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A Christmas Gift
Inspired by a humanitarian act witnessed by Ray J. Whittier, "A Christmas Gift" became the basis of and the title poem for his first self-published book.
"A Christmas Gift" is a collection of holiday poems from the lived life, heart, mind, and eyes of Lynn Poet Laureate, Ray J. Whittier. These poems capture classic snowy December New England coastal tales and the subtle and simple moments all year round that embody the spirit of Christmas.
These recordings were found and remastered after Ray's passing in June 2024. They capture just a few of the hundreds of poems found in the pages of his self-published book, "A Christmas Gift".
May his words and the sound of his voice bring joy and comfort to the countless friends and loved ones who knew him best. And if you're a stranger listening on a cold, December night nestled by your fire amongst the glow of twinkling lights, we hope you find a friend in them, too.
Merry Christmas.
Dedicated to Shirley Whittier, wife and loving mother of 64 years, and to Raymond and his wife Susan of Stratham, NH, Daniel and his wife Mary Ellen of Stratham, NH, and Mark and his wife Maria of Beverly; his daughters Denise Benevento and her husband Vincent of Stratham, NH, Mary Jean Raimo and her husband Michael of Beverly, Paula Funk and her husband Norman of Chaplin, CT, and Christine Moganelli and her husband Michael of Lynn; his brother John and his wife Karen of Fredericksburg, VA, his sister Judith McBriarty and her late husband John of Milford, NH; his cousins John Caldwell and his wife Clara of Ocean Ridge, FL and Patricia Chadbourne of Lynn; his friend Teddy; and his 20 grandchildren and 16 great-grandchildren.
Created by a loving grandson, who misses his "Grampy Ted".
A Christmas Gift
A Christmas Gift
Use Left/Right to seek, Home/End to jump to start or end. Hold shift to jump forward or backward.
It was Christmas Eve with the sun going down
on a snow covered street
in a small coastal town.
Most town folk had gone to family and home
Just a few souls remained, where many had roamed.
Shop lights were shut off, the late shoppers done,
And off in the distance, Christmas carols were sung.
The shawled old woman looked bent and gray,
As she slowly stepped along her way.
This special winter's eve held little for her,
Having outlived friends and those she held dear,
A north wind blew the snow, still in the air,
And each step she took was with caution and care.
The day grew darker with each passing minute,
With holiday lights growing brighter within it.
And as she neared the corner along the icy walk,
A street person stopped by her side to talk.
He had begged for many on that December day.
And was ready to leave when she came his way.
The people gave easier at Christmas, they say.
So he told his tale of woe in his usual way.
And then finishing his plea, what on luck was about,
he leaned toward her closer and put his hand out.
From empty pockets, she could not take the coin
he hoped his tale would make.
So she gave him a smile, while her head she shook.
And seeing a plight back his hand he took.
Wet snow was piling and he wished her no harm.
With his waist bending slightly, he gave her his arm.
They crossed the snowy road his help he gave,
and then they parted with a nod and a wave.
Thank you, son. Merry Christmas to you.
He looked back. Merry Christmas to you, too.
She had nothing to give but an aged, wounded smile.
He had nothing to give but his arm for a while.
Christmas reminds us, as long as we live,
blessed with plenty of naught,
we always have
something to give.
