Our Christmases Always Involved Books

Wednesday

Christmas has come early to the Bates household: I’ve just learned that my two sons and three of my five grandchildren will be visiting us this coming week. Nine-year-old Alban from Washington, D.C. will get to spend time with nine-year-old Esmé and seven-year-old Etta from Buford, Georgia. There will also be tennis and ping-pong and music (Alban on the violin, the girls on the piano). Oh, and lots and lots of reading.

Books have always been an integral part of Bates Christmases. After opening our presents, we would then spend the rest of the day reading them, since they would invariably be books. I remember once being so entranced by Jane Porter’s Scottish Chiefs (the basis for the movie Braveheart) that I spent most of the night reading it.

With this in mind, I share one of my father’s poems about a bookish Christmas. How many of the books can you identify? (I’ll provide the key in tomorrow’s post.)  

A Christmas Carrel

When the students have departed
For a sunny southern beach
Leaving teachers broken-hearted
Without anyone to teach
When the classrooms are deserted
And the halls are cold and blue
Oh the library’s disconcerted
Without anything to do

   Oh the library’s dark and empty
        Like a sock without a shoe

But what’s this Listen Look
There’s a murmur in the stacks
There’s a glimmer in a book
And it’s coming through the cracks
You can hear the Xerox mutter
At the laughter in the stair
All the file cards are a-flutter
There’s a party in the air

There’s a stir in Circulation
        And it’s spreading everywhere

All our friends from all the ages
                Slip out of their printed pages
                Filling all the empty spaces
                With their own familiar faces

Here comes Leerie lighting lanterns
Down the desert aisles
Through the Toll Booth come the Phantoms
Cheshire Cat’s all smiles
Down the chimney Chimes are ringing
Tom pipes up a tune
While on the heart the Cricket’s singing
Hits from Brigadoon

The Owl and the Pussycat are dancing
        In the Reading Room

The Selfish Giant opens castle
Passes out free ale
Mr. Pickwick mixing wassail
Stops to tell a tale
Meadow Mice are singing carols
Ratty cuts the cheese
While Long John Silver rolls out barrels—
Rum from pirate seas!

Uncle Remus and Br’er Rabbit
        Have rum with their black-eyed peas

Now the party’s getting merry
Toby flips his wig
Peggotty and Ham are very
Glad to dance a jig
Friday’s fixing creole gumbo
Scrooge eats goose and glows
Sancho Panza does a rhumba
With the Pobble That Has No Toes

While high on the top of the First Christmas Tree
        Shines the Dong with the Luminous Nose

But all good times must have an ending
Leerie snuffs the lights
Back to storied halls are wending
Ladies with their knights
Back they go to Magic Island
Cave and Hollow Tree
Jungle Book and Scottish Highland
To live adventurously

Until they meet again next year
        In Christmas revelry.

You can get a sense of how fun Christmases were with my father. When I settle down with Alban, Esmé and Etta, I’m sure he’ll be looking over our shoulders and delighting in the stories.