Merry Christmas

              …From The Past


Artistic Nature

Yes. Dropped from the sky, a vision of the past. In my past my grandfather was an engineer on the Great Northern Railroad. I was quite proud of that. At every railroad track where we were required to wait while the train rumbled past, we watched carefully and hollered out, “There’s one!” at every Great Northern car that passed.

In Doctor Zhivago (the movie) a train carrying Trotsky goes rumbling past at great speed while the whistle screamed. It was breathtaking.

Trains were the arteries of the past, pumping magic and mystery along with the great turning wheels and screeching brakes. Every child dreamed of jumping onboard one of the open cars to be carried like a bum onto the next town. In my dreams sometimes I still see a railroad station where I stand, waiting for the next zephyr to come screaming down to take me somewhere, somewhere as yet unseen. And it’s always snowing, sometimes for Christmas.

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Books and Books and Books


And this glorious assortment has created a dilemma: How shall I then proceed? Which of these is to be the first? The general approach so far has been to work my way through by starting all of them to see which will endure. Poetic, yes? Sometimes it’s difficult to tell poetic from silly. In this case—as in many— it doesn’t matter. 

It’s hardly believable. In the Kline Weihnachten tradition—Little Christmas, the feast of the Epiphany or feast of The Three Kings—there was yet more to celebrate. Firstly, my daughter arrived so we could feast together. And we did. There were more packages than there should have been but is that not always the truth? The greatest of all was the plethora of books. Unbelievable! Especially in addition to the four of Christmas Eve.