christmas at the ouiseau junction home for the elderly, December 1938
fiction
edward w pritchard
Mr. Johnson came to the nursing home where his great Aunt stayed most every christmas to play Christmas carols on the piano for the residents. He usually arrived before lunch and stayed for Christmas dinner.
The assistant social director for the nursing home would give a short prayer before she introduced Mr. Johnson and then would coach the residents into making requests for sacred music until the break for lunch.
After lunch the assistant social director would leave to be with her family and Mr. Johnson would play some of the old sad blues songs for some of the residents of the ouiseau junction home for the elderly. Even though it was a little sad to hear those type of songs on Christmas several of the women who worked at the nursing home always brought cookies in for Mr. Johnson the volonteer piano player to thank him for spending his Christmas day year after year playing songs for the elderly shut ins at the ouiseau junction home for the elderly.
end
Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Christmas in the field
Christmas in the field
fiction
edward w pritchard
Le Generale is very strict with us about appropriating supplies from the locals. We have been in the field for four full months and a soldier tends to loose his extra baggage over time. I was cold and lonely starring up at the stars and feeling a little pensive. It's surprising how cold it gets out here in the desert at night.
I had just found the bright planet Jupiter in the sky when the three other Welshmen in the unit came over to cheer me up. Edwards brought me a blanket, Pritchard brought me some wood he had scrounged up and Williams brought me some chocolate for cocoa. Those Welshmen, they will do about anything for a friend.
A couple hours later I woke up warm by my little fire, and wrapped in my new blanket. I began to fret about the comfort of my three Welsh friends. I made that long trek over to C Company and found Edwards, Pritchard and Williams and spent about an hour reading to them from my Gospel of Saint Matthew. Williams and Edwards sang a couple of songs and even the Muslims in the unit joined in singing traditional Christmas songs.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Le Generale is very strict with us about appropriating supplies from the locals. We have been in the field for four full months and a soldier tends to loose his extra baggage over time. I was cold and lonely starring up at the stars and feeling a little pensive. It's surprising how cold it gets out here in the desert at night.
I had just found the bright planet Jupiter in the sky when the three other Welshmen in the unit came over to cheer me up. Edwards brought me a blanket, Pritchard brought me some wood he had scrounged up and Williams brought me some chocolate for cocoa. Those Welshmen, they will do about anything for a friend.
A couple hours later I woke up warm by my little fire, and wrapped in my new blanket. I began to fret about the comfort of my three Welsh friends. I made that long trek over to C Company and found Edwards, Pritchard and Williams and spent about an hour reading to them from my Gospel of Saint Matthew. Williams and Edwards sang a couple of songs and even the Muslims in the unit joined in singing traditional Christmas songs.
end
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas, December 25, 1683
Christmas, December 25, 1683
fiction
edward w pritchard
I am here to bless you my son said the Priest as he rolled the blanket down covering my nose and mouth. The Doctor had covered my face with the blanket, probably to keep me warm, after he deemed me too far gone to treat. For the last ten minutes despite my wounds and pain and the severe bleeding the thing that was bothering me was my treatment at the hands of the Doctor and his assistant. He is only a captain, I am a Colonel, imagine leaving a wool blanket over a man's mouth.
The Priest is no better. He's not even French, Spanish Basque I think. He has mistaken my attempts to communicate with religious fervor on my part. I cannot talk and my struggling to tell him about the Doctor's treatment has been misinterpreted by him as me trying to make amends with God. I can tell by the ridiculous look in his eyes. He's choking with glee.
Is this how I am to leave this world. The bleeding to death from three wounds is not so bad, our enemy were just doing their job, I have done the same many times
to others. It's the mistreatment and disrespect by your comrades that really hurts. Gods what a way to leave this world. I Henri, Leclerc deserve a better sendoff.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
I am here to bless you my son said the Priest as he rolled the blanket down covering my nose and mouth. The Doctor had covered my face with the blanket, probably to keep me warm, after he deemed me too far gone to treat. For the last ten minutes despite my wounds and pain and the severe bleeding the thing that was bothering me was my treatment at the hands of the Doctor and his assistant. He is only a captain, I am a Colonel, imagine leaving a wool blanket over a man's mouth.
The Priest is no better. He's not even French, Spanish Basque I think. He has mistaken my attempts to communicate with religious fervor on my part. I cannot talk and my struggling to tell him about the Doctor's treatment has been misinterpreted by him as me trying to make amends with God. I can tell by the ridiculous look in his eyes. He's choking with glee.
Is this how I am to leave this world. The bleeding to death from three wounds is not so bad, our enemy were just doing their job, I have done the same many times
to others. It's the mistreatment and disrespect by your comrades that really hurts. Gods what a way to leave this world. I Henri, Leclerc deserve a better sendoff.
end
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