Happy Holiday to all

Merry Christmas Everyone ... enjoy your friends, your family and all the loved ones you keep close to your heart. Laugh a lot. Drink a lot. Eat a lot. Dance a lot. Huggle Snuggle Kiss a lot. It is an interesting time of the year and we should find time to appreciate the goodness in our lives. Retain the spirit of ourselves and the traditions of our childhoods and care about all peoples around us. We all have the resources to give by smiling and allowing kind words to flow from out mouths, by thinking of those around us and caring enough of humanity to reach out and give the world mental hugs. Spread universal good vibes and help create a stronger caring world than ever before. If you have the means to do something more concrete by all means remember that there are many people in this world, in this country, in this city, in this neighbourhood who live year long with little or nothing. Instead of putting them out of your head or feeling vaguely uncomfortable by their presence, do something to help them. There are many agencies to give to, there are many volunteer opportunities and there are many ways to spread your own giving spirit out across the stretches of your day."Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love" Hamilton Wright Mabi From the Editorial Page of The New York Sun, written by Francis P. Church, September 21, 1897 We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun: 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 scepticism of a sceptical age. They do not believe except 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. 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 child-like 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. 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 you 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. You 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. 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.