Category: Thursday’s Tales

I don't think I've every actually shared this classic Christmas poem. Granted it's not a fairy tale, but it is about a "right jolly old elf." The poem was first published anonymously in 1823, and later attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, who acknowledged authorship in 1837. It is responsible for much of America's current vision of Santa, which kind of makes it part of our folklore. Account of a Visit from St. Nicholas 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled down for a long winter's nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I...

While we were at Disney World last week, we spent two days at Epcot. Of course, I had to hear the Christmas witch's story in Italy. La Befana is a witch who delivers gifts to children throughout Italy on the Eve of Ephiphany. La Befana's story is sad to me. La Befana was at her home when then magi came a few days before the birth of Jesus. They asked for directions to where the Son of God was, as they had seen his star in the sky, but she didn't know. The magi invited her to join them on the journey to find the baby Jesus, but she declined, saying she was too busy with her housework. Later, La Befana had a change of heart, and tried to search out the astrologers and Jesus, but she couldn't find them. To this day, La Befana is still searching for the little baby. She leaves all the good gifts as one of them might just...

"The Christmas Rose" is a sweet legend telling how the Christmas rose got its name. I first shared it a couple of years ago. The story goes that on a dark cold night, Madelon, a shepherdess, saw a procession of Magi passing by her snow-covered field with their gift of gold, frankincense and myrrh for the Christ Child. Even the other shepherds heading to the stable took gifts of honey and fruits. Madelon longed to go and worship, too, but she had no gift to give. She searched the countryside for even a single flower to offer, but found none since the weather had been so cold and harsh. Finally she started crying and just then an angel passing over her over her saw her sadness, stopped, stopped down to the ground and brushed the snow. There, in the snow, sprung up a beautiful cluster of waxen white winter roses with pink tipped petals. The angel whispered to the girl...

Today's story from Louisiana is a bit more modern folk tale, and with all the politicians on tv lately it seemed appropriate. "The Politician Gets His" was told by Hubert L. "Anatoo" Clement, Sr. in Swapping Stories: Folktales from Louisiana edited by Carl Lindahl, Maida Owens, and C. Renée Harvison. I'll tell you a little story--it won't take long. I got a opponent what run against me for governor. . . . I was worried about him, but I don't have to worry no more. He's all finished. You see, he was working on his roof, and he make a platform, and he start speech against me up there. He got in a big high, "throw mud" campaign against me, and he fall off of there. He hurt his self bad on the head. And they put him in the bed, and they put his little girl sit by him. And she's there watching him, and his wife was in the kitchen. She was...

Today's Thanksgiving tale comes from Canada. It's a perfect story about thankfulness and sharing and friendship. Long ago, on the shores of the St. Lawrence River, Owl perched in his willow tree and looked out at the world. "Hoo hoo," he called out, and at the sound, all the wild creatures gathered. They respected Owl and always came when he called. "Now look at this," Owl said, and he gazed around. The others looked too. And they saw, as if they never had seen before, a field of fat orange pumpkins looking cheery and ripe, and a field of golden corn, and yet another field, this of waving wheat, and bright blue morning glories streaming over stone walls. They saw gardens of peas and beans, squash and cabbage, wild mushrooms and mums. They saw riotous red maple leaves and dazzling yellow poplars and burnt-orange leaves on the oaks. "And just look at that sky!" Owl said. "It's the color of the Caribbean Sea," said...