By Brad Hutchcraft

It's our daughter's first year of college, and I don't really try to hide the fact that I miss her. Even if I did try, my eyes would tell the full story. So, it should come as no surprise that the anticipation for her Christmas break hits a little differently. In the midst of all of the baking and decorating, while hanging Christmas ornaments, while balancing on the ladder with lights in hand, there is this recurring thought...

"I can't wait to welcome her home!"

​​​​​By Ron Hutchcraft

Poor Charlie Brown. For over 50 Christmases the same frustrated question has wailed from his mouth - "Can anyone tell me what Christmas is really all about?!"

My eight-year-old son could have told him. We were at the kitchen table devouring a Christmas Eve pizza, eager to start opening gifts. That's when the call came. Our kids sort of groaned collectively.

Living in New Jersey, one of the nice things about our yard was the trees. Also, one of the frustrating things about that yard was the trees. See, every fall we would fill about a hundred or more bags stuffed with the leaves that came from those trees. We appreciated those leaves most of the year, but there was a month where they weren’t much fun at all.

Our then-18-month-old grandson rapidly became a bulldozer on two legs. He didn't actually walk anywhere; he ran everywhere. Of course, he didn't always get around like that. First, he only went where one of us carried him. Then the crawling started. He didn't do that for long. He graduated to walking real fast. And, like every baby who ever learned to walk, he began by taking a step or two and then he fell down. I guess he could have said to himself after a couple of falls, "Oh well, I guess I wasn't cut out to walk. It's just too hard. I keep falling down. I think I'll just lie here from now on." Oh, great! Fast forward to when he's 18 years old, and his mother has to vacuum around him. His friends come over and he says, "Hey, you want to roll into my room with me?" No, it didn't work that way. After he went "step-boom," he got back up and went "step-step-boom." And then "step-step-step-step-boom." Then you couldn’t stop him!

Over the years, one of my areas of giftedness has been in the area of sleeping. So, when my children were teenagers and came home at night, they could ring the doorbell, could stomp upstairs or even over our bed, and I would probably barely stir. Oh, but not my wife. I think there's something about the way many mothers are wired. They sleep real light - if at all - until everyone's home safe. It's a mother thing. They just can't rest until all their children are in.

By Ron Hutchcraft

It was about 11 o'clock at night when I suddenly got a cryptic text from my son - "Please turn off your porch lights." Excuse me?

Next weird thing - there are a dozen people in my front yard, all looking up at the sky. I can't really see them. Oh, but I can hear them in the dark.

Then I get it. They've come where it's further from any light to see the show in the sky. The northern lights. The aurora borealis. That spectacular display of colored lights, seldom seen in the lower 48. Caused this time by an unusually large storm on the sun.

It's the Super Bowl of the Skies! No ticket required.

In a world of people addicted to screens, countless millions of us are stopping everything to see a spectacle in the skies. When a celestial switch is flipped and the lights go out.

The solar eclipse of 2024.

It started with an almost unthinkable radio transmission to an emergency number.

"The entire Key Bridge has fallen into the harbor."

Then the video - like something from a sci-fi movie. One minute the heavily traveled Outer Harbor bridge stood there majestically. The next minute it was gone, in pieces in the river. And then the deep sadness of knowing the workers on the bridge had gone with it.

It was like a dream come true. It was right after Christmas. And I was in Manger Square in Bethlehem! Near the entrance to the Church of the Nativity, built over the cave believed to be the birthplace of the Son of God.

It felt like the whole town was a celebration. Festive lights lining the streets. Caroling choirs. A parade. And a dazzling Christmas tree on the square.

Not this Christmas. The birthplace of Christmas will be dark and deserted this Christmas.

By Brad Hutchcraft

There are toys, and then there are trains. Toys are fun, but trains bring out something else. Maybe it's the feeling of nostalgia, or maybe it's the delusional thinking that I could just step on a locomotive and successfully operate it. Either way, one of my favorite moments each Christmas is when we pull out the Lionel O-Gauge and set it up under the tree.