OK, if you came here looking for that sappy poem “Billy Peeble’s Christmas” that I usually put on my annual Christmas poetry blog, you’re going to be disappointed. Even Lillian rolled her eyes when I headed for my office to start writing. She didn’t say much, but I got the hint — aren’t you tired of that by now? Isn’t …
It’s Saturday of Christmas weekend, and it feels like it’s Christmas Eve. If it seems like Christmas falling on a Monday (and Christmas Eve on a Sunday) seems unusual, it’s because it hasn’t happened for a while. Because of a quirk in the calendar (a few leap years), we’ve gone 11 years without a Monday Christmas, the last one happening in 2006. …
I’d be lying if I said James W. Foley was one of my favorite poets. Hokey might be the best word to describe him (but kind of wonderfully hokey). Foley, North Dakota’s longtime Poet Laureate — way before current Laureate Larry Woiwode — has been dead 75 years now, but there’s a renewed interest in his work, as evidenced by a series …
Well, every year about this time, in past years, Lillian and I would get together and draft a “Christmas Letter,” which we would then take to the print shop, have it printed on fancy paper, buy a bunch of colored envelopes and a whole lot of stamps, spend hours addressing each envelope by hand and writing personal notes on the …