The Poetry Of Christmas

I'm not a poem guy. I like song lyrics. I write song lyrics.
But I've never been one to sit down and enjoy a good poem. I'd rather watch a football game.
Over the years, as an editor, I've received resumes from job applicants, and included in their portfolio are poems. That's the kiss of death for their application.
I don't want poets. I want journalists who can go get news.
Readers often send us poems, which we rarely, if ever, publish. We do annually publish William Randolph Hearst's "The Song of the River." We publish it on the editorial page to commemorate our company founder's death in 1951.
You can find it here if you want to look at it:
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/opinion/236387_wrhriver14.html
But today, I'm not writing about that poem, or even poems in general.
I'm writing about the one poem I'm willing to put in my blog. It comes from the mother of a soldier serving in Iraq. If this inspires you to send me a poem, just put it in the comment part of this blog entry.
It is a poem of sadness, and I can relate to some sadness regarding a loved one this season, for my dad is lying in intensive care in a Houston facility, the victim of a cruel, surgery-related stroke that has left him paralyzed, dazed and fighting for his life.
I'm not going to write song lyrics about that anytime soon, I hope.
But I am going to give you the poem of a lonely Southeast Texas mother, Cindy Yohe, without her son for this Christmas. I can't imagine the worry that comes from having a child serving in that horrible situation.
Her poem is for all of us who, during a season of joy, have a little sadness in our hearts, a little something missing.


For Lance Corporal Christopher R. Yohe, USMC
currently serving his second tour in Iraq

If I had but one Christmas wish you’d be home this year,
to help me hang the outside lights and trim the tree with cheer.
You’d hold the ladder as I climbed up to place the Santa at the top,
kidding me that the tree’s too big and this obsession has to stop.

You’d make your famous green bean dish…never reveling your secret spice,
and ensure that our turkey was the largest bird that the store had pound for price.
You’d give me the perfect Christmas card, wrap the presents and tie the bows,
and make it all seem like it’s no big deal but a mother always knows.

I know you that you won’t be coming home to help me with the tree.
I know that you’ll miss the time we share with our friends and family.
I know that what you’re doing now is the most important thing you’ve done,
and that this Christmas I won’t be the only mom without her Marine Corps son.

I will set a place for you at our table and ask for your safety in our dinner prayer,
The same words I’ve prayed for all our troops who are serving with you there.
And if I have but one Christmas wish you’ll be home next year,
to help me hang the outside lights and trim the tree with cheer.

This Whole CNN Thing Is Silly

It is not breaking news that racism exists in Vidor, as it does in Lumberton, Bridge City, Beaumont, Port Arthur, all of Southeast Texas, the state, nation and world.
I've heard many people make racially insensitive remarks. I also get the sense that racism also cuts both ways in Southeast Texas.
It is wrong, and we need to continue working together toward resolution.
But this CNN-sponsored race discussion, slated for tomorrow night in Beaumont, is nothing more than a opportunistic pounce on an issue whose hot button is luke warm, at best.
There was no horrific catalyst. Other than a relatively recent Klan attempt at a march, Vidor has pretty much stayed out of the media's racism limelight for quite some time now. This isn't like the fifth anniversary of the James Byrd Jr. slaying, for which the media spotlight again shined on Jasper.
Considering that tragedy, it was warranted. But Vidor? Why not Cleveland just north of Houston, where a Klan leader lives?
In other words, it's old news and a misplaced spotlight, and CNN, fueled by a razor-thin news peg, has put itself squarely in the story's middle and is driving the issue forward.
CNN could go anywhere in the South and find the same story, trotting out the likes of the Rev. Jesse Jackson, an admitted philanderer and creator of his own racially insensitive comments.
This so-called "town-hall discussion," billed as some kind of high-minded exercise in mutual understanding and cultural sensitivity, seems little more than CNN's capitalization on the light controversy that erupted over the recent airing - or the curious non-airing as it turned out here, due to some technical mishap - of a program that included a segment on Vidor.
I could see the CNN folks sitting around, coming up with story ideas, thinking about racism and then going after the ol' low-hanging-fruit standby that is Vidor.
Someone inside the Southeast Texas television media told me today that people working for news personality Paula Zahn called the station to ensure that a crack makeup artist would be available for pre-show preparations.
I think that speaks volumes about the real purpose behind CNN's efforts.

Oh, Those Cold, Impersonal Christmas Cards

I don't like cards.
I'm a writer, so I'd like to think I can come up with something better than the Hallmark folks. I almost never buy cards for other people, and I have to force myself to read the cards I get from others, on the off chance they might actually have found the card to perfectly express their thoughts and emotions.
I make some exceptions for Christmas cards.
Typically, moreso when I was single, I'd buy the cheapest box of cards I could find and then actually WRITE something to the intended recipient. I avoided being long-winded, like some folks do, penning every significant event of the past year.
Yawn.
What's even worse is when people type up and mass produce some tedious description of the past year. I rarely read those to the end.
I've also never liked the ones that have pre-printed names on them, "From John and Mary." Thanks for the sentiment, but I'd rather you sign it yourselves. At least that has some hint of a personal touch.
In recent years, we've been sending out cards that are pictures of our kids. I like it when people send me pictures of their kids or entire families. Then I can see how much the kids have grown and whether someone has gone to pot. Just admit it. That kind of stuff makes us feel better about ourselves, right?
I'm sure my card targets have yukked it up over my photos.
Besides, isn't half the fun of a high school reunion being able to see what people look like now?
Last year, our Christmas card was a picture of our kids looking bewildered as they stood atop the mammoth log pile in our front year. The pile was from the trees that fell on our house and yard during Hurricane Rita.
That picture pretty much summed up our year.
My favorite Christmas greetings are the gag ones I've been exchanging with a college buddy and his wife for years. I don't even remember them all, but they've been very funny.
Mocking a Christmas card of a mutual friend, I sent him one with the signature so small that it needed a magnifying glass to see it. He responded with a card with no signature at all, only a haphazardly designed greetings with some strange mugshots of he and his wife. Their greetings were better than ours for the first few years, although we did get them good with "Merry Christmas" written in small type on 50 yards of newsprint I stole out of the pressroom. I also sent it certified mail so that he had to drive all the way to the post office to get it.
But we killed them last year. Using my eight-track digital recorder, my wife and I came up with a new version of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland," only we called it "Living in the Dallas Metroplex."
The singing is horrible and off-key, and the lyrics can't be printed in a family blog such as this one. But it was hilarious.
We have no plan for this year, but we are expecting some strong retaliation from their camp this Christmas.
As for other kinds of greetings, don't get me wrong. I like to have a big set of Christmas cards to display every year. It kind of shows how many people we know and that they're still thinking of us. So even if I've hurt your feelings by mocking your card style, don't hesitate to send us cards again this year.
The only ones I don't display are the ones from politicians and government entities. I've gotten Christmas cards from George W. Bush, Rick Perry, lietenant governors, U.S. senators and all sorts of people. I guess their public relations folks just go down their contacts list and send off a card.
I think the cards are OK, and at least they're better than what I received today: an e-mailed Christmas card from someone I've never met. Based on the sender's e-mail address, I discovered that the Clayton family is connected to the Better Business Bureau. Further research revealed the Michael Clayton is president and CEO.
He certainly has a nice-looking family:
http://img469.imageshack.us/img469/5998/christmascardvc5.jpg
I think it's swell of the Claytons to think of me this time of year, albeit via e-mail.
Because there's no return address, I can't really mail them a card. I could look it up, but somehow I don't think they'd care all that much.
I suppose the best I can do is send an e-mailed response containing the link to this blog. Or maybe I'll just let them find out via word of mouth.
So here's to you, Claytons.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Still Batty

Well, the bats are still there, or at least one of them is.
A few times, like this morning, I've come back from my run to find one bat still trying to get into the belfry.
It has to be the same bat. I've decided to name him Dopey.
Dopey seems to have trouble getting himself into the overhang. He'll circle around over and over and then attempt a landing, only to bonk his head or something and get repelled. Circle. Bonk. Circle. Bonk. Circle. Bonk.
Then he finally finds the sweet spot and gets in. I suspect he was one of the bats that terrorized the inside of the house last week. Unable to find the sweet spot, he and a buddy flew down the chimney and into the master bedroom.
But Dopey can't do that now, because last weekend I put up some wicked metal screening. If Dopey thought bonking his head on the wall was unpleasant, just wait until he bumps into the frayed edges of the screening. Poke!
I'm not as fearful of the little fellas as I was last week, and now that they can't get down the chimney, I'm not in a hurry to evict them. I sent a photo of one of the bats to the Bat Conservation International office in Austin, and they told me that it was a Big Brown Bat.
They're certainly the cutest bat. Unlike some of these hideously ugly bats that only a mother bat could love, Big Brown Bats have these sweet little Teddy bear faces.
My plan now is to wait a few weeks to see if they migrate, which they are supposed to. If they've decided to make the overhang their home, well, then they need to go, and I'll have to set up some kind of netting system that will allow them to leave but not return.
Dopey won't know what to do with himself.

Bye Bye Bats

The sight of bats circling our master bedroom last week will never fade from my memory. It is as strongly imprinted as the memory of sitting in the mouth of the Beaumont Enterprise early Sept. 24, 2005, and watching Hurricane Rita powerwash the world.
And, like Rita, the bats seem to have come and gone.
I haven't seen or heard a squeak out of them since last week's cold front blasted through. I even got onto the roof Saturday and pounded on the roof overhang's underside to see if they'd make any noise.
They didn't.
It made me happy that I hadn't spent hundreds of dollars days earlier to have a pest-control specialist get rid of the bats, which I identified to be Mexican free-tails, which I had read were migratory.
There are several ways of getting rid of bats, and none is easy. What I learned from Internet research - and calling around Southeast Texas, including the Texas A&M extension agent in Hardin County - is that you pretty much have to do the job yourself. Most bug companies won't touch the job.
The pest specialist I called out wanted to drill holes in the overhang's underbelly and then scoop in a crystal material called Bat Away. You've heard of moth balls. Well, this was pretty much bat balls, emitting a smell that annoys and drives away bats.
But he wanted to do it during the day, which seemed silly because they would be there, all 80-plus of them. Why not wait until nighttime, when there would be, at worse, only a couple of lazy bats who didn't feel like going out for the night?
His company also wanted to charge as much as $500.
However, the best way to get rid of the bats, it seems, is to create a system of one-way nets. Bats check out, but they can't check back in.
With the cold front approaching, I figured it would be best to wait a day to do anything, and I'm glad I did. They apparently have taken off, most likely bound for Mexico, where they'll get fat and happy off the tropical bugs and, I assume, stop back by in the spring en route to wherever they spend their summers.
Judging by the guano that dropped out from between boards while the pest-control man was poking around where the bats were hanging out, I'd say our home has been a bat rest stop for years.
But no more.
When they come back in the spring, they're going to get a little surprise. They'll arrive to find their comfy bat-itat caulked shut. I've even screened up the top of the chimney so none of the wayward fellas can create further morning mayhem in our home.
I've gained some respect and lost some fear for the little buggers. They're kind of cute, and they're important to the environment.
But starting next year, they'll be doing it from someone else's house.
I hope it's the home of one of these neighbors whose dogs run lose and bark at all hours of the night.
That would be sweet.

http://img57.imageshack.us/img57/2868/sbelfryyw3.jpg