What Makes Christmas Christmas - Grace Latimer Jones

0:00narrator read by Pamela Kranz characters Christmas gifts read by Charlotte Duckett Money read by Ruth Golding Christmas tree read by Amanda Friday Christmas stocking read by Ginger Cucullo Blump pudding read by Rapunzelina Spirit read by Lynn Silver Read by Old Man read by David Olson The Child Read by A.V. Maria King Sun read by David Lawrence narrator read by Pamela Kranz What makes Christmas Christmas a morality play? The scene at the sides and back the stage is hung with curtains of a cold grey tone lighter toward the top. In the upper left corner a bright star is shining.

1:04Across the top at the front hangs a dark grey curtain, stenciled in a geometric design with dull gold paint. A dark line of drapery borders the sides of the pricinium. A little to the right, center and more than halfway back is a stone bench with a pine tree at each end. The light is diffused and dim to represent night. In the distance an almost imperceptible regular drumming is heard. During the solemn parts of the play this monotonous beat is always audible determining the tempo of the movement. There enters right Christmas gifts, a coquettish elf-like figure and a gold tunic and a stiff skirt stopping at the knees. On her head is a gold cap like a cornucopia, and her stockings and slippers are gold. She enters dancing. She is followed by moneybag, who loiter's sulkyly behind, examining a little musical pipe which she carries.

2:11Moneybag is dressed in a loose brown bag tied up about the neck with a hemp and rope. Otherwise he looks a little like a brownie. Why are you so excited gifts? Why? It's Christmas Eve Mr. Moneybag. She curtsies mockingly. Christmas is no better for gifts than any other time of year. What's the matter with birthdays? Poor old moneybag. Kissing him and dancing off. It's such a great drain on you. Yes it is. See how poor and thin I've grown. A month ago my sides were all bulgedy with my savings. But it's a season I thrive. You thrive my lady at my expense. I want to dance money dear. Cressingly. Play me a nice little tune. Whenever you want anything then you're very nice to me with your money deers. You always have to rely on me for whatever you want. Money makes the dance go yes.

3:12You're not a very aesthetic creature though. Money tosses his head angrily. Oh but we all love you. You're ever so much better than you look. Come play me a nice little tune to dance to. Troll la la la la la la la. Still pouting and shaking his head. I think my pipe is broken. He plays a few discords. Always broke when I ask you for anything. Come just one little tune. Money begins to play and gifts starts her dance. Suddenly abruptly in the middle of a strain. Money breaks off and begins to examine his pipe with great interest. Oh do play. Stamping her foot. It's so cool. I'm not going to play this. I'm not going to play this. I'm not going to play this. You're not going to play with this. I'm not going to play this. I'm not going to play this. I'm not going to play this.

4:12Or are you going to play the pipe with great interest? Oh do play. Stamping her foot. It's so tantalizing money to have you give out this way. Yes. It's money. This and money. That at your beck and call all the while. money grunts and begins to play. Hmmm. Hmmm. After a few bars, he again stops abruptly on a high note and falls to examining his pipe. You always give out this way at the crucial moment. D. M. N. E. Bag, just one more little strain. The strains too much for me. Have stingy you are. And your music is pretty poor, too. I notice it's good enough for your dancing. Had danced to a different tune if I could. E. R. E. It's my artistic temperament anyway, which furnishes all the charm. Autistic temperament indeed. When did that ever furnish anything but trouble I'd like to know? Enter left Christmas tree. He wears a short, flaring green tunic, trimmed with horizontal evergreen bands, green

5:17knickers, brown stockings and scarlet slippers. On his head is a peaked green cap. And time to time electric lights shine out on the point of his cap, and in the evergreen bands. Here, here. You two squabbling again. Why it's Christmas Eve, the time for shouting and laughter. See how I shine. The bulbs glow and flicker out. He won't play for me. Oh yes he will, and like a right good fellow too. Why one hour more, and it will be Christmas Mr. Bag. See how I shine with the festive spirit. The lights glow a moment. Now, if ever, is the time to play. Come gifts, we'll have a little dance together. They keep her about, but money continues to salt the examine his pipe. Come come money, what would gifts be without you? She can expect no more of me. Gifts, flinging arms round his neck.

6:18Deerled money bag. Four, two, fickle. Not in loving you. This is the season of Jolety. See how I shine. The lights glow again. Just one short piece then. He begins to play. Gifts and tree join hands. It's scandalous the way you treat him. You're so changeable. You seem to forget that Christmas gifts must be all things to all men. They dance. Presently the music stops again on a high note in the middle of a strain. Money is given out again. A new tune starts up merrily as stocking enters left. He wears a blue and white doublet and a square cap on his head. On the whole, he resembles a checked pantaloon more than anything else. The dances galee while gifts and tree give him the floor. Poor stocking. It's very seldom money spends any effort on him.

7:21You mean it's very seldom money is ever spent on him? Women are so reckless in what they say. Stocking stops breathless. How well you dance tonight, stocking. On Christmas Eve, I always dance well. I'm dancing dreams into the heads of all the children. Stockings are hung by the chimney with care. You know. That's a very core of the whole thing. What would Christmas be without me? Why I am Christmas. Rubbish old fellow. You're all right, of course. In fact, you play your part very nicely. But what would Christmas be without a tree? See how I shine. The lamps glow. Sooner or Christmas anytime without a tree than without a stocking. Boy it's the whole joy of Christmas to hang up your stocking. Have dreams dancing on your head all night and dash down in the morning to pull out. Guests, there you are. It's gifts thereafter. What would an empty stocking be? It's gifts, gifts, gifts that make some happy.

8:23Stocking is about to retort, but tree pushes him aside. There they are. Don't quarrel. We all admit that Christmas would be a pretty slow thing without you stocking, and that you'd be a pretty disappointing fellow without gifts. We're both essential to Christmas. I guess so. Christmas Eve and no stocking. Why it's inconceivable. Whoever heard of a Christmas with no gifts. Why I enter every lowest hovel, bringing joy wherever I go, and spreading Christmas cheer, I visit the Richmond in his villa, and the convict in his prison, and the soldier in his trench. Everywhere I go, helping, encouraging. Sententiously. Making all men brothers. The whole world becomes one vast fraternity under the charm of Christmas gifts. Wherever I look, I will see Christmas smiling. See how I shine. The lamps flash. What is a home without me when Christmas dawns? Why I am the very center and symbol of joy. Round me the family gather, and look at me with smiling eyes.

9:28I am the shrine of Christmas. Christmas is Christmas without a single gift, if I stand shining by the hearth. Where would you all be without me? Whoever heard of anyone's keeping Christmas without money. I may not make as much show as some of you here, but money is the biggest thing in life. What a man without money. Where can he live? What can he eat? What can he do? I build canals and palaces and the great ships that sail on the sea. I wage war and bring back peace again. I wreck hospitals and bring men healing and comfort without me, the whole world would fall into chaos and the race of men would perish. Christmas without money indeed. Here comes plum pudding. He has attended countless Christmas festivals. Yes, but think of his reputation.

10:31I'll admit that he is a diverse to a little liquor and is often in his cups, but he is a man of the world in his scene life. He ought to know what makes Christmas Christmas. Let's lay the whole matter squarely before him and abide by his decision. Yes, plum pudding knows what's what. I agree. And I. And I. Enter left plum pudding. He is a partly old gentleman dressed in black velvet with red stockings and a red sash. Good evening, Mr. Pudding. We're having a little discussion here about his most essential to Christmas. Now I. Just tell them, please, what Christmas would be without a tree. See how I shine. The lamps glow. Mr. Pudding, did you ever hear of a Christmas without gifts? She takes his arm coquettishly and smiles up at him. Well, no. Of course she didn't. Where would they all be, sir, without me? Put them all straight now.

11:31See how I shine. The lamps glow. Did you ever hear of a child who forgot to hang up his stocking on Christmas Eve? There's a good deal of wisdom in all these claims. Christmas would indeed be a poor thing without stocking. See how I shine. The lamps glow. A tree is very important. Nifth's pulls his arm. And no one would be willingly forgotten by gift. He smiles at her. Without money? Yes. Where would they all be without money, eh? Well, indeed. Well? Well? Well? Well? Well? What is it that makes Christmas Christmas? What? What? What? Is it possible you don't know? I'll shake their heads. Smiling at him. What do you think? Think? I don't think. I know. Oh. Oh. Oh. What is the road to a man's heart?

12:34Why his stomach, of course? Do you see? Blum putting is what makes Christmas Christmas. Didn't you all refer to me? Blum putting turns and struts off right in a superior manner. He's put himself above everybody else. Too much ego, my dear tree. Always overestimating his own importance. The way to a man's heart is through his pulse. Why, I can tell you. A gay tinkling sound is heard and a live yellow-clad figure enters right. She is dancing in a speaking imaginary flowers. Spirit. I am young and bright in the flowers in my hair. My high foods are cherry, my high-batter brown fur. This is no one I know. No I.

13:34Spirit. Still gathering imaginary flowers and weaving them into wreaths. Morning glory, sunroof and hair-buzz growing with aces. I don't see anything. All growing under the Christmas star. She thinks they're there. Parish the sword. All sweet flowers for my garland. The rose, the lily and the state, the daliya. Tree stepping up to her. See how I shine. Blamps glow. Oh no, no, no. Drawing back. You're no child of the wood and meadow. So much dress, bein' tatters. My high foods are lily. The stars in the sky. Hoppy when I see. She'll be asking us to have a cup of moonlight next. She's mad. I'll speak to her. What's your name? I see quitter bee, training sweet from the door.

14:36Shoe touches my heart. Let it be nover bird. Well, where did you come from? I can't say the exact place. I have come from the mountains of the Sharan Nevada. Down through a great sweep of the country. So I wander the longed the banks of the Ohio. And touch the hills again. And pass into the mist over the wreaths into the greater mile of the nations. But where is your home? I'm singing as she pleats her wreaths. When the sun shines out, the spring is my cup. And I hear from the trash that her nests lingers below. You see? She won't tell. I pass here and there, lodging the hearts of men. And I reach down and set my magic on children. Aren't you cold out in the night with that thin dress? The December winds are blowing down from the great ice-pills in the north.

15:38But I am not cold at all for my heart warms me. This is no time to be thinking about yourself. This is Christmas night. Don't you know that? The time when there's love and goodwill among men. And everyone is giving himself enjoy and service for others. See how I shine. The lamps gleam. The spirit looks about her bewildered. Everybody is expected to give a little. I flowers. They're only in your mind. Enjoy it laughter. They don't cost anything. They're just in the hearts of the people. Holding out is kept to her. Everybody is expected to give a little. That's much too small to contain my gifts. The spirit disappears. Whoever saw the like, such as some folk have. They enter right an old man with his little grandson. They're very poor and wretched. The old man carries on his back a sack which contains all his possessions, and the little

16:41boy has a swag on the end of a stick. They come in and rest themselves and their burdens on the bench. I'm old. Old by a hundred years and wearied out. Yet it's near midnight and we must be getting on to some shelter. How far must he go grandfather? It's always a long way child that the poor must travel along and weary way. Money slinking away. The beggars. Gift coming forward. It's Christmas Eve my good man. On the out of midnight his near. I was coming to seek you. I'm gifts. Christmas is for the rich. Gitterly. Not for us poor folk. Driven forth on the road to celebrate with gifts. See how I shine the lamps gleam. On Christmas Eve even the poor man can bear home a balsam from the hills and light a taper in its branches to the blessed child to shine into the eyes of his own children.

17:43Old man turning away. It's a roof tree that I'm lacking this Christmas Eve young man. But though the poor man has no home he has yet a fire where the Christmas stocking may hang. Every night the highway is my hearth friend. Enter left the spirit and touches the old man on the sleeve. Father I too have come along road on Christmas night and I'm going along our steel. Shall we not go one together? Ah company on the long dark road. That's something he now my friends. Where did you get those flowers? Mats. Mad. Mad. You see we're very poor my grandson and I. We're too poor to keep Christmas. I didn't see any flowers granted that as we came along but now why are they going everywhere? And what a fine smell they have. Can't you see how she's fooling you?

18:45Where are her flowers now? But can a fine lady like you be seen on the road with poor folks like us? King's came to him in his manger. And let us be getting along for the road is dark and difficult. The ways bright with moonlight and the hedges are thick with taces and hair bells and the metals are dotted with watercobs. We shall pass orchards too with blumps and beaches and pick in little apples and hang in bricks on a trellis. Incredulously. This reminds me of the days when I too was young and unwerried. And before us fate will run like a wild deer in the mountains. Ho, ray, ridden with heart of flowers on my bro. Can't bear ridden bees to flame in my heart. The old man and the child go out left with a confident air accompanied by the spirit.

19:45As they go they do not heed the others. She carries a high head now and despises us if she were our bettas. There they go a couple of poor doffed shadows begging along the road, a reproach to good people who are enjoying Christmas. A cloud of incense rises behind the spirit and the old man and child. Don't you see a mist rising there? Odd. And smell a holy fire. And together they have passed into the mist. And who is she anyway? And what was her business here on Christmas night? She's only a poor mad thing with her flowers and her orchards and her moonlight. It's an ill time to be meeting creatures like that. The holy Christmas Eve. The old man's coat was very poor indeed. He needed a new one. His hood was all tattered. And his stockings were only rags. But he refuses our assistance. That's the way of the poor. They'd rather freeze before our eyes than eases by taking help.

20:46He listened to her quick enough. To empty promises and vain hopes hailed out. With all her talk about flowers, yes. See how I? He jumps aside, startled, and cries out. She has taken away my shine. The others look on an amazement. A pox on her for taking away the good old ways of celebrating Christmas. Suddenly the king's sun appears left on the highway. He is dressed in a short purple tunic and wears a golden circleet on his brow. Money immediately runs forward to salute him. Money always follows in the footsteps of the great. All stand in the way of the king's sun, saluting him. He looks peevish and is evidently annoyed at the interruption. What do you want of me? It was to you, Sire, that we were about to proceed. It was to you, first of all, in the wide realm, that we would bring our Christmas greetings. And who were you, Prey? I am Christmas gifts, with my faithful attendant moneybag. We have saved for you the rares and vests.

21:47But I don't want any more gifts. Already the palace is filled up with them. Birthday gifts, Christen gifts, Christmas gifts, gifts, gifts, till my eyes are tired of looking. Sire, you are right. I am the only true symbol of Christmas. I, the Christmas stocking, you hang me up in the chimney corner and all night long dreams and fancies dance over your head. I am much too old for such nonsense. Why, I haven't hung up my stocking for ever so long. Sire, I am the Christmas tree. See how I shine. He hesitates to try but the lights gleam out again. I am the shrine of Christmas. On Christmas morning the family gather round me. I am tired of Christmas trees. I have them every year and they are always the same. All these things are nothing to me. Or in my heart there is a great heaviness. What is it that makes Christmas Christmas?

22:49I have set out tonight on the great highway of the realm to see whether I shall find Christmas there. I have left my father's house where I walk between walls of beaten bronze, lighted with silver lamps, and where my father sits on a high throne with a crown on his head and a mastiff at his feet. In the courtyard festive preparations are going forth and there is a great coming in of kings and princes. But Christmas joy has deserted our palace. I remember the time when my heart was high on Christmas night. But now everything is sodden and dull. Enter left spirit dancing. No jam, men no cold, can my speed with the press. No mesh and no net, stayed the pain of my flight. Who is she? He goes toward her, spirit gathering flowers and singing. The summer leaves for when the harvest is rife.

23:51The dark song is heard when the shadows are long. There is a princess in the court who has come up from the south and sits pining for me by the window. But I'll have none of her. And now when I put out my arms to you, you do not come. All men have a deep thirst for joy. Come to my father's house and we will dance together in the gardens. You and I playmates. Oh no, no. In palaces there are sad hearts where dance with the duties of Christmas. They must be happy and free. But I will make it different. You may come and go as you will and you may have a great tall, jaundarm to keep away anyone who annoys you. And you can console yourself by giving to the poor who are always near the golden gate. Spirit dancing away and singing. I find and I sigh for no key, for no gold, the glow in the west is treasure to me. The spirit disappears.

24:52It does a heap of good to talk to her. She won't even listen to the king's son. Enter left the old man and the boy. The last joy caught up my sleeve and disappeared. It is the only thing which will not dwell in palaces. She was taken away from us as everything else is taken. Because there was nothing there to the old man. She and her flowers were an empty show to dilute poor, daft folks like you. With her the way was not dark. While she ran beside us we walked in moonlight. Then she ran ahead. She would wait for us, she said, at the crossroads further on. And she vanished like dew. But when she was gone, our sorrow returned and the weariness of the way. And we could not see ahead. The poor too. She held in her hands joy like a great light.

25:53I saw it shining there and it vanished again. My light, she stole it from me for a little while. What did I tell you, empty promises? He thought she would wait for his coming at the crossroads. Her blossoms bloomed only a moment old father. Then she deserted you, leaving you on the road alone. And she left me too. Our promises were much more substantial, but you turned from them to her flowers. Did you touch them then? Did you take them in your hands? What I see is mine. She offered fair sight to her eyes and gentle thoughts to her hearts, such as belong to the poor and to the children and to poets. The king and the rich hold their possessions in their hands. But who can play the tyrant with the eye and the thought of a poor man? Hark! Again she is filling the air with her sweet sounds. All stop and listen. Spirit sings in the distance and does not seem. My voice, it's the voice of the forest and the lab, but the sun never shines on the

27:00goals of the reach. It is strange. Her figure is not here. Yet the sound comes to us like the film of a dream. The form too is here if you see it. Spirit is still in the distance. My life is a joy that no mistriquely out with no pain and no takes. I keep them again. This night my longing has been fulfilled and the poor have been happy. This is no place for us. Gifts, money, tree and stockings, link away left is the spirit continues to sing still in the distance. My friends see my palace, my joy, my joy, my dreams are my freedom and the garlic is my crown. Though she speeds over the earth tonight, her spirit has found its resting place.

28:03For she dwells in her hearts. The drum beats heavily 12 times.