To the tune of the Twelve Days of Christmas.

On the second day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “Are they socialized, can you homeschool legally?”

On the third day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “Do you give them tests, are they socialized, can you homeschool legally?”

On the fourth day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “What about P.E., do you give them tests, are they socialized, can you homeschool legally?”

On the fifth day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “YOU ARE SO STRANGE! What about P.E., do you give them tests, are they socialized, can you homeschool legally?”

On the sixth day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “How long will you homeschool, YOU ARE S0 STRANGE, what about P.E., do you give them tests, are they socialized, can you homeschool legally?”

On the seventh day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “Look at what they’re missing, how long will you homeschool, YOU ARE SO STRANGE!, what about P.E., do you give them tests, are they socialized, do you homeschool legally?”

On the eighth day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “Why do you do this, look at what they’re missing, how long will you homeschool, YOU ARE SO STRANGE, what about P.E. do you give them tests, are they socialized, do you homeschool legally?”

On the ninth day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “They’ll miss the prom, why do you do this, look at what they’re missing, how long will you homeschool, YOU ARE SO STRANGE!, what about P.E. do you give them tests, are they socialized, do you homeschool legally?”

On the tenth day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “What about graduation, they’ll miss the prom, why do you do this, look at what they’re missing, how long will you homeschool, YOU ARE SO STRANGE!, what about P.E., do you give them tests, are they socialized, can you homeschool legally?”

On the eleventh day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “I could never do that, what about graduation, they’ll miss the prom, why do you do this, look at what they’re missing, how long will you homeschool, YOU ARE SO STRANGE, what about P.E., do you give them tests, are they socialized, can you homeschool legally?”

On the twelfth day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “Can they go to college, I could never do that, what about graduation, they’ll miss the prom, why do you do this, look at what they’re missing, how long will you homeschool, YOU ARE SO STRANGE, What about P.E., do you give them tests, are they socialized, can you homeschool legally?”

On the thirteenth day of homeschool I thoughtfully replied: “They Can go to college, yes you can do this, they can have graduation, we don’t like the prom, we do it cuz we like it, they are missing nothing, we’ll homeschool forever, WE ARE NOT STRANGE!, We give them P.E., and we give them tests, they are socialized, AND WE HOMESCHOOL LEGALLY!

On the fourteenth day of homeschool my neighbor said to me, “How can I get started, why didn’t you tell me, where do I buy curriculum, when is the next conference, WILL PEOPLE THINK WE’RE STRANGE? I think we can do this, if you will help us, we’ll join a sports team, and we’ll homeschool legally.”

Yield: 30 pieces

• 2 cups sugar
• 2/3 cup evaporated milk
• 12 regular marshmallows
• 1/2 cup butter
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup (6 ounces) semisweet chocolate chips
• 1 cup chopped walnuts
• 1 teaspoon vanilla

In a 2-quart saucepan combine the sugar, evaporated milk, marshmallows, butter, and salt. Cook, stirring constantly, over medium heat until the mixture comes to a boil and is bubbling. Boil and stir for 5 minutes; remove from the heat. Stir in the chocolate chips until completely melted; stir in the walnuts and vanilla. Spread into a buttered 8-inch-square pan and cool before cutting.

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas — oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it overspending… the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma — the gifts given in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.

As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler’s ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn’t acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, I wish just one of them could have won, he said. They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.

Mike loved kids — all kids — and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That’s when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me.

His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition — one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn’t end there. You see, we lost Mike one year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope.

Mike’s spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always.

Author Unknown (Please notify me if anyone can identify the author. Thanks!)

“Why do you want that box?”

“Because it’s the biggest, and this is a special person.”

Okay,” Daddy muttered, “I hope this is important.”

“Oh, it is,” Alice replied. “But now I need some paper.” Daddy reached for the least expensive roll, the tattered tissue used for stocking-stuffer gifts.

“Uh-uh,” Alice insisted, “I need that pretty gold stuff.”

“Uh-uh,” Daddy replied. “That ‘pretty gold stuff’ cost $8 a roll. The only reason we got it was to help the little boy next door with his school fund-raiser.”

“I don’t care,” Alice responded. “I want the nicest paper you have for this present. It’s important.”

“Well, who’s it for?” Daddy asked.

“It’s a surprise, a very important surprise,” she added.

Daddy finally gave in, muttering that he’s never paid $8 a roll for Christmas wrapping paper in all his life.

Alice disappeared into her room for almost three hours. When she returned to Daddy’s table, she handed him her ‘biggest box’ covered with wrinkled, wadded, and mashed gold paper help clumsily tight by enough Scotch tape to wrap the whole house!

“Open it now, Daddy. Open it now.”

“But, it’s not Christmas for three more days, Alice. Why open it now?”

“Because I’m too excited to wait. It’s really special.”

Daddy tore away the expensive paper and opened the “biggest box”. It was empty. Absolutely empty!

“Alice, Daddy said, “why did you use this box and all this fancy paper to wrap a box with nothing in it?”

Alice said, ” That box isn’t empty, Daddy. I spent all afternoon blowing kisses into it for you. That box is full of how much I love you.”