‘Twas the Night Before the Morning After

'Twas the Night Before the Morning After

By Dave Barry (The Miami Herald, December 1, 1996)

'Twas the night before Christmas … or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or whatever religious holiday your particular family unit celebrates at this time of year via mass retail purchases.

And all through the house … Not a creature was stirring … except Dad, who was stirring his third martini—in a losing effort to remain in a holiday mood, as he attempted to assemble a toy for his 9-year-old son, Bobby. It was a highly complex toy. A toy that Dad did not even begin to grasp the purpose of. A toy that cost more than Dad's first car. A toy that was advertised relentlessly on TV with a little statement in the corner of the TV screen that said “SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED.” (Which was like saying that the Titanic sustained “some water damage.”) Because this toy had more parts than the Space Shuttle.

And speaking of space … Dad was now convinced that extraterrestrial life DID indeed exist, because the assembly instructions were clearly written by beings from another galaxy. And these beings insisted on Phillips screwdrivers. And Dad could not find his Phillips screwdriver. In fact, he was wondering who “Phillips” was and why he needed a different kind of screwdriver than everybody else. That was the festive holiday thought that Dad was thinking as he took a slug from his martini and attempted to attach Part 3047-B to Part 3047-C using a steak knife. But other than that, not a creature was stirring in the house.

Although Mom was definitely stirring OUT of the house. Mom was at the Toys “R” Us store. In fact, this was the fifth Toys “R” Us store that Mom had been to that night in her desperate quest to find the one thing that their 5-year-old daughter, Suzy, wanted this holiday season. It was, of course, a Barbie doll. But not just ANY Barbie doll. It had to be the new model, “Abdominals Barbie”—the one who came with her own little pink “stomach muscle” exercise device. It was the hottest Barbie doll of all this holiday season. Every girl age 3 through 12 in the entire United States HAD to have it or her holiday season would be RUINED!

And so of course the Mattel Corporation, which is run by evil trolls from Hades, had manufactured exactly eight units of this doll. And the very last one in the world was in this particular Toys “R” Us. Which means that the odds were against Mom, because on this same festive night thousands of other frantic parents had converged on this same store [kind of like the flesh-eating zombies in the movie “Night of the Living Dead,” only less ethical]. The store was a war zone. Mom had to fight her way into the doll aisle, where, wielding a Tonka Truck like a club, she claimed her prize! And then, trailed by a screaming mob of rival parents, she raced from the store, leaped into her car, and roared out of the parking lot—barely missing the Salvation Army person.

She raced back to the house, burst through the front door, and staggered into the family room, where she found Dad … Actually she found Dad's feet. The rest of Dad was under the sofa. A strange gurgling sound was coming from down there. Dad, now on his fifth martini, was trying to strangle the dog—which, Dad was convinced, had eaten Part 8675-Y.

And just at that very moment … Out on the lawn there arose such a clatter … That Dad let go of the dog. And he and Mom went to the window to see what was the matter.

And what to their wondering eyes should appear … But Santa Claus, yelling the names of reindeer … “Now Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Vixen! Now ... Umm ... Now ... Dancer!”

“He already said Dancer,” observed Dad.

“He can't remember them all,” said Mom.

“I think one of them is Pluto,” said Dad.

“Wasn't Pluto the guy who was always fighting with Popeye?” said Mom.

“You're thinking of Bluto,” said Dad.

“Now ... Umm ... Now Flicka!” said Santa.

“Flicka was a horse, that I DO know,” said Mom.

“Do you think the reindeer are wrecking the lawn?” said Dad.

“They're going up on the roof,” said Mom.

“Like heck they are,” said Dad, who had recently spent $875 on shingle repair. But before he could yell at St. Nicholas to stop … Down the chimney the jolly elf came with a plop!

He had a broad face and a round little belly, that shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. (Which was pretty gross.)

“What's so funny?” asked Dad.

“You two,” said St. Nick. “Why are you getting all upset about toys? The holiday season isn't about material possessions!”

“Do you have kids?” asked Mom.

“Well, no,” said Santa.

“Hah,” said Mom.

“But I am beloved by children the world over,” said Santa.

“Well,” said Dad, “you won't be beloved by our son if I can't assemble this toy.”

“What seems to be the problem?” said Santa, coming over to have a look.

“I'm stuck on Step 824,” said Dad.

“Who wrote these instructions?” asked Santa. “Martians?”

“Apparently,” said Dad.

“I used to be pretty good with tools,” said Santa. “Hand me that steak knife.”

“Sure,” said Dad. “Care for a martini?”

“Heck yes,” said Santa.

And so he went to work. And after a while Mom and Dad, exhausted, went to bed, leaving old St. Nick in the family room. He said some pretty unsaintly words, but he eventually got Bobby's toy assembled. And although he spent so much time that he was unable to visit the rest of the little boys and girls in North America … not to mention South America, Europe, Asia, and Africa, this particular household had a very happy Christmas morning indeed.

Suzy came downstairs and saw Abdominals Barbie, and Bobby came downstairs and saw his incredibly complex toy, which he broke in under four minutes—a new holiday record. But it was still a festive day … Especially when Mom and Dad told the fantastic story of their late-night visitor—which, at first, the kids did not believe. In fact, even Mom and Dad were not 100 percent sure it had happened … Until Dad got out the ladder. And one by one they climbed up to the roof. And there they saw it ... As real as life ... A Holiday Miracle ... Reindeer poop! (And $1,097.36 worth of shingle damage.)

Merry Christmas!!

Magical Monkeys and Milk Chocolate Christmas

Growing up in my family, Christmas was always a celebrated event. My parents were children when the Great Depression began in late 1929, so they both grew up understanding what it meant to be poor. Their families worked hard, but with large families and difficult economic conditions, there was little money to spend on fancy toys and pretty dresses that children often dream about. However, they had their families, and in their love they were happy and contented.

My mother doesn’t remember feeling poor, because everyone they knew was in the same financial condition. They grew their own food, and traded for things they did not have. Mother grew up in the warmth of a loving family. Perhaps because of her meager possessions as a child, or perhaps just because she loved the happy memories of Christmas morning, warm coal stoves, and oranges and peppermint candy … my mother always worked hard to make Christmas an extra special day for each of her children.

I remember my mother hand flocking her own Christmas tree with our old canister vacuum—white clouds of fluffy snow filling the carport, as she sprayed the green branches of our freshly cut Christmas tree. While most of the neighborhood decorated their Christmas trees with traditional colored twinkle lights, candy canes, and silver icicles … Mom was a trend setter and liked modern, designer trees with big red and purple balls, soft white lights, and coordinated wrapping paper. She’d paint Christmas scenes on the front window and hang twinkle lights around it. And there was the Christmas sewing. Throughout December, Mom’s Singer sewing machine could be heard late into the night, long after we were asleep. On Christmas morning there would be new pajamas, Christmas dresses, and doll clothes, skillfully made with her two hands.

Dad used to tease mother and bark in a loud, gruff voice, “Christmas … Humbug,” with a twinkle in his eye. But he’d work hard for extra money to give mom for the shopping, and we knew he enjoyed Christmas as much as we did.

As the big day got closer he’d jokingly question my mother, “Is Santa bringing anything special to Linda?”

They had a communication code in front of the children because Christmas secrets and surprises were part of the anticipation of the long awaited day. Mother would reply, “Yes dear, Santa is bringing her a D … O … L … L,” spelling the letters of my secret gift.

“A what?” Dad would say. And then it would suddenly click in his head what she’d spelled out, and he’d blurt out loud, “Oh, … a doll!”

“Milt!” my mother would exclaim shaking her head and hoping I hadn’t heard. They were like a hysterical comedy team of players and I loved the dance between them.

On one particular Christmas I wanted a monkey. I imagined having a “real” live monkey—a blackish-brown, furry, clothes wearing chimpanzee—like in the popular 1965 Disney movie, “The Monkey’s Uncle,” (with Tommy Kirk and Annette Funicello), that created the hit song by the same name. I was a young naive teenager, as well as an Annette Funicello fan, and having a pet monkey around sounded like a blast. After all, it worked for Annette. 

The monkey was the main item on my Christmas wish list. My mother pointed out how impractical having a real monkey around the house would be and the improbability of ever sharing our home with such a smelly animal. I understood, but kept it on my list just in case ole’ “Santa” had a change of heart.

Right before Christmas, Dad came home with a package of two-inch “milk chocolate” Santa’s—colorfully wrapped in foil Santa suits. My younger brother and I were wide-eyed and curious. Chocolate candy was rare in our home. Were they for us?

The next morning we discovered the mouth watering Santa’s had been placed on specific presents under the tree, identifying Dad’s gifts to each of us. We were so excited! I could hardly wait to find out what Dad’s special gift to me would be. We knew our parents were the real Santa’s, of course, and that mom did the majority of the Christmas shopping. So to have a special gift marked just from Dad, was a thrill we hadn’t expected. I counted the days until Christmas.

On the long awaited day there were stockings hanging on the fireplace—filled with candy and small toys. There were wrapped presents galore and several opened Santa gifts, waiting to be discovered under the tree. I looked around curiously for my monkey and wasn’t surprised to find him missing-in-action among the hall of Santa gifts. It was a glorious Christmas morning full of surprises and shouts of joy. I saved the best for last—my gift from Dad, wanting to savor the chocolate Santa and whatever the contents of my gift would be. Much to my surprise, attached to the present was a note written in Dad’s scribbled hand, explaining Santa could not bring my monkey, but hoped the gift would take it’s place. I ripped off the wrapping paper—revealing a huge, furry, blackish-brown, thumb sucking, stuffed, toy monkey—wearing rubber white tennis shoes. I was in love—with the monkey for sure, but mostly I was filled with love for my Dad and his desire to fill the wishes of my young impressionable heart.

Now, as I prepare for Christmas for my own family, I try to create the memorable traditions of my youth—the designer Christmas tree and coordinated wrapping paper, Christmas lights, and Christmas surprises. It’s not about the money or material possessions … It’s about the magical feeling … creating a special day and being with those you love on “His” special day. I like to fill the stockings with small toys and special trinkets—like my mother did. And I try to find the Christmas magic—with that one special surprise under the tree … Like that “Magical Monkey and Milk Chocolate Christmas” so long ago.

The Twelve Gifts of Christmas

"On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me … A partridge in a pear tree!"  

Some early traditions believe that this famous Christmas song was used as a “teaching tool” to instruct young people in various denominations of the Christian faith. It was written in England for young Catholics in the days when it was illegal to practice or teach the Catholic Faith. It contains hidden symbolism intended to help children remember lessons of faith. Instead of referring to an earthly suitor, the “true love” mentioned in the song really refers to God. The “me” who receives the presents is symbolic of every baptized person. Even without the symbolic connotation, the song is a playful piece that loses none of its appeal when taken at face value.

1. A Partridge in a Pear Tree: The partridge in the pear tree represents Jesus on the cross. The bird imagery can also be seen as symbolic of Christ’s teaching “as hen doth gather her brood under her wings.” ~ Luke 13:34

2. Two Turtle Doves: The two turtledoves represent the Old Testament and the New Testament.

3. Three French Hens: The three French hens symbolize the members of the Godhead: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Alternately, they represent the three virtues: Faith, Hope, and Charity (or Love). ~ 1 Corinthians 13:13

4. Four Colly Birds: The four colly birds (“colly” is an old word for black) stand for the four Evangelists—Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John—or the four Gospels they wrote.

5. Five Golden Rings: The five gold rings correspond to the first five books of the gospel, sometimes referred to as the Pentateuch.

6. Six Geese A Laying: The six geese a-laying refer to the six days of the creation. ~ Genesis 1:31; Exodus 20:11

7. Seven Swans A Swimming: The seven swans a-swimming suggest the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (Romans 12:6-8). Alternately, the seven swans represent the seven sacraments recognized by some faith traditions.

8. Eight Maids A Milking: The eight maids a-milking signify the eight Beatitudes from Christ’s Sermon on the Mount. ~ Matthew 5:3-10

9. Nine Ladies Dancing: The nine ladies dancing embody the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit. ~ Galatians 5:22-23

10. Ten Lords A Leaping: The ten lord’s a-leaping denote the Ten Commandments. ~ Exodus 20: 3-17

11. Eleven Pipers Piping: The eleven pipers piping represent the eleven faithful disciples. ~ Luke 6:13-16; Acts 1:26

12. Twelve Drummers Drumming: The twelve drummers drumming are symbolic of the twelve doctrines in the Apostles Creed: Belief in the Father, Belief in the Son, Virgin Birth, Atonement, His Ministry after Death, His Ascension to Heaven, His Role as Judge, Belief in the Holy Ghost, Belief in the Church, Forgiveness of Sin, Resurrection, and Eternal Life. ~ Excerpts taken from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir 2009 Newsletter

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” ~ Norman Vincent Peale

What is a Little Boy?

They make you laugh, they make you cry. You marvel at their antics while they drive you crazy! You worry about them—yet you can’t resist loving the little boys in your life.

As a mother, YOUR little boy is always your "favorite" little boy of all!



A Little Boy is—TRUTH with dirt on his face,


BEAUTY with a cut on his finger,


WISDOM with bubble gum in his hair,


AND HOPE of the future with a frog in his pocket!


~ Author Unknown

“A little boy is the only thing God can use to make a man.” 

~ Author Unknown


Happy Birthday Cordale!