Christmas Gift

My family has handed down a Christmas tradition over the years: "Christmas Gift." During the Christmas season, as a person enters the house, the first one to say the words, "Christmas Gift" is supposed to get a gift from the good people of the house.

I can still recall my late father sitting in his favorite chair watching his football games (what else!) and dryly saying those words. I was grown and with a family of my own. The phrase never failed to elicit smiles and snickers. I don't recall anyone ever getting anything out of it, by the way.

I don't know where this tradition comes from. I do know that it seems very few know about it. I tried it on my congregation just before Christmas this year. As I entered the pulpit, I said, "Christmas Gift! (Real spiritual, I know.) Very few people seemed to get what I was saying. In fact, I asked for a show of hands as to who actually knew about this "tradition." One hand of a lady in choir was all I saw. Anyway, it is a fine and pleasant memory for me.

Now I have another.

It has been a Christmas tradition of mine since 1986, begun at my first church out of seminary in South Texas to go for a run Christmas Day. It was on that date I committed to become a lifelong runner. In part, it may have been due to overeating on Christmas Day. Over the years, my running has slowed down to a jog. Soon, it will probably sag to a slow walk. I hate to think of how much further it could go.

Anyway, this past Christmas, I went to the High School track for my traditional jog. After covering my three miles, I arrived at home to find my youngest son meeting me in the garage with a big grin and a package in his hand. He had his own Christmas gift for me.

He was so proud as he handed it to me. As I walked into the house, I opened the box. There it was.

The instruction manual for my new popcorn popper.

My wife had given me an old fashioned popcorn popper, complete with the bowl in the middle. After I opened it, the instruction manual was not to be found. I went online and found one. Despite the shortcoming, I was able to make fairly decent popcorn after all.

But I missed the manual.

My son had found it, put it in a box, and gave it to me as a gift with a grin.

I was glad to have the instruction book, but I was touched by his childish magic marker scrawl on the box and his resourcefulness in giving me the gift. I was so touched that I took a picture of his gift box and now have blogged about it.

This year, his gift of joy was my favorite.

Christmas Gift.

Alt: Lyrics On Christmas Songs

There is always someone who deliberately changes the words.

Years ago, on a Sunday School outing, it was me. We were playing the game, "Rumor." As we circled up and held hands, a phrase was passed around from mouth to ear. The object of the game is to find out what the original word or phrase was compared to what comes around to the last person in the circle.

I cheated.

I changed the phrase from whatever the original was to something I thought was funny. For some reason, I still remember one "phrase" I changed from its original wording to one of my own- "Creep in the car." Well, my childish mind thought it was funny.

Over the years, Christmas favorite songs have emerged. Also, alternate lyrics for these songs have emerged as well. Two examples will suffice.

The first was taught to me one Christmas by my cousin Kim, who, with her family, would join us to visit grandmother's house every Christmas. Oh, to be able to go back for just a few moments(!) You know by heart the original version, so I share her version:


Randolph the bowlegged Cowboy had a very shiny gun
and if you ever saw it you would turn around and run.
All of the other cowboys used to laugh and call him names.
They never let poor Randolph join in any poker games.
Then one foggy Christmas eve Sheriff came to say
Randolph with your gun so bright, won't you shoot my wife tonight?
Then how the cowboys loved it as they shouted out with glee
Randolf the bowlegged cowboy, you'll go down in the penitentiary!


Randolph the bowlegged Cowboy had a very shiny gun
and if you ever saw it you would turn around and run.
(I am sure that Randolph had few friends)

All of the other cowboys used to laugh and call him names.
They never let poor Randolph join in any poker games.

I consider this a brave move, considering Randolph's shiny gun. Another reason I doubt Randolph had many friends.

Then one foggy Christmas eve Sheriff came to say
Randolph with your gun so bright, won't you shoot my wife tonight?

I am aghast at this statement. First, why would a sheriff invite a gunslinger to shoot his wife? Second, why would the guy do it unless he were an idiot? Third, why choose a time like Christmas Eve to do such a dastardly deed? Frankly, all of this is appalling. It would also make very good fodder for an edition of "Nancy Grace." It is all the more appalling that the Sheriff makes this request with such ease, as though he were asking Randolph for a light or something.

Then how the cowboys loved it as they shouted out with glee
Randolf the bowlegged cowboy, you'll go down in the penitentiary!

At last, Randolph gets his just desserts. Much is not said in these lyrics. Randolph apparently took the sheriff's challenge and did the deed. At the very least he's up for attempted murder. Worse, he could be charged with first degree murder. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time. It is however, a sad tale sung at Christmas, which should be a happy time.

Finally, for Lagniappe (look it up if you've not from south Louisiana) and because it is Christmas, here is a song taught me by two of my boyhood friends. Actually, I never knew the song had any more lyrics beyond the first three lines. (Admission time: even today when we sing these words in church, I think of the alt:lyrical version.) There, that felt better:

We Three Kings of Orient Are

We three kings of orient are
trying to smoke a rubber cigar.
It was loaded and exploded.
Now we're on yonder star.
Oh star of wonder star of light
hope you see a ghost tonight.
It will haunt you and it will scare you
all the days of your life.

From the heart of D. Holder to you and yours, Merry Christmas!

Alt: Lyrics On School Field Trips

DVD releases of movies often declare that they include "alternate endings," and "director's cuts." These alternate endings add a new take on the original production.

Likewise, old songs can be subjected to alternate lyrics and complete rewrites. The sense of the song is still there, if not the tune, but the message is completely different. I can recall vividly this song which we elementary students sung when we went on our yearly school fieldtrips. Those yearly fieldtrips were the only times I heard anyone singing these words:

Glory, glory, halleujah!
Teacher hit me with a ruler,
Met her at the door with a loaded forty-four,
And I ain't seen the old goat yet.

Admittedly the lyrics are childish. There are also alternate versions of this lyrical take, such as:

Glory, glory, halleujah!
Teacher beat me with a ruler,
I knocked her to the floor with a loaded forty-four,
And that teacher don't teach no more.

The first set of lyrics seems a bit less violent. The teacher is not explicitly shot or killed, but is merely missing. Perhaps he/she merely left the country.

In the second set of lyrics, the teacher has obviously met his/her demise.

Now, these songs were sung joyfully on fieldtrips with full knowledge of our teachers. Since we were on an outing, perhaps they gave us a bit of slack and overlooked the obvious violence in favor of good natured fun.

Today, I wonder if a child singing these words would be expelled.

Guns at school are no laughing matter. Threatening a teacher with a gun or shooting a teacher or student isn't funny. Too much of the world's violent ways have made their inroads into our schools. In recent years, one can recall many recent shootings and armed confrontations at various schools.

Add to the fact that even younger students resort to violence and shooting to settle scores. Somehow, the innocence of it all has long passed us by. For us, it was all in fun and our teachers understood that. Today, singing songs like we did at school sponsored events would likely today get us expelled and even charged with making terroristic threats.

I guess too much has happened since I was in elementary school.

A Rare Occurrence In Southwest Louisiana

Last week, residents in our area woke up to find something that they had not seen here in over 25 years- snow! It seemed to disappear as quickly as it came. I took this photo around 8 am. By then, the evidence of our soft white visitor was quickly disappearing.

The picture shows our church office draped in snow. This old house is one of the oldest buildings in our city and is called the "Perkins House" in honor of the Perkins family, who once owned it.

New Conversation

A new interview is posted on my podbean site.

It is a recent interview I did with Dr. David Lowrie. Dr. Lowrie is pastor of the First Baptist Church of Canyon, TX, as well a the new president of the Baptist General Convention of Texas.

He is also an old seminary classmate. Glad to know that some of us have done well since we left seminary.

This is an age where many of the old structures are crumbling. Among them are Christian denominations. Many of them are being challenged to rethink their purpose and mission.

Dr. Lowrie shares his thoughts about the Baptist General Convention of Texas and his vision for it. There is a second half to this interview on church transitions, which I will post at a later date. (That way you'll come back for more!)

You can click the "Conversations With Dr. Dave" icon on the right to listen.

Feel free to share your thoughts.

Potty Mouth

The governor of Illinois apparently has a foul mouth.

And, apparently, his wife does as well.

Allegations are being reported that Rod Blagojevich, the current governor of the state of Illinois, has attempted to sell the senate seat vacated by Barack Obama to the highest bidder. And in the worst way.

Last night, even former presidential contender John McCain got into the act as well.

Plastered across television screens and appearing in news columns has been the text of some comments Blagojevich made about President-elect Obama that were uh, well, unflattering for either man. These words are apparently enough to make a sailor blush. For modesty's sake, news reports have been kind of enough to "bleep" the worst offending phrases. Of course, it doesn't take much imagination to fill in the blanks.

The governor's wife as well seems to have a problem with potty talk. What happened? It used to be considered "unladylike" for a woman to speak this way. To be fair, I believe no man or child need speak this way either.

We are inundated in this society with a variety of words once considered unfit for polite company. Television shows, popular songs and movies, as well as people on the street seem to have little regard for self censorship when it comes to the use of "colorful metaphors." (With a nod of the space helmet to Checkov of Star Trek fame.)

Last night, on the David Letterman show, even John McCain chose to use some "colorful metaphors." While he didn't say them outright, he still "bleeped" himself in an attempt to be a regular funny guy.

I find nothing funny, charming, or respectable about the use of dirty words. I don't like to hear these words accidentally, in jest, or in anger. In fact, I don't like to hear them at all. I certainly don't think they are necessary. I don't think they enhance anyone's status, make them appear cool, or get the point across. I lose respect quickly for anyone who has to resort to foul language.

In fact, years ago, I attended a mandatory sales meeting at the retail store which employed me. During his motivational and informational talk, the presenter thought it necessary to use some choice words, and I don't mean French ones. After this verbal assault, I was deeply offended. For some reason, we were asked to evaluate the presentation. Though it was over 20 years ago, I can still recall my three word evaluation- "Foul language unnecessary."

In fact, I had some "Doctor of Profanity" cards made up. They are intended to be given to those who believe that cussing somehow enhances their status or gets the job done when plain old words won't.

We've all hit our fingers with the hammer. We've all said words we shouldn't have. I was not permitted to use expletives at home, and out of respect for my parents, refused to do so.

Except once.

Mother washed my mouth out with soap. I never cussed in front of her again.

Maybe Governor Rod Blagojevich and his wife need THEIR mouths washed out with soap.

Tunnelvision In Show Business- One Perspective

I have often considered the spoiled, selfish, and often self destructive behavior that movie stars, recording artists, and other "celebrities" seem to have in common. Today I finished the book I got over the Thanksgiving holiday that gives an account of drummer Dick Peterson's experience with his musical group "The Kingsmen." I'm sure you've their most popular- and controversial song- "Louie, Louie."

By modern standards, the account Peterson gives of a musician's life on the road back in the mid '60s is pretty tame. But he does have an interesting take on how money, fame, and adulation of fans affected him and his fellow band members, giving what I believe is a satisfying answer to the question that begins this post:

As first, we accepted the fame and money with innocence and some measure of embarrassment. It didn't take long, however, before we starred believing our own PR. That's when the trouble starts and you begin to lose your identity and perspective. When you come to expect the adulation, when you take the money and constant boot-licking for granted, that's when you lose respect for things that matter and focus on satisfying your immediate desires. Everything- girls, cars, homes, fans,- becomes a hamburger, an easily replaced Happy Meal. With a McDonald's on every block, when you get hungry you just stop and order another hamburger. With so many girls available, that all become just another girl. With so many makes of car to choose from, when you get tired of one or wreck it, you just head to the nearest dealership and buy another model- with cash. With homes never being quite large enough, when one grows too cramped, you trade up into something bigger with better views. When old fans lose interest in you, new fans always come along ready to idolize you and beg for your autograph. Whatever gets you through the day is your only line of sight. In the end, you're left blinded to reality, unprepared for the devastating day when it all comes to an unexpected end.-p. 366.

And indeed it will all, one day, come to a blazing end.

"Behold, I come as a thief. Blessed is he that watcheth, and keepeth his garments, lest he walk naked, and they see his shame." Revelation 16:15 (KJV)