Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

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Many phrases define a season or experience. Among our favorites are:

“Play ball!”

“Missed it by that much!”

“Get that sled out of the driveway!”

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On everyone’s list is that wacky friend who prefaces every feat of daring with “Watch this!” That one is usually followed by sirens heralding the arrival of EMS staff. But since 1897 our title phrase has signified the holiday season.

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Although considered a single event, the Christmas experience is a combination of traditions from many countries and continents. Believe it or not, the early Puritan settlers made it illegal to exchange gifts, light a candle, or use the name St. Nicholas. My, how times have changed. Before Coca-Cola popularized Santa, he originated as a Dutch figure named Sinterklass. Montgomery Ward is responsible for the popularization of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Latvia claims the distinction of the first lighted Christmas tree in 1510, as well as the first Christmas tree fire. Mexico is the origin of Poinsettias, or “Flor de la Noche Buena," (the Flower of the Holy Night). Ancient Rome is considered the origin of gift-giving, during the feast of Kalends. And 13^th century Italy is the first recorded Nativity Scene, other than the original.

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As we go around observing our current traditions, pause a moment to reflect and enjoy. What, you ask? Family and friends top many lists, but we’re sure you have a more personal list in mind. What better time of year to celebrate the things most important to us?

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For those literary fans we’ve included a short history of the exchange between child and editor that started this discussion. Following that is their actual letters, preserved for all eternity, as is the case with everything on the internet. As you read them take time to reflect on your views and experiences of the season. We think you’ll be glad you did.

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Merry Christmas!


Robert Ferguson, President

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Eight-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of New York's Sun, and the quick response was printed as an unsigned editorial Sept. 21, 1897. The work of veteran newsman Francis Pharcellus Church has since become history's most reprinted newspaper editorial, appearing in part or whole in dozens of languages in books, movies, and other editorials, and on posters and stamps.

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"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."

VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

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Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

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Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

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You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

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No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

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What is that bright yellow thing in the sky?

Nope, at first we didn’t recognize it either. Checking our on-line encyclopedia (complete with color photos!) it appears to be the sun. After a cold snowy winter, followed by a record-breaking rainy spring, the sun is quite the novelty in these parts. This is something we could get used to!

Our May gathering featured an exciting invitation. Jason Bunting, MCI’s Acting Warden, invited our group to attend MCI’s Employee Recognition Ceremony the following day. This is the second year we have received this invitation, and it is greatly appreciated. Many were able to attend, enjoy a delicious meal, and congratulate our former co-workers on their accomplishments. We were also recognized for our contribution to MCI’s history. We’d like to express our appreciation for the invitation and the hospitality we experienced during the festivities.

Mark your calendars!

Our next outing will be on Tuesday, September 6^th. The location will again be Ryan’s, with a gathering time of noon. Through your suggestions we have made corrections to our address list to get to notification cards into more hands. You can help by informing others as well as sending us their contact information.

That's all we have for now. It's time to enjoy a cool beverage under a shade tree.

See you in September!

Robert Ferguson, President

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Ode to Spring!

With apologies to Anna Lætitia Barbauld, we have now officially entered the last half of winter and are trying to turn our gaze on a more comfortable time of year. Or at least one with less ice, snow, and sub-zero temperatures. Courtesy of Buckeye Chuck, the famous rodent prognosticator, we have been assured of spring arriving within another 6 weeks. Good thing! Lowe’s and Menards are out of generators, ice melt, and snow shovels.


As spring approaches, it is time to mark your calendars for our twice-annual luncheon. The next one is on Tuesday, May 3^rd, at noon. We have again reserved the meeting area of Ryan’s in Marion. Make your plans accordingly.


Over the years we have tried to notify as many retirees as possible, but find we don’t always have an address available to send a card. If you know of someone we’ve missed, bring them along! There is no membership initiation process, no dues to pay, and no high-pressure presentations. We concentrate on pleasant conversation over lunch with former co-workers, afterwards going our separate ways until we repeat the process in September. If you know how we could make it a better deal, let us know!

Poetry fans among us might feel neglected without including the actual Ode to Spring, especially since we used the title as our introduction. For your enjoyment it is included at the bottom of this post.

See you on May 3^rd!


Robert Ferguson, President

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Ode To Spring

SWEET daughter of a rough and stormy fire,
Hoar Winter's blooming child ; delightful Spring !
Whose unshorn locks with leaves
And swelling buds are crowned ;

From the green islands of eternal youth,
(Crown'd with fresh blooms, and ever springing shade,)
Turn, hither turn thy step,
O thou, whose powerful voice

More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed,
Or Lydian flute, can sooth the madding winds,
And thro' the stormy deep
Breathe thy own tender calm.

Thee, best belov'd ! the virgin train await
With songs and festal rites, and joy to rove
Thy blooming wilds among,
And vales and dewy lawns,

With untir'd feet ; and cull thy earliest sweets
To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow
Of him, the favour'd youth
That prompts their whisper'd sigh.

Unlock thy copious stores ; those tender showers
That drop their sweetness on the infant buds,
And silent dews that swell
The milky ear's green stem.

And feed the slowering osier's early shoots ;
And call those winds which thro' the whispering boughs
With warm and pleasant breath
Salute the blowing flowers.

Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn,
And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale ;
And watch with patient eye
Thy fair unfolding charms.

O nymph approach ! while yet the temperate sun
With bashful forehead, thro' the cool moist air
Throws his young maiden beams,
And with chaste kisses woes

The earth's fair bosom ; while the streaming veil
Of lucid clouds with kind and frequent shade
Protect thy modest blooms
From his severer blaze.

Sweet is thy reign, but short ; The red dog-star
Shall scorch thy tresses, and the mower's scythe
Thy greens, thy flow'rets all,
Remorseless shall destroy.

Reluctant shall I bid thee then farewel ;
For O, not all the Autumn's lap contains,
Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits,
Can aught for thee atone

Fair Spring ! whose simplest promise more delights
Than all their largest wealth, and thro' the heart
Each joy and new-born hope
With softest influence breathes.

Anna Lætitia Barbauld