The tail end of the year
was concluding on an upbeat note
even though the new year would see Nixon inaugurated as President
However we had the balls to circle the moon
with no certainty of getting back
My big brother John was still in the service
I had a part beagle part dachshund named Tiny for a pet
Christmas was warm and fuzzy
with a Grandpa on the Shockley side
and a last Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa on my mom`s Burnham side
On Christmas Eve the Astronauts read from the book of Genesis
and spiritualists everywhere felt something deep inside
with the thought of the vision of that big blue marble
viewed while orbiting the moon
It was a year in which MLK and RFK were shot
equal tragedies and equal unrest
two newspapers a day and three television networks
to document this evolution
I remember purchasing a transistor radio
for my brother as a gift
it was a prequel to my love of radio
and eventual career in that field
I remember nine volt batteries
you could test their strength with your tongue
We had orange colored electric candles
to put in the windows of our home
on Southwest eleventh street
I loved the colored glow they would emit
I also loved the little brown fragile
nativity scene that we would put up
always taped together with scotch tape
on a bed of cotton ball snow
Over the river and through the woods on Christmas Day
to Grandmothers house we would go
her name was Mamie
Grandfathers name was John Pearl
my other Grandfathers name was Harry Wingfield
How I loved to play in the snow
and explore an old barn that is no more
and its ancient secrets and musty smells
All of these parts of my childhood
have influenced me and the words that I write and remember
The rip and tear gift openings on Christmas Eve
so quickly we opened gifts
how swiftly we reached the point
where we settled back to watch home movies
Each Christmas to this day I look at the sky
searching for that Christmas star
that bright shining star high above my backyard
These feelings are why I always long to Christmas in Des Moines
no matter how old I am
or who is left or is not left
I am the glow of those electric orange candles
I am the softness of that cotton ball bed of snow
I am the message that the Astronauts read to the world
that Christmas Eve 1968
was concluding on an upbeat note
even though the new year would see Nixon inaugurated as President
However we had the balls to circle the moon
with no certainty of getting back
My big brother John was still in the service
I had a part beagle part dachshund named Tiny for a pet
Christmas was warm and fuzzy
with a Grandpa on the Shockley side
and a last Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa on my mom`s Burnham side
On Christmas Eve the Astronauts read from the book of Genesis
and spiritualists everywhere felt something deep inside
with the thought of the vision of that big blue marble
viewed while orbiting the moon
It was a year in which MLK and RFK were shot
equal tragedies and equal unrest
two newspapers a day and three television networks
to document this evolution
I remember purchasing a transistor radio
for my brother as a gift
it was a prequel to my love of radio
and eventual career in that field
I remember nine volt batteries
you could test their strength with your tongue
We had orange colored electric candles
to put in the windows of our home
on Southwest eleventh street
I loved the colored glow they would emit
I also loved the little brown fragile
nativity scene that we would put up
always taped together with scotch tape
on a bed of cotton ball snow
Over the river and through the woods on Christmas Day
to Grandmothers house we would go
her name was Mamie
Grandfathers name was John Pearl
my other Grandfathers name was Harry Wingfield
How I loved to play in the snow
and explore an old barn that is no more
and its ancient secrets and musty smells
All of these parts of my childhood
have influenced me and the words that I write and remember
The rip and tear gift openings on Christmas Eve
so quickly we opened gifts
how swiftly we reached the point
where we settled back to watch home movies
Each Christmas to this day I look at the sky
searching for that Christmas star
that bright shining star high above my backyard
These feelings are why I always long to Christmas in Des Moines
no matter how old I am
or who is left or is not left
I am the glow of those electric orange candles
I am the softness of that cotton ball bed of snow
I am the message that the Astronauts read to the world
that Christmas Eve 1968
