Today's News

To my surprise, my dad went to meet Santa

It was around 1957, a dark wintry Christmas Eve, when my father announced that he was leaving to meet none other than the big man himself—Santa Claus.

Santa had never made an appearance at my house, other than in the dead of night, when lights were out and everyone was asleep. And as far as I knew, my dad had never had a face-to-face meeting with him.

Every couple of years I like to revisit my father’s favorite Christmas poem inspired by Clement Moore’s famous work ‘Night Before Christmas.’ The writer is unknown but he or she certainly was a gardener; and you may even get some last minute gift ideas from its verse.

Fred Wiche, my father and the first Weekend Gardener, started writing this column years ago, imparting gardening advice and humor. When he died in 1998, I took up the pen with a sense of duty and excitement, recognizing this column as both an opportunity to learn and to honor his legacy. Thanks to him for getting me on my way and to you, my readers, whether regular or occasional, for keeping me steady upon the path.

Imagine being burdened under a heavy load, trudging around in a war-torn hostile terrain. Dirty, dead-tired, nerves on edge, and you’re not even sure that there is one soul who cares about the sacrifices you’re making.

Your lips are  cracked and burning. What you would give, just for something to soothe them?

That’s where Santa’s elves, from Crittenden Baptist Church, come in. They are busy making sure that local military personnel know they’re not forgotten. These elves are not working at the North Pole, they’re stationed in Crittenden and they work year-round.

Citizens who want to change their party registration in time to vote for that party in the May primary have until Dec. 31 to do so.