A Quote by Maurice Grimaud
Not to open the hunting season on the pretext that there is no game would be as if one gave up celebrating Christmas because there was not enough snow to go by sleigh to midnight Mass.
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Mom still has a huge, beautifully decorated Christmas tree. The whole family comes together after midnight mass and has the traditional plum cake and wine. We spend the night at mom's home, and in the morning we wake up and open the presents. In the afternoon, we sit down to have a traditional Christmas lunch.
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,
Just like the ones I used to know,
Where the tree tops glisten
And children listen
To hear sleigh bells in the snow.
In case anyone would like to know, we have now entered the Christmas season. Christmas as in Jesus Christ. This is not the "happy holidays" season. ...Don't "Happy Holidays" me because I will "Merry Christmas" you in return.
Midnight, and the clock strikes. It is Christmas Day, the werewolves birthday, the door of the solstice still wide enough open to let them all slink through.
Come September, the middle of September when the first frost comes, that's hunting season. Fishing poles are hung up and the hunting season starts. You've got to be careful, if you're a hunter, that it doesn't become an obsession.
The hunting season is sacred. It's been sacred in my life since birth. I've never missed a hunting season in 64 years. It's my calling, it's what I am, it's how I was designed, it's what inspires, fascinates, satisfies, and drives my quality of life. And I know that it brings me such joy, and it does such a critical and essential performance for nature and for the environment, that I am dedicated and have been for over 40 years to promoting and celebrating that. I never defend it. I always promote and celebrate it.
Now on the first day of Christmas, my homeboy gave to me
A sack of the krazy glue and told me to smoke it up slowly.
Now on the second day of Christmas, my homeboy gave to me
A fifth of Hendog and told me to take my mind off that weed.
Now by the third day of Christmas, my big homeboy gave to me
A whole lot of everything, and it wasn't nuthin' but game to me.
On Christmas morning, before we could open our Christmas presents, we would go to this stranger's home and bring them presents. I remember helping clean the house up and putting up a tree. My father believed that you have a responsibility to look after everyone else.
The French take their festive platters seriously and spend lavishly on them. Christmas Eve, rather than Christmas Day, is when they tuck into the big family meal known as Le Gros Souper or Le Reveillon. Traditionally, it was served after the return from midnight Mass.
Opening presents at midnight on Christmas Eve - midnight! As soon as it turns to Christmas Day, we're opening those gifts.
We always go to downtown Oklahoma City to look at all the Christmas lights that have been put up... We go to the Christmas Eve service at church, and we always beg my parents to open a present - just one present - on Christmas Eve. We get them to cave.
In London the day after Christmas (Boxing Day), it began to snow: my first snow in England. For five years, I had been tactfully asking, 'Do you ever have snow at all?' as I steeled myself to the six months of wet, tepid gray that make up an English winter. 'Ooo, I do remember snow,' was the usual reply, 'when I were a lad.'
Celebrating Christmas without subscribing to Christianity is like watching the Super Bowl without watching a regular season game. Some people watch the Super Bowl for the commercials; others watch it for the halftime show.
The truth is that our way of celebrating the Christmas season does spring from myriad cultures and sources, from St. Nicholas to Coca-Cola advertising campaigns.
Over the river and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh,
Through the white and drifted snow.
I love "Frosty the Snowman." My family and I like to go on a sleigh ride with a two-horse sleigh in Aspen, so we all scream different songs at the top of our lungs. I hope it doesn't scare the horses.
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