In lieu of trying to belong to any number of societies: Chesterton, Sherlock Holmes, the Inklings, and so on: I propose and establish one of my own. Don your intelligence cap at the door; dust off your logic and imagination; did you bring your inspiration and encouragement? We are shapers, my friends; lit lamps; light-bringers. Bring quotes*; poetry should be uplifting and thoughtful, or witty and clever, (or both). Humor is encouraged; laughter is invited back. Pull up a chair. Anyone for tea?
* C.S. LEWIS, J.R.R. TOLKIEN, SHERLOCK HOLMES, G.K. CHESTERTON, N.D. WILSON, AND P.G. WODEHOUSE, ARE ENCOURAGED
Of course I hurried to the attic right away for the Charlie Brown Christmas CD--we always get to listen to that on the first day of snow. It was chilly up there, and the light was dim. I had no idea where it would be, and ended up finding it in the bottom of three stacked storage bins (which I balanced on another pile while pulling out the box). But I wouldn't have missed that moment for anything. That old red box has held our Christmas music for as long as I can remember, and just last year Mama glued a vintage magazine clipping over the ripped spot on top. I put the bins back and opened the red lid. Each CD and cassette in that box is as familiar to me as any Christmas tradition, and I fingered lovingly the worn and cracked cases that reminded me of my whole life. Everything from Bing Crosby & Nat King Cole, to Handel's Messiah is in that box. And right there, under a few others, is the one I am looking for: Charlie Brown Christmas.