If you’ve read any of the Christmas legends I’ve posted, like the one below, they’re the same type of story as in in my newest book, Christmas Legends of the Bayshore.
While the book is considerably different from everything else I write, it isn’t that it’s a fresh style for me. Writing legends for me began 40 years ago when my oldest grandson, Jason, was born.
His mom, Michelle, was in the Marines and was stationed in Japan. She had not told us in March, when the Marines gave her orders for Japan, a drastic change from her very much more comfortable position at Marine Headquarters in Washington, DC, that she was pregnant.
So in September, when she called to say Jason was born, it was quite a shock to both Jimmy and me. We got off the phone, he in the kitchen, me on the extension in the study and met in the living room. He put his arms around me, kissed me, and told me he was so happy to be married to a grandmother. That’s when it hit me. I was forty-four, I had a son in the Marine Corps, and a daughter in college. And my oldest daughter, a hard working intensive care nurse only months before had married and brought in one of the two best sons-in-law a mother-in-law could have. (the other didn’t get into the family until ten years later!) And now I was a grandmother.
The sad news came next. Michelle would not be able to be home for Christmas, new baby or not. She was a Marine and it wasn’t the Marine Corps who issued her a son. She still had her obligation to the Corps so, Jason’s first Christmas would be spent in the nation in which he was born, not back in the United States the nation both his mom and his uncle were serving to protect. So Christmas had to be something special for Jason.
That was the first legend I wrote. I made an ornament to go with the legend, and so the annual tradition began.
I don’t know where that legend is now. I rarely save the stories I write so I did not have a copy of the legend I sent for Jason. I presume it got lost in his mom’s travels over the years. But many of the others from the years thereafter I did save, many of the ornaments we made to go with the legends are hanging on the children’s and grandchildren’s trees today.
That’s why I decided to put together a few of these legends, blend them with a few new ones and some other stories I wrote, and compile them into a book for all ages to enjoy. I’m hopeful parents will read it to their children, grandparents will put a little one on their laps and perhaps read one of the poems or tell one of their own stories from their childhood.
Perhaps some families will pick up the tradition we had, and make their own ornament to go with a particular legend. Maybe the story about the Black Forest in Germany will bring back happy memories for some, or the story of the Hungarian eggs will make people of that heritage learn something else about their culture or customs. Maybe some of the folks who go to daily mass at St. Agnes will like how the cherub stopped in one morning to meet them all and some others will laugh at the squirrels I feed that come from South Avenue, or learn something about the horseshoe crabs on the beach in Waterwitch.
Our nation has come through a most difficult year; our children will never be the same growing up in the fear of Covid and learning diverse ways to be educated. Our military are still fighting or standing guard in countries around the world, in spite of our thinking we are not at war, and people have stopped going to church, blaming it on Covid and non-vaccination.
It’s time to get back to family, get back to taking some time for the older generations to share happy stories with their grands or great grands, for young families to be starting their own holiday traditions that will make the days special just for them and give those children happy memories they can pass on to their children for generations to come. I hope this book can start families along that path.
THE LEGEND of the BOOK BEETLE
“Oh, we may have a big problem this year,” Santa said to Mrs. Claus as he looked at his list of people and the packages they asked him to carry. “We’re going to have to stop all over the world to take care of just the people in the Bayshore alone.”
“I don’t ever worry about you, Santa,” Mrs. Claus chuckled, ”You always manage to find a way, either on your own or with the help of some of your friends. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Well, “ said Santa, a little disappointed Mrs. Claus did not worry as much as he did. Look at all those families who have a son or a daughter in the Army and serving over in Germany or in the Middle East, and that really nice family whose daughter is in college in South Carolina. I know she’ll be home for Christmas, but still, she’s missing out on the fun before the big day. Then we’ve got a Marine who is guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Washington so of course he can’t be home with his family. We’ve got families who have grandmas and grandpas in Philadelphia but they can’t make the trip to the Bayshore for the holiday..” Santa sighed. “Then just look at this,” he said as he scrolled further down the list. “There are all these wonderful families n Belford, in Navesink, in Leonardo, in Monmouth Beach, even down in Ocean County. They’re all over the place And there is something special about every one of them.”
“Oh, no,” Santa moaned, not his usual jolly self. “I just turned the page and here’s more!”
Look at these Sailors, Mrs. Claus,” Santa went on, : I know they’re happy to be on that brand new submarine named for the state, and some of them actually live right here in New Jersey. But they have their job to do, and they can’t be with their families. Some of them have families still living right here, some remember growing up and celebrating Christmas singing Christas carols and putting ornaments on the big tree in front of Borough Hall in Atlantic Highlands. I’m so proud of them for serving their country like they do, but that means they have to miss out on special occasions.”
Mrs. Claus just smiled. Of course there are special people all over,” she said, “Look kat Sister Diana, who grew up here, and all those and all those nuns South Jersey. Some even taught here. And look at Brenda’s wonderful daughter way up there in Massachusetts. I know she always wants to be with her mom and I’m sure she will be, but gee, I’d like to leave something special at her house as well. She’s truly very kind.”
“And don’t forget about Jane,” she reminded Santa, now deep in worry over his list. “She is always out there doing something for someone. She is always there to help, sometimes it’s even like she knows when somebody needs something and does it right away.”
All right, Santa, “ Mrs. Claus said a bit sternly. “if you want to continue to worry about them all, then you are just going to have to solve the problem yourself.”
“”Oh, I still don’t know, “ Santa said glumly, “they’re all so very special and all so loving and so nice. I know I have to do it, I have to be able to cover them all. That settles it! I’ll do it!” he said as he stood up and flocked a little beetle off the sleeve of his jacket.
“Whoa, not so fast there, Santa, “the little beetle said, standing up to her full quarter inch height. “Are you forgetting about me and my whole family? I’ve got more than 6,000 cousins and we live all over the world. Our wings beat eighty-five times a second when we’re flying so we’re pretty fast, too. Now what seems to be the problem?”
“Don’t tell me you have a big list, too,” Santa grumbled.
“Nope, not me,” the colorful little insect said, hopping back up on Santa’s arm and tossing him a great big smile. “We’re a special kind of beetle and all we want to do is help.”
“Do you want to know why birds and other things don’t gobble us up,” she asked, eager to tell her story. “ We have this kind of a perfume that smells just awful to all of them, so nobody wants to bother us. That I why we can just go about and get our work done,” she whispered.
Santa took a closer look at the little beetle. She was tiny and she was very pretty. That bright red jacket she wore had the cutest black spots all over. And she did look healthy. Must be all those aphids she eats, he chuckled to himself.. “Oh, ok, little beetle, what do you propose?”
“Well, here’s the thing, Santa. I know there are lots of little shops in all the Bayshore towns just crammed full of unusual little gifts for Christmas. I know both the Strauss House and the Twin Lights museums have gift shops and buying from them is like giving two gifts, one for history one for the person. And books! Lots of people have written wonderful books about Sandy Hook and the Twin Lights and everything. If people gave these gifts to each other, it would lighten your load as well.” And for people who have so many things on their own, why don’t’ they give something special to the volunteer first aid and fire departments? Why don’t they get gift cards for the Giving Trees in the Churches? How about that little girl in Highlands who just saved her dad’s life? I know you want to bring her and her family huge baskets of love and appreciation.”
“Well, these are all great ideas, Beetle,” Santa said, “but we still have all those families that can’t be home.”
Oh, Santa,” the beetle sighed, I guess you don’t know much about me and my family. We have a long history of getting things done. We started way back a couple of thousand years ago when a little baby was born in a stable far away from here, in a town called Bethlehem.”
The beetle went on to tell his story. “Even though it was cold, His mom kept him snuggly warm in her own shawl and sang beautiful songs to him. Our ancestors always passed down the message that it really sounded like angels singing it was so beautiful.”
One of my ancestors,” the beetle continued, telling the ages old story of her family, “my Great Something or other Ancestor was sitting on the cow’s ear’s in the corner of the stable when the Baby whimpered a little. Well, that Great Something or other Ancestor flew right off the cow’s ear onto the baby’s swaddling clothes and started doing a silly little dance. I guess it was her bright color, or maybe it was how fast her little wings were moving, or maybe it’s the way we all chew..you know, side to side, not up and down like everybody else.. Anyway, whatever it was, within a minute, the Baby stopped whimpering and He was really giggling. Out loud! My Great Ancestor could even hear Him! And His mom was so happy she promised our ancestors she would return the favor one day.
And My Great Something or other Ancestor said nothing was necessary, All we ever wanted to do was be able to help wherever we are needed.”
“And did she ever call on you again for help?” Santa asked, now intrigued by the little beetle’s story.
“Oh, she has many times,” the beetle answered proudly. “But my favorite is that time about a thousand years ago when some insects..not us, of course..were eating all the crops and the farmers were going poor and their families could not have a Christmas. A farmer asked Jesus’ Mother for help…that was the little baby from a thousand years before, and she called on us. Well,” the beetle said excitedly, “about a billion of us got together and we went and ate up all those nasty little aphids and saved the plants. That’s how we got our special name, you know. They called it a miracle and called us The Lady’s Bugs.” So now everybody just calls us Lady Bugs, because they all know the story of how we are there to help.”
“That sounds like you’ll be the perfect messengers for me,” Santa said, laughing heartily. “And your jacket is just as red as mine, so I guess you are kind of Special to Santa Claus too. Maybe you even have some of my magic in you. Now I know we can cover the world and make everybody happy.”
“And somehow, on Christmas Eve, Santa Claus was able to travel to all the places where all the relatives of Bayshore families were. And all received the gifts from home of love, happiness, good memories and promise of happy futures.
And the little beetle left her own mark. For those who believe, and look very closely, there’s a little Lady Bug on the most special gift under the tree or delivered to the family far away.
