Christmas songs ever.

Number 10- The Twelve Days of Christmas

This song goes back to the 16th century where it should have stayed. A laundry list of nonsense is what it is. If my true love sent me nine ladies dancing I would have to question our relationship and where it’s headed. And what is a lord a’ leaping anyway?

There have been several spinoffs to this song, Twelve Days of a Redneck Christmas, Bob and Doug’s Twelve Days, Twelve Pains of Christmas, and each one more annoying than the last. Enough, it’s not funny.

Number 9- Last Christmas

Do you know this is the most recorded Christmas song of all time? My next question is why? I can’t listen to it without thinking of George Michael and his solicitation charge in a men’s room. Please let this be the last Christmas we have to hear this song.

Number 8- Oh Christmas Tree

The problems with this song are multifold. To begin with it’s also sung as, “O Tannenbaum.” Google the lyrics and you’ll find about 15 different versions, all of them pay some sort of homage to a tree. Here’s a sample,

“O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, your branches green delight us. O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, your branches green delight us. They're green when summer days are bright;
They're green when winter snow is white. O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
Your branches green delight us!”

Obviously the words come from a deranged environmentalist nut-job who refuses to accept the baby Jesus. While the rest of the world sings praises to the King, this clown is out in the forest snorting pine needles.

Number 7- Feliz Navidad

How many times can you repeat the words, “Feliz Navidad”? Answer, quince (15).

Number 6- Blue Christmas

Nothing gets you in the holiday mood like the blues. This song makes you want to stand under the mistletoe, pull the trigger and eat the bullet. Elvis, you should’ve been ashamed of yourself.

Number 5- Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer

Rudolph was the product of a promotional gimmick by Montgomery Ward. How is it that the department store no longer exists, but this idiot reindeer get street cred each and every Christmas? It was lame when I was 5 and nothing has changed.

Number 4- Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer

This song is what Rudolph begat. The writer was no doubt a latchkey child with mama issues. Only in America can something so stupid get mass air play. We’re a nation of knuckleheads.

Number 3- Jingle Bell Rock

The lyrics start off weak and tail off from there. The opening verse goes,

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring
Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun”

And I thought I wrote drivel. I could do a 500 word essay on why I hate this song. This mindless ramble gets more air play than Bing Crosby. If I had to sum it up in one word, “worthless.”


Number 2- Rockin’ Around the Christmas tree

I don’t know what drives me crazier; the lyrics or the tune? Just the first few cords of this tripe irritate me, nails on a chalkboard sound better than this ditty. This song is over 50 years old and it gets air play for reasons still unknown. The last two lines of this moronic rhyme goes.

“Everyone dancin' merrily,
in the new old-fashioned way.”

The new old-fashioned way? Spare the oxymoron, give me a barf-bag, I’m about to lose my pumpkin pie!


Number one- I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus

Let’s examine the lyrics

I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night.
She didn't see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peep;
She thought that I was tucked up
in my bedroom fast asleep.

Then, I saw Mommy tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white;
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.

You can trace the roots of our downfall to this song. The message is quite clear. It’s okay for mommy to have an affair. The kid in the song thinks it’s funny that old dad plays the sap role. Since the kid saw mommy kissing Santa, it wouldn’t be out of reach to see her kiss the milkman or some guy named uncle Mike, who’s never at any family functions.

There are several layers to this lyrical Freudian repression.
• What about Mrs. Claus?
• Is Santa the ultimate sugar daddy?
• If Santa is kissing every mom in town, is mommy nothing more than a concubine?
• Being Santa is an authority figure does sexual harassment come into play?
• What constitutes naughty and nice?

The trust issues will haunt this child well into his/her teenage years. This song was written in the late 50’s it’s no wonder college students of the 60’s were so angry, their mother was a tramp and daddy was a fool.


Before you think I’m a scrooge there are some great Christmas songs. Oh Holy Night sung by Michael Crawford will make your hair stand up. If you haven’t heard his version, do yourself a favor and click here.

I heard the Bells on Christmas Day is the most underrated song of all time. Several artist have covered it, my favorite is by the Jars of Clay. Click here and give it a listen.

The Little Drummer Boy never gets old. Check out this live performance by The Jars of Clay. It was recorded at the Ruth Eckerd Hall and it’s about the best I’ve seen. Click here.

Problems? What problems?

We find ourselves in an odd predicament thanks to Santa Claus. Lets be honest, Santa was hijacked years ago by aggressive marketers to guilt right thinking people into buying anything while disguising it as “the holiday spirit.” Department stores basically survive on sales made after Thanksgiving and before December 24^th. In other words, Santa is on life support during a recession, and dare I say, “Last rites,” if we hit a depression.

Has Santa Claus turned into Sinister Claus? We’re slammed with commercials telling us to buy that perfect gift, which by the way is on sale. We’re told how special the holidays are, so, “show your wife you love her with a diamond bracelet.” I’ve seen, as you have, the ad with a new car wrapped in a bow waiting for the trophy wife to see on Christmas morning. What planet are these people from? Or better yet, what have we become?

Maybe St. Nick needs to take one for the team. Perhaps this economy is a way to right the ship and place priorities where they count. Gifts we buy are temporary at best, but gifts we have last throughout our existence. There is no price tag on health, family, and freedom. However, we cruise through life taking each one for granted, while getting bent out of shape if our computers run slow. Admittedly, I’m the worst at this, so I’m not preaching to you as much as I’m preaching to me.

There’s no doubt Christmas will be tough this year, and maybe it should be. What better way to ground our thinking than a good old fashion depression? It just might make us appreciate one gift, instead of, I don’t know, 4, 5, 8, or whatever numbers we’re accustom too. Maybe we’d learn to love a gift that’s a pair of underwear, or work jeans, being we can’t afford them ourselves.

We’ve had it too easy for too long. Most of us have been blessed with prosperity and haven’t a clue what, “hard times” mean, including me. My prediction is we’re all gonna find out. That’s the bad news, but don’t panic, we can survive.

If we play out the worst case scenario, how bad can it get? Cable T.V. and this wonderful Internet would definitely be a casualty. Families may have to move in together, like the old days, just to make ends meet. A car might be repossessed and credit ruined. Maybe a bread line or soup kitchen is in our future, who knows? Maybe if we had to live like that we could get back to our roots as human beings. Meaningful conversations with each other would occupy our time. We might get to know our next door neighbor. And by golly we might even learn to read and write again.

The old saying, “its only money” would actually mean something.

Walk through a children’s cancer center. Visit a burn unit. Go to an orphanage. Odds are you’ll feel pretty lucky (blessed) walking in your shoes.

Know this, as long as we’re Americans, we’ll always have Christmas. It just might come from a different angle. Or perhaps not, because we’ll have to give ourselves to each other and isn’t that what Christmas is all about?