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Show " BY ROY HOWDY FOLKS It's the Christmas season again and we never tire of this traditional celebration although at times it's hard to get in the spirit of things, what with all we live with these days. Sometimes this all gives rise to the question, ques-tion, "Is it really worth it?" I for one, believe it is. But then, maybe I haven't been as ish ar.gle over his curly black hair. At the battle of Chancel-lorsville, Chancel-lorsville, the Confederates had driven the Union forces back but Company A was decimated and out of ammunition. Col. Van Home Ellis pointed back toward the Confererate line at some dead mules upon whose backs ammunition boxes were strapped. He said he sorely iriea as some 01 wnom we all know. For all my many blessings, I am indeed thankful thank-ful and realize, that only through the grace of God, is this so. There have been to date, more than thirty thousand American lives lost in the Vietnam Viet-nam struggle and more to come. Of course there are hundreds hun-dreds of thousands who will be spared, but this is small .consolation .con-solation to those who have loved ones there. It will be a bleak Christmas for many of . the boys over there. For these men who are old enough to fight, but too young to vote, one can only say, "These are the bravest of the brave." There are some who are not so brave and have fled to Canada and other distant points, or else stay home, grow long hair, wear ridiculous clothing and burn their draft cards. But we are not discussing discus-sing the dissentors right now. We are more interested in the brave ones, and rightly so. About fifty years ago, General Gen-eral John J. Pershing said off the record that Sergeant Ser-geant York was not the bravest L man in the United States Expeditionary Ex-peditionary Force, even though . York had earned the Medal of Honor. Pershing said he was convinced that the sergeant was devoid of fear. "The bravest soldier," he said, "is the one who crouches in the trench, shivering, sweating, sweat-ing, beset by cramps as he waits the word to go over the top. When it comes, he goes." Courage is difficult to define. Too much of it is a form of wuumn i. asK iui volunteers ior no man could take it alive. Tom Bradley held up his hand. I'll go," he said. Before anyone could stop him, he was running through an open field. Tasting victory ,the Confederates Confed-erates watched in amazement. As Bradley picked up a heavy box of ammunition, 200 guns were aimed at his head. Tom Bradley faced them and began be-gan to walk backward toward his lines. The Southerners were puzzled. Then the word passed: "The boy doesn't want to die shot in the back. Hold your fire." He was an easy mark but the soldiers in gray took off their hats and shouted as he made his Way safely to his own lines. Courageous ? Crazy ? The war between the states had more examples of gallantry than any before or since. The bullets Bradley carried were intend in-tend 5d to kill the men who didn't have the heart to kill him. In the same battle, General Gen-eral Hooker, using binoculars, saw a Confederate soldier lying between the lines with a leg shot off. "He'll bleed to death unless we get to him quickly," the general said. Three buck privates pri-vates and the officer crouched and ran. They were under heavy cross-fire but they got the man, made a sling of a blanket, and brought him back to the Union lines. The Christiains of medieval Rome chose to be thrown to the lions rather than renounce their religion. These were brave people for they laid down their lives for a conviction. that they slipped it away and printed it anonymously in the Troy Sentinal, December 23, 1823. Years later when the popularity of the poem was assured, as-sured, it was placed in the volumes vol-umes of Professor Moore's other oth-er poems. You may know the poem by the title, "T'was the Night Before Be-fore Christmas." I never tire of hearing it read, for to me, it is synonymous with an evergreen ever-green tree strung with strands of popcorn and the paper angel on the top and for a while at night, the candles would be lighted, one by one, and we stood in awe of the Christmas tree as it shimmered in it's beauty. And the smell of oranges or-anges in the house (a once a year thing), and freshly baked bread, and spices and all manner man-ner of good things to eat and smell and enjoy. If we had baked chicken, or fried salt pork, who cared? It was Christmas, wasn't it? I guess you really don't have to be brave to believe in Christmas. All you have to do is to believe in God and Christmas Christ-mas will just naturally come, just as sure as the sun will come up in the morning. Well, "MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YA'ALL.' insanity. Too little is cowardice. The skinny kid who stands up to the big bully is to be admired, ad-mired, but he is about to get clobbered. In the Civil War, there was a kid named Thomas W. Bradley. Brad-ley. He was a handsome kid and wore a blue cap at a rank-i The bravest man I ever saw was one year old. He sat in a barber chair and refused to cry, and his lower lip trembled like a leaf in the breeze. His mind must have been hysterical hyster-ical with fear, but he sat quiet- I don't claim to much courage cour-age but almost every day of our lives, we must muster up some degree of courage to face some situation, sometime, somewhere. some-where. And what does all this have to do with the Christmas season sea-son which is upon us? I say it has this to do with it: Courage is the essence of faith, and when folks lose faith, they have already lost courage. And if faith is lost, there will be no more Christmas. And if Christmas Christ-mas is lost, then those who say "God is dead," will have won. If the spirit of Christmas is ever lost, then the people have lost sight of God, for Christmas IS God, and God IS Christmas. May it ever be so. And what Christmas would be complete without the reading read-ing of the poem, "A visit from St. Nicholas." Prom my childhood child-hood I have loved this poem which was written in 1822 by Clement C. Moore who was a professor of Biblical learning in the General Theological Seminary of New York. He wrote this poem to please his own children, and his friends thought so much of the poem |