by Ray Day
(As published in Collectilbes Canada - Nov/Dec 2001)

An electric Lionel train appeared under our Christmas tree
when I was young lad of five. Dad assembled the track and
for hours, eye to eye with that old steam engine,
I pretended to travel the world.

Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs set my imagination
into a fever pitch. But the one sure thing about Christmas
each year was the cold journey to Midnight Mass.

With Christmas came memorable smells -
Boston Tea cookies, butterscotch pie, and because of our German descent,
anis would permeate the house
when Mother prepared the Springerly cookies.

One Christmas I built a 1' x 2' model of a house. Inside
was an engagement ring for Eileen. She accepted the ring
and we lived in that "house" for 30 years. Today, in our new home, an 9-foot Christmas tree is my pride and joy - covered
with hundreds of ornaments from the past.

But perhaps the poem I wrote last year about
the Day family antique crèche figures best relates
my feelings of Christmases past and present.

By Ray Day

Small plaster figures sit on our hearth,
They're essential as Christmas grows nigh.
Each year I arranged them with childlike care,
Since they're fragile - and older than I.

There is Joseph and Mary and Jesus too,
Together they tell an old story,
Of a babe born two thousand years ago;
How He rose to fame and glory.

As we look back through all those years
Tales of faith, hope and love are told -
Of caring and sharing through laughter and tears;
He changed lives around the globe.

God loved us enough to give us His son
That's the truth that really frees us
To celebrate the birth and give thanks for the gift
And say Happy Birthday Jesus!