Christmas Misc..

[Teresa]

[Teresa]

The True Story of Ruldoph

A man named Bob May, depressed and brokenhearted, stared out his drafty apartment window into the chilling December night.

His 4-year-old daughter Barbara sat on his lap quietly sobbing. Bob 's wife, Evelyn, was dying of cancer Little Barbara couldn't understand why her mommy could never come home. Barbara looked up into her dad's eyes and asked, "Why isn't Mommy just like everybody else's Mommy?" Bob 's jaw tightened and his eyes welled with tears. Her question brought waves of grief, but also of anger. It had been the story of Bob 's life. Life always had to be different for Bob .

Small when he was a kid, Bob was often bullied by other boys. He was too little at the time to compete in sports. He was often called names he'd rather not remember. From childhood, Bob was different and never seemed to fit in. Bob did complete college, married his loving wife and was grateful to get his job as a copywriter at Montgomery Ward during the Great Depression. Then he was blessed with his little girl. But it was all short-lived. Evelyn's bout with cancer stripped them of all their savings and now Bob and his daughter were forced to live in a two-room apartment in the Chicago slums. Evelyn died just days before Christmas in 1938.

Bob struggled to give hope to his child, for whom he couldn't even afford to buy a Christmas gift. But if he couldn't buy a gift, he was determined to make one - a storybook! Bob had created an animal character in his own mind and told the animal's story to little Barbara to give her comfort and hope. Again and again Bob told the story, embellishing it more with each telling. Who was the character? What was the story all about? The story Bob May created was his own autobiography in fable form. The character he created was a misfit outcast like he was. The name of the character? A little reindeer named Rudolph, with a big shiny nose. Bob finished the book just in time to give it to his little girl on Christmas Day. But the story doesn't end there.

The general manager of Montgomery Ward caught wind of the little storybook and offered Bob May a nominal fee to purchase the rights to print the book. Wards went on to print,_ Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ and distribute it to children visiting Santa Claus in their stores. By 1946 Wards had printed and distributed more than six million copies of Rudolph. That same year, a major publisher wanted to purchase the rights from Wards to print an updated version of the book.

In an unprecedented gesture of kindness, the CEO of Wards returned all rights back to Bob May. The book became a best seller. Many toy and marketing deals followed and Bob May, now remarried with a growing family, became wealthy from the story he created to comfort his grieving daughter. But the story doesn't end there either.

Bob's brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, made a song adaptation to Rudolph. Though the song was turned down by such popular vocalists as Bing Crosby and Dinah Shore , it was recorded by the singing cowboy, Gene Autry.  "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" was released in 1949 and became a phenomenal success, selling more records than any other Christmas song, with the exception of "White Christmas."
The gift of love that Bob May created for his daughter so long ago kept on returning back to bless him again and again. And Bob May learned the lesson, just like his dear friend Rudolph, that being different isn't so bad. In fact, being different can be a blessing.  

[Teresa]

Consequences of Facebook entries

[sixdogsmom]

Here's a great Christmas story.

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma.
I was just a kid.
I remember tearing across town on my bike
to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb:

'There is no Santa Claus,' she jeered.
'Even dummies know that!'

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been.
I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me.
I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always
went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her
world-famous cinnamon buns.

I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so.
It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm, between bites,
I told her everything. She was ready for me.
'No Santa Claus!' she snorted. 'Ridiculous! Don't believe it.
That rumor has been going around for years,
and it makes me mad, plain mad.
Now, put on your coat, and let's go.'
'Go? Go where, Grandma?' I asked.
I hadn't even finished my second world-famous, cinnamon bun.

'Where' turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town
that had a little bit of just about everything.
As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.
That was a bundle in those days.
'Take this money,' she said, 'and buy something for someone who needs it.
I'll wait for you in the car.' Then she turned
and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old.
I'd often gone shopping with my mother,
but never had I shopped for anything all by myself.
The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling
to finish their Christmas shopping.
For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill,
wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids
at school, the people who went to my church.
I was just about thought out,
when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker.
He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right
behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat.
I knew that because he never went outside for recess during the winter.
His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a
cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough,
and he didn't have a coat.
I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement.
I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it.
It looked real warm, and he would like that.
'Is this a Christmas present for someone?'
the lady behind the counter
asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.
'Yes,' I replied shyly. 'It's .... for Bobby.' The nice lady smiled at me.
I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and
wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and
ribbons(a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible)
and wrote, 'To Bobby, From Santa Claus' on it --
Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.
Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went
that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house,and she and I
crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.
Then Grandma gave me a nudge.
'All right, Santa Claus,' she whispered, 'get going.'
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down
on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the
safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open.
Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering,
beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.
That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus
were just what Grandma said they were:
ridiculous.
Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

In Grandma's Bible I also discovered that
we were on Another One's team,
A Bigger ONE, One who died to give me new life.
One who my Grandma knew about.

These truths have changed my life.
Since then, as Christmas approaches & all year through,
I keep my eye peeled for the Bobby Decker's of life.

I still have my Grandma's Bible,
I still read from my Grandma's Bible
and inside it is still the tag from
Bobby Decker's coat, it reads: $19.95.

Keep Your Eye Out for a Bobby Decker in your life
Your Christmas will be Merrier!


"He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree."

[Teresa]

[larryJ]

I had one of those "I wish I had a camera or I wish my phone wasn't dead" moments last night on Christmas Eve.  My wife and I went out to do some last minute shopping and were on the way home when we stopped at a convenience store.  I parked next to a 2005 Black Harley Davidson.  The thing was so shiny it almost hurt your eyes to look at it.  The closet dirt to that bike was on my car.  My wife went into the store and immediately came back out with a man dressed as Santa Claus.  He had 12 year old daughter with him.  It was his bike.  Once my wife got his "life history" (another term for "talks too much") he fired the bike up and the most amazing chrystal clear Christmas music came flowing out like you were next to a gang banger with a car full of amps in the trunk blasting his music.  I didn't hear what his story was or where he was going or what he was going to do, but seeing him lifted my seasonal spirits somewhat.  As they were standing there talking, I thought to myself, what with the economy and all the woes of the world today, here was a man to dressed up like Santa and drove a really neat Harley.  He could have only been going to do something good, probably for some kids somewhere.  All I can say is God bless him.

This is not something I read and retyped for the forum.  This actually did happen last night.  I wanted to share.

Larryj

[sixdogsmom]

You made me smile this Christmas morning; Merry Christmas Larry! And Merry Christmas to all! 

[Diane Amberg]

Thanks Larry, I really needed that. Big Christmas hugs to you.

[Wilma]

So, Larry, Santa Claus does exist?

I know he does.  I have been reading these stories from people that have been the recipients of kind deeds from strangers.  You just never know what Santa Claus will look like when you see him.