New Years Eve

We’re almost there. We are saying goodbye to the old year and welcomed in the new. We've been celebrating endings and beginnings since ancient times.

The tradition of New Years Eve celebrations also stem from old beliefs and superstitions. Noise making goes back to the ancient custom of using loud noises to drive evil spirits from a house during the times of festive celebration.

Many nationalities and cultures still use noise to celebrate. America has her ratchet rattles and noise makers and fireworks.

Denmark smashes in the New year. People go to friends' houses and throw bits of broken pottery that they have collected throughout the year at the houses. They also bang on the doors to make noise.

The Dutch love to celebrate New Years. It was one of their favorite holidays when they settled New Amsterdam in the mid-17th century. When the English took over the city in 1674 and called it New York, the authorities were going to keep to the British custom at the time which called for celebrating the New Year on the Vernal Equinox, March 25th. The Dutch populace so loved the holiday on January 1st, they convinced the British to move their New Year celebration.

Traditions have to start somewhere. The ball dropping tradition at New York's Times Square began in 1904 when the Times tower was constructed. At the time it was New York City's 2nd tallest building, rising to a height of 375 feet.

Adolph Ochs, the then young publisher of the New York times, moved his paper into the new building on New Year's weekend and decided to celebrate the event with a New Year's eve rooftop fireworks display.

It was spectacular, but it was dangerous. The following year the fireworks were replaced by the descending brightly-lit ball.

A tradition begun.

Great Expectations

Some thoughts on this coming New Year.

Beginnings always have an expectation. Where do we go from here? What happens next?

In 2010 there is hope these hard times for so many will end with a job and a decent wage for all who seek it.

The first decade of the new millennium is over and we are still searching for a global sanity. There are still over 32 regional wars infecting the planet as we struggle with the belief that security should come from common sense and not fear.

There is always hope in the litany of Pandora troubles that are part of our daily struggle, but let us not forget that hope without action is arrogance. We each have to work at finding harmony in chaos.

It's there, we can feel it when we give from empathy and not reward.

When we resolve not to be discouraged, not to speak in anger, not to blame, and not to judge without the truth of looking within first.

Maybe this is the year that unconditional love and appreciation will guide the hearts and wills of humankind.

Maybe!

Merry Christmas

Christmas Time

© 1995 Rolland G. Smith

Some poetic thoughts on Christmas.

Christmas time surprises as it jumps out from the cold

to warm the late December days with frankincense and gold

It heralds in with music, in the silent of the night,

and when it wakes the child within my memories are bright.

It’s wrapping hearts in holly green and Rudolph red with bow

and standing ‘neath a berried sprig of kissing mistletoe.

Dancing dreams of sugarplums and minted candy cane

bring visions of a Christmas tree and a circling tooting train.

.

I harken as the angles sing with distant family near

and I love to hear a child say the names of eight reindeer.

Patina thoughts of Christmas past and shinny ones of new

remind me of the Magi three and a child named Jesu.

There’s jingle bells and icicles and packages to tie

with ribbons tight and wrappings bright of sleighs up in the sky,

There’s hugs galore and candy more and kids with favorite toys

and shirts and socks and building blocks for little girls and boys.

There’s cards and calls and carols and candles fill the room

and tins of sugar cookies shine by red poinsettia bloom.

Christmas time indeed surprises in a special wondrous way

in winter and forever it’s my favorite holiday.

Sleigh Ride

With this day of new cold and the year coming to an end. I want to share with you a poem I call "Sleigh Ride." It took place in Danbury, Connecticut many years ago.

A weathered barn in withered red,

stands clear with in memory,

and every time it starts to snow

old thoughts return to Danbury.

It was a barn like no other,

mystic, magic, somehow serene

With tack and harness set in place,

yet something else that can't be seen.

An inner warmth, an eminence,

an aura shine you cannot view,

perhaps the light of keeper's soul

the one who mends and tends unto.

This heart of his and equine heat

oft' stays the cold of winter's sting

and keeps the frost from off the bells

that trim the reins and give the ring.

In boarded stall, the horses sense

the quiet fall of downy flake.

They paw the straw and perk an ear

and gently give their heads a shake.

Across the way, past field white,

'top harvest chaff and stubble hay,

children question with excitement,

"Sir, are you hitching up the sleigh?"

The answers quick with pure delight,

"The team is set to trot the snow",

said the smiling friendly neighbor,

a child too, who wants to go.