"Christmas 1881" Posted by Mot at TNT
TNT:
Mot: Christmas 1881
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their
means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were
genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him
that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve, 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the
world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy
me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that
night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we
could read in the Bible.
TNT:
Mot: Christmas 1881
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their
means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were
genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him
that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve, 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the
world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy
me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that
night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we
could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the
fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling
sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read
Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and
went outside.
I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the
chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in
self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in
his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out
tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for
Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason
that I could see.
We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of
anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I
knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them
to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat,
and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave
the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the
work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going
to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We
never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was
already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him.
The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy.
When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of
the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high
sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a
bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever
it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came
out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down
from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What
was he doing?
Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you
doing?" "You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow
Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or
so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure,
I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in
the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That
was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for
another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I
began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it.
Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house
and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and
told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying
a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in
his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes.
Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he
was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy
too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to
think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards.
Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was
still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split
before we could use it.
We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that,
but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and
candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer
neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as
quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door.
We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt... could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped
around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting
in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat
at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of
flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had
the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out, one pair
at a time.
There was a pair for her and one for each of the children -
sturdy shoes, the best... shoes that would last. I watched her carefully.
She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her
eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she
wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said,
"Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size
and heat this place up."
I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had
a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears
in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around
the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her
cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my
soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had
made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of
these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids
started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen
looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long
time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the
Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send
one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up
in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but
after Widow Jensen mentioned it, I could see that it was probably true. I
was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started
remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many
others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed
when they all fit, and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then
I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord, that the Lord would make
sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to
leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. ... They
clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their
Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to
invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey
will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if
he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about
eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here,
hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest... my two
brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to
say, may the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't
even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said,
"Matt, I want you to know something. Your Ma and me have been tucking a
little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for
you, but we didn't have quite enough.
Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your Ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a
little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood alright... and my eyes became wet with tears again. I
understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle
seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He
had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her
three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a
block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I
felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a
rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
Don't be too busy today... share this inspiring message. Merry Christmas
and God bless you!
When Massachusetts Banned Christmas
.When Massachusetts Banned Christmas
Christopher Klein
Ebenezer Scrooge and the Grinch had nothing on the 17th-century Puritans, who actually banned the public celebration of Christmas in the Massachusetts Bay Colony for an entire generation.
The pious Puritans who sailed from England in 1630 to found the Massachusetts Bay Colony brought with them something that might seem surprising for a group of devout Christians—contempt for Christmas.
In a reversal of modern practices, the Puritans kept their shops and schools open and churches closed on Christmas, a holiday that some disparaged as “Foolstide.”
When Massachusetts Banned Christmas
Christopher Klein
Ebenezer Scrooge and the Grinch had nothing on the 17th-century Puritans, who actually banned the public celebration of Christmas in the Massachusetts Bay Colony for an entire generation.
The pious Puritans who sailed from England in 1630 to found the Massachusetts Bay Colony brought with them something that might seem surprising for a group of devout Christians—contempt for Christmas.
In a reversal of modern practices, the Puritans kept their shops and schools open and churches closed on Christmas, a holiday that some disparaged as “Foolstide.”
A Puritan governor disrupting Christmas celebrations.
After the Puritans in England overthrew King Charles I in 1647, among their first items of business after chopping off the monarch’s head was to ban Christmas. Parliament decreed that December 25 should instead be a day of “fasting and humiliation” for Englishmen to account for their sins.
The Puritans of New England eventually followed the lead of those in old England, and in 1659 the General Court of the Massachusetts Bay Colony made it a criminal offense to publicly celebrate the holiday and declared that “whosoever shall be found observing any such day as Christmas or the like, either by forbearing of labor, feasting, or any other way” was subject to a 5-shilling fine.
Why did the Puritans loathe Christmas? Stephen Nissenbaum, author of “The Battle for Christmas,” says it was partly because of theology and partly because of the rowdy celebrations that marked the holiday in the 1600s.
In their strict interpretation of the Bible, the Puritans noted that there was no scriptural basis for commemorating Christmas.
“The Puritans tried to run a society in which legislation would not violate anything that the Bible said, and nowhere in the Bible is there a mention of celebrating the Nativity,” Nissenbaum says. The Puritans noted that scriptures did not mention a season, let alone a single day, that marked the birth of Jesus.
To continue reading, please go to the original article here:
https://www.history.com/news/when-massachusetts-banned-christmas
15 Ways to Safe Guard Sudden Wealth
15 Ways to Safe Guard Sudden Wealth
In this Alux.com video we will be answering the following questions:
What to do with money?
What to do if you suddenly get money?
What to do if you inherit a large sum of money?
15 Ways to Safe Guard Sudden Wealth
In this Alux.com video we will be answering the following questions:
What to do with money?
What to do if you suddenly get money?
What to do if you inherit a large sum of money?
What to do if you win a large sum of money?
What to do if you win a fortune?
What to do after you sell your company?
00:00 - Intro
00:46 - Don’t tell a soul!
01:35 - Get rid of high interest debt immediately!
02:10 - Max out your retirement
02:49 - Instead of paying off your house: 75% of it should go towards rental properties
03:42 - Instead of going on holiday: 10% to alternative investments with proven track record
05:20 - Get an accountant or tax advisor to make sure everything is by the book
05:59 -Don’t screw around - now you have something to lose
06:44 - Control your spending urges
07:51 - Consider inflation and adjust for it
08:40 - You gotta get smart about money
10:10 - Consider the lifetime cost of ownership for the things you buy
11:44 - Do not give away parts of the principal to your family or friends
12:42 - Do not give away a portion of it to charity
14:20 - Move the money out of the country
15:14 - Develop a vision for the rest of your life
Thoughts From DJ: “Desire and Desperation”
DJ: DID YOU KNOW?
There is a difference between desire and desperation. Wanting and wishing for something to happen doesn’t make it come true or change reality.
I take issue with Intel providers feeding off the desperation of those who have been put into a mindset of hope they have created.
Twenty years ago most would have been happy enjoying a moment of solitude watching a good movie laying in bed. But now its become torture because we want so much more.
Excessive want is a form of desperation. It’s like our conscious state has been reduced to this toxic blend of hope and uncertainty.
DJ: DID YOU KNOW?
There is a difference between desire and desperation. Wanting and wishing for something to happen doesn’t make it come true or change reality.
I take issue with Intel providers feeding off the desperation of those who have been put into a mindset of hope they have created.
Twenty years ago most would have been happy enjoying a moment of solitude watching a good movie laying in bed. But now its become torture because we want so much more.
Excessive want is a form of desperation. It’s like our conscious state has been reduced to this toxic blend of hope and uncertainty.
The problem is how to escape this state-of-mind. Finding a balance of holding onto hope and expectations of the GCR/RV and living with our real world of life issues.
There are side effects from putting too many eggs in this basket of hope. Your family and immediate circle of influence (friends) , probably think you’ve lost your mind.
You might have quit your day-job or spent savings you thought would soon be replenished. You can become angry or hostile to anyone who questions your belief. The self induced stress can affect your health and so on.
But reality is reality whether it fits your perceptions or not. I like metaphors so here is a GCR/RV metaphor.
Imagine there is this war going on. On one side you have the good guys. The good guys are armed with everything needed to end the war. Information, solutions and mechanisms that will solve the problems. They are marching forward charged with their faith in these solutions.
They run into a minefield. On the other side of the minefield they can implement their strategies and end the war. But behind the army of good guys, coming in fast, are the bad guys , determined to end their crusade.
Faced with the minefield in front of them, volunteers are sent out to create a path for the army of good to pass through it. One at a time a soldier is sent out. The first soldier makes it about fifty feet, steps on a mine and gets blown up. The next soldier in line follows the path of the first soldier for fifty feet and he gets fifty further and gets blown up. The next soldier in line now follows the path of the first two soldiers and starts from a hundred feet out.
Ultimately they will get through the minefield but how many soldiers will be left to implement the solutions? The faster they get through the minefield the more champions of good will be left to carry out the mission.
The bad guys have planted mines everywhere, some known and some not known. There is no standing still for the bad guys will catch up. There is no going backward because you’ll run into them. The only thing left is to move forward. There are no other options.
That is why I am pretty certain this event is destined to happen. They may blow a few of us up, but there are a lot of us and they can’t stop us all.
Or they could just drop a bomb on the minefield and things start tomorrow.
DJ
"Bits and Pieces" Posted by Mot at TNT
Mot: Sunday School teacher began her lesson with a question
A Sunday School teacher began her lesson with a question, "Boys and girls, what do we know about God?"
A hand shot up in the air. "He is an artist!" said the kindergarten boy.
"Really? How do you know?" the teacher asked.
"You know - Our Father, who does art in Heaven... "
Mot: .... "I know what the Bible means!"
A father was approached by his small son who told him proudly, "I know what the Bible means!"
His father smiled and replied, "What do you mean, you 'know' what the Bible means?
The son replied, "I do know!"
"Okay," said his father. "What does the Bible mean?"
"That's easy, Daddy..." the young boy replied excitedly," It stands for 'Basic Information Before Leaving Earth.'
****************
Mot: A Glass Of Milk...............
To pay for his education, a poor boy used to sell goods from door to door. One day, the young boy found he was really hungry but had no money to buy any food. He decided to ask for something to eat when he knocked on the front door of the next house.
A beautiful young woman opened the door, and the boy lost his nerve. He simply asked for a drink of water, too embarrassed to ask for food. The young woman brought him a glass of milk, which the boy greedily drank.
The boy asked her how much he owed, but she simply smiled and said her mother had taught her to be kind to others and never expect anything in return. The young boy left the woman's home with a full tummy and a heart full of renewed strength to push on with his education and continue working hard. Just when he was ready to quit, the woman had instilled in him newfound faith and fortitude.
Years later, in a big city, renowned surgeon Dr. Howard Kelly was called to consult on a woman who was suffering from a rare disease. When the woman told him the name of the small town where she lived, Dr. Kelly felt a faint memory arise in his mind, and then suddenly recognition dawned on him. She was the woman who had given him the glass of milk many years ago.
The doctor went on to provide the woman with the very best care and made sure she received special attention. In fact, it was his skills as a doctor that saved her life. After a long and difficult hospitalization, the woman was finally ready for discharge home. The woman was worried it would take her years to settle her account with the hospital. Her serious illness and long hospital stay had produced a substantial bill. However, when she received the bill, she found that Dr. Kelly had paid the entire bill himself and written a small note for her.
The note simply stated: Paid in full with a glass of milk.
Mot: . Not Sure What Direction I should Gogh
Mot: ... and Now Ya Knows - WHO!!!!
How Popeye’s Obsession With Spinach Was Created From Glaring Misprint
How Popeye’s Obsession With Spinach Was Created From Glaring Misprint
Mistake from scientist led to signature feature of iconic cartoon
Popeye reaches for a can of spinach in a still from an unidenitified Popeye film, c. 1945. (Image by Paramount Pictures/Courtesy of Getty Images) (Paramount Pictures, Getty Images)
One of the most iconic cartoons of all time is “Popeye the Sailor,” and believe it or not, there is a day that has been created to honor the fictional character.
That day is today, but before any fans of the cartoon delve into celebrating Popeye The Sailor Man Day, they might not know how spinach consumption became the source of Popeye’s strength and a signature staple of the cartoon.
How Popeye’s Obsession With Spinach Was Created From Glaring Misprint
Mistake from scientist led to signature feature of iconic cartoon
Popeye reaches for a can of spinach in a still from an unidenitified Popeye film, c. 1945. (Image by Paramount Pictures/Courtesy of Getty Images) (Paramount Pictures, Getty Images)
One of the most iconic cartoons of all time is “Popeye the Sailor,” and believe it or not, there is a day that has been created to honor the fictional character.
That day is today, but before any fans of the cartoon delve into celebrating Popeye The Sailor Man Day, they might not know how spinach consumption became the source of Popeye’s strength and a signature staple of the cartoon.
****************
It actually came about due to a mistake from a scientist.
The illustrator of the cartoon, E.C. Seegar, chose spinach as the source of Popeye’s strength — and the way to get energy to defeat the bad guys — mainly because he read on a label that spinach had lots of iron in it.
The problem was that it didn’t have as much iron as Seegar thought.
In 1870, German chemist Erich Von Wolfe wrote up that spinach contained 35 milligrams of iron per 100-gram serving, but he misplaced a decimal point.
He meant to write it up as 3.5 milligrams, and that wasn’t corrected until 1937. But by then, Popeye had well been established as a series of cartoons (it started to be shown in theaters in 1933).
In fact, Popeye was credited with saving the spinach industry in the 1930s because the cartoon was credited with creating a 33% increase in sales, according to Business Insider.
Of course, it’s not like spinach is a bad vegetable for Popeye to consume for strength.
It’s loaded with an assortment of vitamins, minerals, nutrients and antioxidents that have a numerous health benefits, including reducing the risk of damage to the brain and nervous system, maintaining gastrointestinal health, muscle growth, bone and skin health, helping with vision and keeping blood sugar stable.
There are also some potential side effects of consuming spinach, and both pros and cons are listed in this article by MedicineNet.
But as fans of Popeye pay tribute today, the tale of his obsession with spinach is a life reminder that sometimes glaring mistakes can lead to incredible success stories.
Graham Media Group 2024
To continue reading, please go to the original article here:
POPEYE® THE SAILOR MAN DAY | January 17
POPEYE® THE SAILOR MAN DAY | January 17
POPEYE® THE SAILOR MAN DAY
January 17 marks the 95th Birthday of the world’s most famous spinach loving, nautical hero — it's Popeye the Sailor Man! Today, we are taking epic strides to honor this legendary sailor who is tough and fit with tons of grit, as one of America’s most renown, pop-culture icons. After all, he yam what he yam!
#PopeyeTheSailorManDay
Popeye is the seeming underdog with bulging forearms, a mean uppercut, and a love of canned spinach. He is a defender of the weak and protector of those he loves. As the embodiment of strength and fitness, Popeye inspires us all to work hard, care for others, be persistent, and stay strong to the finish. Of course, all with the help of a hefty amount of spinach. In 2024, we are celebrating 95 years of this iconic figure, and the timeless inspiration Popeye has brought to billions of people.
Popeye was created by Elzie Crisler (E.C) Segar and made his first appearance in the comic strip "Thimble Theatre" on January 17, 1929. Originally created as a minor character, Popeye quickly became a super star. By 1938, the comic changed its name to “Popeye,” creating one of the most iconic cultural comic strips of all time.
POPEYE® THE SAILOR MAN DAY | January 17
January 17 marks the 95th Birthday of the world’s most famous spinach loving, nautical hero — it's Popeye the Sailor Man! Today, we are taking epic strides to honor this legendary sailor who is tough and fit with tons of grit, as one of America’s most renown, pop-culture icons. After all, he yam what he yam!
#PopeyeTheSailorManDay
Popeye is the seeming underdog with bulging forearms, a mean uppercut, and a love of canned spinach. He is a defender of the weak and protector of those he loves. As the embodiment of strength and fitness, Popeye inspires us all to work hard, care for others, be persistent, and stay strong to the finish. Of course, all with the help of a hefty amount of spinach. In 2024, we are celebrating 95 years of this iconic figure, and the timeless inspiration Popeye has brought to billions of people.
Popeye was created by Elzie Crisler (E.C) Segar and made his first appearance in the comic strip "Thimble Theatre" on January 17, 1929. Originally created as a minor character, Popeye quickly became a super star. By 1938, the comic changed its name to “Popeye,” creating one of the most iconic cultural comic strips of all time.
Popeye has appeared in 1000s of comic strips, over 600 cartoon episodes, and over 100 books since his creation. Today, he has over 9.6 million followers on social media! Popeye is ingrained in pop culture and is one of the most recognizable and beloved cartoon characters in the world.
15 Fun Facts about Popeye®
Popeye is 10 years younger than Olive Oyl! He walked on to her strip, “Thimble Theatre,” as a bit character in 1929 and became so popular the strip was eventually renamed “Popeye.”
Before spinach became the source of Popeye’s super strength, his power came from rubbing the head of a magical Whiffle Hen named Bernice!
Popeye is known as Braccio di Ferro (“Iron Arm”) in Italy, Karl Alfred in Sweden, and Skipper Skraek ("Terror of the Sea") in Denmark.
Popeye made his silver screen debut on July 14, 1933 appearing in the Betty Boop cartoon entitled "Popeye the Sailor." The cartoon was produced by Fleischer Studios and distributed by Paramount Pictures.
The song "I'm Popeye the Sailor Man" was released in 1933. Composed by Sammy Lerner, the song gave birth to one of Popeye’s most famous catch phrases “I’m strong to da finich ‘cause I eats me spinach.”
Popeye is recognized for his influence on America's spinach consumption, so much so that Crystal City, TX, the Spinach Capital of the World, erected a statue in his honor in 1937.
The Popeye Village in Malta was developed for the 1980 Popeye movie starring Robin Williams. The village still exists today and has grown into a major tourist attraction in the Maltese Islands.
Popeye has inspired many iconic pop-artists over the year, including Andy Warhol (1961), Roy Lichtenstein (1961) and Jeff Koons (2002).
In Summer 1976, Tokyo based Magazine House launches the “Popeye” magazine. The magazine was the first fashion and lifestyle magazine to be published in Japan that targets young, Japanese men. The magazine is named “Popeye” because the creator’s son was a fan.
In 1957, Popeye’s balloon first appeared in the Macy’s Day parade. Interestingly, Olive Oyl became the first female balloon to join the parade in the early 1980’s.
Popeye was featured as the Google Doodle in 2009 to honor creator E.C. Segar’s birthday.
Popeye is a clean ocean advocate and ambassador for ocean conservation and clean up organization known as The SeaCleaners.
Chester, IL, the birthplace of Popeye creator, E.C. Segar, honors hometown hero the Popeye & Friends Character Trail. Every year, granite statues representing the wide cast of characters from Segar’s Thimble Theatre cartoon strips are added to the trail throughout the city.
Good Housekeeping’s Nutrition Lab awarded Popeye the “Good Housekeeping Nutritionist Approved Emblem” in their January/February 2024 issue to celebrate his decades-long commitment to healthy eating, fitness as well as his efforts in ocean conservation. Popeye is the first "person" to receive this honor.
New Popeye comic strips are still released weekly! You can find the latest strip by Randy Milholland at ComicsKingdom.com.
To continue reading, please go to the original article here:
https://www.nationaldaycalendar.com/national-day/popeye-the-sailor-man-day-january-17
The Little White Envelope
.TNT:
Mot: THE LITTLE WHITE ENVELOPE:
"It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past ten years.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas. Oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it – overspending and the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma – the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
TNT:
Mot: THE LITTLE WHITE ENVELOPE:
"It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past ten years.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas. Oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it – overspending and the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma – the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was on the wrestling team at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.
Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids – all kids. He so enjoyed coaching little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came.
That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes, and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed a small, white envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done, and that this was his gift from me.
Mike's smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year. And that same bright smile lit up succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition – one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.
The white envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children – ignoring their new toys – would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the small, white envelope never lost its allure.
The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree. And the next morning, I found it was magically joined by three more. Unbeknownst to the others, each of our three children had for the first time placed a white envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing to take down that special envelope.
Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit will always be with us."
For the Man Who Hated Christmas
(A true Christmas Story by Nancy W. Gavin, December 2015)
A Brief History of How Nutcracker Dolls Became A Christmas Symbol for the Ages
A Brief History of How Nutcracker Dolls Became A Christmas Symbol for the Ages
Around the start of December, it’s not unusual to see decorative nutcrackers on store shelves, arranged on mantelpieces, hanging from Christmas trees, and even decorating holiday sweaters. For some, their colorful outfits, hand-painted faces, and tufts of white hair are the very definition of Christmas cheer. But have you ever wondered how these nutcrackers got to be so popular, and why people usually only bring them out at Christmastime? The answer involves German literature, a Russian ballet, and lots of generous American G.I.s.
From Basic to Beautiful
Humans have been using tools to crack nuts for thousands of years. The earliest designs were merely two pieces of wood joined by leather or a metal hinge, but as the centuries progressed, artisans started to create figurative designs for nutcrackers, such as brass crocodiles in India and cast-iron squirrels in England.
A Brief History of How Nutcracker Dolls Became A Christmas Symbol for the Ages
12 | 14 | 2020
Around the start of December, it’s not unusual to see decorative nutcrackers on store shelves, arranged on mantelpieces, hanging from Christmas trees, and even decorating holiday sweaters. For some, their colorful outfits, hand-painted faces, and tufts of white hair are the very definition of Christmas cheer. But have you ever wondered how these nutcrackers got to be so popular, and why people usually only bring them out at Christmastime? The answer involves German literature, a Russian ballet, and lots of generous American G.I.s.
From Basic to Beautiful
Humans have been using tools to crack nuts for thousands of years.
The earliest designs were merely two pieces of wood joined by leather or a metal hinge, but as the centuries progressed, artisans started to create figurative designs for nutcrackers, such as brass crocodiles in India and cast-iron squirrels in England.
Wood remained a popular material, and by the 18th century, carvers in Switzerland, Austria, and northern Italy were making fanciful wooden nutcrackers that looked like human and animal heads, sometimes with moving lower jaws.
The nutcrackers best known in America today come from Germany. In fact, they often come from a particular region in Germany, the Erzgebirge — a mountain range near the border with the Czech Republic. Erzgebirge is German for “ore mountains,” and for many years the region was home to rich deposits of silver, tin, uranium, and more. Starting around the early 1700s, as some of the deposits ran out, miners began crafting nutcrackers, toys, and glass ornaments as a way of supplementing dwindling mining income.
By around 1800, the earliest versions of the toy nutcracker dolls so familiar to us today started to appear in Erzgebirge workshops. It’s said that the woodcarvers chose figures of authority for these dolls — soldiers, policeman, politicians — because the common people enjoyed putting toy versions of their overseers “to work” by having them crack the “hard nuts of life.”
Originally, these nutcrackers had no specific association with Christmas, and it’s not clear exactly when such a link began. But the seasonal significance makes some sense when you consider they were created in workshops alongside toys and games that were often given as gifts. Some have also suggested that a link arose because nuts are an important component of German holiday baking.
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https://www.triviagenius.com/a-brief-history-of-nutcrackers/X9egyuv_UAAGBswc
Santa Claus Images History
Santa Claus Images History
Lorraine Boissoneault December 19, 2018
A Civil War Cartoonist Created the Modern Image of Santa Claus as Union Propaganda
Thomas Nast is legendary for his political cartoons, but he’s also responsible for the jolly St. Nick we know today
You could call it the face that launched a thousand Christmas letters. Appearing on January 3, 1863, in the illustrated magazine Harper’s Weekly, two images cemented the nation’s obsession with a jolly old elf. The first drawing shows Santa distributing presents in a Union Army camp.
Santa Claus Images History
Lorraine Boissoneault December 19, 2018
A Civil War Cartoonist Created the Modern Image of Santa Claus as Union Propaganda
Thomas Nast is legendary for his political cartoons, but he’s also responsible for the jolly St. Nick we know today
You could call it the face that launched a thousand Christmas letters. Appearing on January 3, 1863, in the illustrated magazine Harper’s Weekly, two images cemented the nation’s obsession with a jolly old elf. The first drawing shows Santa distributing presents in a Union Army camp.
Lest any reader question Santa’s allegiance in the Civil War, he wears a jacket patterned with stars and pants colored in stripes. In his hands, he holds a puppet toy with a rope around its neck, its features like those of Confederate president Jefferson Davis.
A second illustration features Santa in his sleigh, then going down a chimney, all in the periphery. At the center, divided into separate circles, are a woman praying on her knees and a soldier leaning against a tree. “
In these two drawings, Christmas became a Union holiday and Santa a Union local deity,” writes Adam Gopnik in a 1997 issue of the New Yorker. “It gave Christmas to the North—gave to the Union cause an aura of domestic sentiment, and even sentimentality.”
The artist responsible for this coup? A Bavarian immigrant named Thomas Nast, political cartoonist extraordinaire and the person who “did as much as any one man to preserve the Union and bring the war to an end,” according to General Ulysses Grant. But like so many inventors, Nast benefitted from the work of his fellow visionaries in creating the rotund, resplendent figure of Santa Claus. He was a man with the right talents in the right place at the perfect time.
Prior to the early 1800s, Christmas was a religious holiday, plain and simple. Several forces in conjunction transformed it into the commercial fête that we celebrate today. The wealth generated by the Industrial Revolution created a middle class that could afford to buy presents, and factories meant mass-produced goods.
Examples of the holiday began to appear in popular literature, from Clement Clarke Moore’s 1823 poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (more commonly known by its first verse, “Twas the night before Christmas”) to Charles Dickens’ book A Christmas Carol, published in 1843. By the mid-1800s, Christmas began to look much more as it does today.
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At a Gas Station on a Cold Christmas Eve............
A NEW CHRISTMAS STORY . . .This story is better than any greeting card.
The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been
anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to
him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate.
He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last
hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless
man stepped through.
Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his
customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank
you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy,
I'll just go."
"Not without something hot in your belly." George said.
A NEW CHRISTMAS STORY . . .This story is better than any greeting card.
The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been
anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to
him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate.
He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last
hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless
man stepped through.
Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his
customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank
you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy,
I'll just go."
"Not without something hot in your belly." George said.
He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger.
"It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew ... Made it myself. When you're
done, there's coffee and it's fresh."
Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me,
be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy.
Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you
help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with
child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block
looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead.
"You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.
"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George
as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old
truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the
garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was
waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever
looked at, but she runs real good."
George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into
the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the
truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ." George
thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos
was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he
got something in his belly," George thought.
George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It
cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the
truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do.
Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the the block hadn't
cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can
fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on.
"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the
snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't
going to drive the car anyway.
As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a
police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left
shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."
George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had
received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention.
"Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been
there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct
tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said,
trying to make the policeman feel at ease.
"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for
his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the
policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance."
The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there
talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone
into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.
He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the
officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the
area."
George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the
Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check
for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya.
Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your
gonna be right as rain."
George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked.
"None for me," said the officer.
"Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no
donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.
The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun.
"Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was
shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this
before.
"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.
"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon
away. Somebody else might get hurt."
The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now
give me the cash!"
The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to
the cop, "we got one too many in here now."
He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you
need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that
pea shooter away."
George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man,
reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released
his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good
at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he
went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last
week."
George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now
and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we
can."
He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from
the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup
of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in
here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort
this thing out."
The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot
you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."
"Shut up and drink your coffee " the cop said.
George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an
ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn.
"Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.
"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"
"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the
other cop asked as he approached the young man.
Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just
dropped his gun and ran."
George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.
"That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued.
"Yep," George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."
The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man
leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"
Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks
for everything."
"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve
some of your problems."
George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a
ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha
would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."
The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw.
"I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."
"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories.
That's all I need."
George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared
next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's
something for that little man of yours."
The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old
man had handed him earlier.
"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that
too," George said. "Now git home to your family."
The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in
the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."
"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."
George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you
come from? I thought you left?"
"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say
you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"
"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother
was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin'
cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and
besides I was gettin' a little chubby."
The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the
holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold
and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great
doctor.
The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by
terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and
not take any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it
as good as any man."
George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know
all this?" asked the old man.
"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when
your days are done you will be with Martha again."
The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have
to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."
George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the
stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill
the room.
"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."
George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord Jesus"
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND GOD BLESS!