Christmas Bobsled

Christmas Bobsled

A Calumet County Accounting

Hanging on the wall of my shed

Is an Auto-Wheel Coaster Company sled,

A three-man Fleetwing with wheel and cowl

To keep to the course when the runners howl!

I haven’t had it long nor the pleasure of a ride,

But imagination and possibilities are my guide

Since some generous soul decided to give it away

And as luck would have it, it came my way.

Chilton’s St. Martin’s Lutheran Congregation

Recently held a Trivia Night and Silent Auction

Whereupon my winning bid garnered me the sleigh

And a good parishioner helped me carry it away.

Its condition is exceptional, though it has been used,

But there is little evidence that it’s ever been abused.

And while the manufactured year still remains in question

The middle nineteen-thirties has been a good suggestion.

I’ve hitched to those year’s now because my dad was 10

With nine other brothers to share Christmas back then

When money was tight and the Depression full-on

And a gift like this would have been barrels of fun!

Grandpa’s farm was on Tower Road high above the lake

With two grand hills heading down for sleighs without a brake!

But Hook Hill turned out at the bottom to help you slow and stop

While Quinney Hill was straight and fast with 500 feet of drop.

Bright knit scarves wrapped tight around each rider’s face

Would stream behind the wild screams and exciting, flying pace

As down they flew, faster than they knew, until the hill gave way

With nothing left except to trudge up the cliff the other way.

Putz Lisowe says they used to stop the cars on Highway 55

So the sleds could come screaming through, “And man-alive,

What a ride! Some went out a mile on the lake before done,”

guessing that’s a two-and-a-half-mile run!”

It’s what I see when looking at that bobsled on the wall,

My dad and his brothers with Leroy, Bobby, C.J. and all*

All local kids making the most of what they had—

Hills, friends, and one Christmas bobsled from mom and dad.

By

James N. (Jim) Zitzelsberger

December, 2023

*Leroy and Bobby Schwobe and C.J. Propson who all went to the one-room school with my dad and his brothers in greater, downtown Kloten.

An Early Morning Christmas Call

An Early Morning Christmas Call

by

James N. Zitzelsberger

Merry Christmas, Mom!

Hope you’re having an enjoyable day.

….

I didn’t hear the forecast,

But a little snow may be on the way.

….

Did you hear the pounding of each little hoof

When the reindeer landed on your roof?

….

No? Well, maybe it was,

But it could have been Santa Claus up above.

….

Did you put out cookies and milk

Like you did when we were young?

….

Better than catching snowflakes on your tongue,

And a nice little snack when you were done.

….

Remember the year you ran the tavern

And Santa came early on Christmas Eve?

….

I can’t remember a thing I got

But it sure was a surprise at five o’clock!

….

No, I know you don’t need a thing,

And, maybe, nothing is what we’ll bring

When we get back together later today.

….

Well, maybe just a small bouquet

After we’ve fed the horses their noontime hay.

….

Nothing really special, she’s a lot like you

And doesn’t need a thing, used or new.

….

But I’ll tell her, though I wish you could too,

Maybe later-on when we stop to see you.

….

Looks cold outside with the wind blowin’

And the kitties are waiting for me to get goin’.

….

I know, Mom, and I love you too!

But it wouldn’t be Christmas without talkin’ to you….

Mavis Mae Backhaus Zitzelsberger
September 8, 1927 – November 24, 2022

In the Evening of December

In the Evening of December

When mourning doves gather in the evening of December

And the summer rains have turned to snow,

They coo a lullaby into the winter wind

That drifts over fields under a moonlit glow.

Towering trees bend in homage,

Spent grass and cattails weave with their song

When mourning doves gather in the evening of December

To welcome a saviour into their throng.  

By

James N. Zitzelsberger

© 2021

 

Covid Christmas (A Candid Bedtime Conversation)

Covid Christmas

(A Candid Bedtime Conversation)

December, 2020 

My little one asked sincerely last night

If Santa would be coming this year

Because everybody has to stay at home—

And what about masks for deer?’

I said, there was no need to worry,

That Santa would make it all right

Even if he came a day or two

Following Christmas night.

You see, I added, he has lots to do,

But, in the end, won’t forget about you

Because you’ve asked and understood

About so much in our worldhood:

Things like Santa’s elves working hard

To make medicine for the sick,

And how Santa’s flying it everywhere

At “Warp Speed,” clean and quick.

There are so many others, you see,

Who needs are greater than for you and me:

People without a house or a grocery store,

Or even the masks like the ones you’ve wore.

Just think of the ladies down at the bank,

And the gas-station folks with fuel for our tank,

And the policemen and firemen always on call,

And your teachers online from the school hall,

And they’re all hoping Santa shows up too

After delivering vaccine for the flu,

Because he has so much left to do

That we can’t imagine how he’ll ever get through!

Then I shut my mouth, thinking I’d said to much,

About things I don’t know and such ‘n’ such,

But what I heard next, brought a hand to my eye

And joy to my heart in one short reply:

‘OK,’ came first, ‘I guess I can wait,

And maybe ask Santa, if it isn’t too late,

To give some of my things to those who have none

If somewhere in the world it might help anyone.’

And with a kiss, I pulled the covers up tight,

Stepped to the door and turned off the light,

Saying, I love you, just loud enough to be heard—

And Santa loves you too, as my last word. 

by

James N. (Jim) Zitzelsberger

©2020

2019 (A Farmer’s Christmas Lament)

2019

(A Farmer’s Christmas Lament)

 

Sure am glad Christmas is here 

Because it’s been one hell of a year 

With global warming turned wet and cold, 

And early snow like in days of old. 

Half the corn is still out in the field, 

And don’t even ask about the yield, 

Nor the price per bushel of grain 

With no China deal and all that pain: 

Count yourself lucky for half a crop, 

And be thankful for what you’ve got, 

Because there’s neighbors all around here 

Who didn’t even get to plant this year. 

We’ve certainly had too much rain 

Which has made a dyke of every farm lane, 

Flooding fields on either side 

That lap and tear at a farmer’s pride! 

And then, as if markets an’ nature weren’t enough 

To make the year rough and tough, 

Politicians keep spreading their fertilizer 

On barren fields because they’re none the wiser! 

So nothing much else has been getting done, 

With only fleeting glimpses of summer sun, 

Except trying to keep those wet fields black 

And the miserable weeds from coming back. 

Oh, I hear milk is up a bit 

But you can’t see a cow from where I sit 

Because every small dairy farm in our town 

Has folded, ceased, and already shut down. 

Yet, I’m still hopeful for more December cold 

To finish the combining when the fields hold 

And earn some cash for next year’s seed, 

To top off the pile I didn’t need, 

And a few gifts under the Christmas tree 

For everyone who’s been putting up with me, 

Cussin’ an’ fussin’ an’ bendin’ their ear, 

Because it’s been one hell of a year!

 

Merry Christmas!

 

©2019

James N. (Jim) Zitzelsberger

Amish Christmas Wishes

 

Amish Christmas Wishes

If, for Christmas, I got a sleigh

And a couple of fancy mares,

We’d high-step through the snowdrifts

To share these thoughts and cares.

I’d hang their britches with sleigh bells,

Tie yellow ribbons in their manes

With red ones in their forelocks

And polished brass upon the hames.

Blue bows would adorn their fetlocks,

Silver studs ‘round nose and brow

And an old buffalo robe would warm me

Down the road from where I’m now.

We’d pull up to your doorstep

And I’d gently put you in the sleigh,

Tucking the warm robe around you

Before merrily slipping away. 

Down the snowy roads we’d travel

Between fences under fallen flake

Laughing at the weather

And every turn that we take.

But, alas, in the snow there is no letup,

And I have neither sleigh nor mare

No robe to warm me down the road

No way from here to there.

Except for these driving lines

Penned on a snowy Christmas Day

To pass the time and distance

Between you and me, and a sleigh….

by

James N. Zitzelsberger

© 2018

Around-About Christmas

 Around-About Christmas

Santa had a little time

With Christmas days away,

So he thought he’d take the reindeer out

And hitched them to his sleigh.

A practice jaunt across the sky,

With a few turns around a town,

Would help him get the bugs worked out

So he’d let nobody down.

He cracked his whip and away they flew

With Rudolf in the lead,

Across the far-flung heavens

At a tremendous flashing speed.

But with a wishful tug he reined them in

And slowed them to a trot

With his eyes on a round-about

For which he’d heard a lot.

His rig and all was a wee bit long,

Which made the turn a little tight,

And when he whistled for the deer to go,

A car cut him off on the right!

Rudolf came to a screeching halt,

With eight reindeer piled behind,

As a window dropped and a hand shot out 

With a piece of the driver’s mind!

But Santa simply let it slide

And made his turn at last—

Never mind all the honking horns

Or shouts as drivers passed!

No, he made it around, slow and safe,

The way he’d heard it should be done,

And as they flew back to the barn

They did some loops for fun.

But when they landed, he called to an Elf

To bring out the list of “Naughty or Nice”

And to run the plate from the ‘round-about—

If need be, run it twice!

By

James N. Zitzelsberger

© 2018

Two-gun Sue, the Buckaroo

 Two-gun Sue, the Buckaroo

A  Real, True, Genuine Christmas Crime Story*

Two-gun Sue, the Buckaroo,

Was totin’ her Christmas six-shooters;

And being as quick on the draw, as ever you saw,

She never mollycoddled no looters!

In the heart of the West, pinned to her chest,

Was a tin star that made her the law;

And no ne’re-do-well, nor vermin, pray tell,

Ever got away with nothin’ at all.

‘Twas Christmas day and atop the sofa she lay

Looking down on the valley behind

Where a villainous dude, evil and rude,

Crouched, hiding, while planning some crime.

But two-gun Sue, the Buckaroo,

Had watched a lot of wild-west shows

Where the butt of a gun is seldom undone

For taming rustlers and hustlers and bros!

In a flash, she cleared leather and put it together

Square on the back of his head;

And the scoundrel was laid, flat as a mackerel fileted,

“By the long arm of the law,” as it’s said.

Then down with a lurch, she dropped from her perch

When the Justice of the Peace walked in

Looking for her son, the son of a gun,

Who lay pistol whipped therein!

Oh, the scene was grievous, though mischievous,

Until the bandito slowly opened his eyes;

And there stood Sue, wearing her Clara Barton cap too,

Ready to nurse his goose egg on the rise.

Such is the story of our heroine in her glory,

And the Christmas six-guns she’s never seen since—

Permanently lost or spectacularly tossed

By her dad over the back-forty fence.

Yes, that was the day, the townsfolk all say,

When the Buckaroo turned over a new leaf

By abandoning the law for a medical call

Which brought the neighborhood a lot of relief….

By

James N. Zitzelsberger

©2017

*Authors Note 

This story was relayed to me by a close friend who maintains that the essential elements of the hide-and seek-game are all true.  As such, in the finest Sergeant Friday/Dragnet tradition, her name was changed to protect the guilty and any detours from her testimony are strictly mine, being made under the auspices of poetic licensure.

Christmas Bivouac, A Historic Tribute

Christmas Bivouac

A Historic Tribute

It was Christmas Eve at Valley Forge,

Falling snow and freezing sleet,

Where the greatest foes were frozen toes,

Hunger and chattering teeth.

But the rag-tag army gathered round

On a Christmas hearth of frozen ground

In allegiance to the baby born

And the nation to which they had sworn.

Again, when Fredericksburg was fresh at hand

And eighteen thousand lay on the land,

Only a Christmas card at mail call

Could calm the weary-if card at all

From precious loved ones left behind

But tramping across a troubled mind

Encamped in fields of snow and cold-

Two month's march from where the stamps were sold.

On the Western Front, the Christmas truce

Was heralded as though by angels loosed

When both sides stepped onto no-man's-land

To shake an enemy's outstretched hand

Because an errant carol, it is said,

Lifted ears, then eyes, from trench's bed

And kindled response to heartfelt word

In the season's strains that they heard.

At Bastogne, surrounded and given an ultimatum,

"Nuts," said McAuliffe, "We can outwait 'em!"

And the 101st Airborne hunkered down tight

To fight and pray through Christmas night.

And they held on, outnumbered five to one,

In the coldest of winters with supplies near run

Until the 26th of December, 1944,

When Patton broke through to even the score.

It is lineage and heritage deep in the bones

Of those gone to serve far from their homes

Where only love and letters and memories

Can fill the hearts and souls of our sentries:

Sentries who walk the line with firearms steady

And centuries of values held at the ready

To give credence to Christmas and esprit de corps

Since the birth of our nation and its first call to war…

By James N. Zitzelsberger ©2016