The Fishing Line

Carrie Underwood, Blake Shelton, Dan + Shay, and Lynyrd Skynyrd were on tap to headline Barefoot Country Music Fest, and are in discussions to perform at next year’s event. Festival organizers will announce performers for BCMF 2021 in the coming months. 

editor's pick

To celebrate Earth Day and its 50th birthday, the Department of Environmental Protection is introducing new online resources, including stay-at-home activities, virtual tours of state parks and distance-learning opportunities.

For those who have given up on finding a Nintendo Wii, and can’t quite afford a 65-inch plasma TV, it’s still possible to give a meaningful gift at Christmas

Not long ago, parents bought their children model trains for Christmas. 

I walk to the beat of the season. For the light of your glory as I stroll past the

snow, I wish to see it glow.

This Christmas Eve past, I touched and cradled each bead. Beads found in a thrift shop housed in a little pearl box, tucked away, discarded and ignored.

When thinking of the birth of Christ, We remember Mary and Jesus, Often Joseph is forgotten,Whom God chose to help fulfill the prophecy of the Old Testament

Invariably cast in the gentlest of whispers, my mother would respond, without hesitation, her answer always unwavering and steadfast, to my annual holiday query.

Time runs out for me. I suddenly realized it’s almost Christmas. There was a time I’d be busy helping to gather the dozen varieties of seafood that highlight traditional Italian pre-Christmas dinners.

In 1903, my father and I were in search of our perfect Christmas tree for our small cabin. As we stood in the forest surrounded by pine trees, I saw a small 5 foot tree, perfect for our cabin.

Christmas decorated tree brightening a corner of the room. Yule log blazing away. My wife positioning numerous lighted bayberry candles strategically throughout the house.

My husband and I were having pizza at our local restaurant and noticed a young couple seated close to our table. 

I am a child of the Christmas season, having been born decades ago on the 11th day of Christmas. And this lord has been leaping ever since.

In 2017, you published my letter, “A Gift of Family.” I wrote that I was adopted in 1953.

A special feeling we have in our hearts that is everlasting. An angel on a Christmas tree that reminds us that someone special is watching over us.

It was the night before Christmas down at the shore. All the sea creatures were waiting for Santa and more.

When I was a little girl, we went to visit my grandfather. He lived next to the train tracks.

Unwrapped in its brilliance, A delicate touch, Hesitation, A gesture of courage Begins to accept A gem never offered before.

Caring for kids Is what it’s about; Extending ourselves, Even doing without.

Sawhorses shaped our Christmas growing up in Cape May. The sawhorses and an oversized slab of wood created the platform for mother’s holiday dollhouse display.

“Only a child can bring the joy that you felt as a child at Christmas back to you, when you view it through their eyes,” writes Nicole Kohler. “That is the magic of Christmas. Fondly remembering Johanna Craig's second Christmas, 2011.” Kohler is Craig’s mother.

There was a child out shopping, one day until Christmas, checking off all the gifts he wrote on his list.

The anticipation seems endless, All waiting for the word. I wait almost anxiously, For instructions from the Lord.

Walk slowly through a park a week before Christmas. Here there is no sound but the crunch of snow underfoot.

The plan for Christmas was for my brother, Wayne Nichols, his wife, Diane, and their 2.5-year-old son Kenny to come home to Erma from Rome, N.Y. and celebrate with us; us being our grandparents, Hazel and Clarence Nichols, and our mother, Anna Brennan and two other siblings, plus me.

That we live in a cynical age is without dispute. It seems little that we seniors clung to when we were children are valued by today's society. 

The following is a container of recollections neither full nor empty of truth.

Our front room was strictly off-limits for about 10 days before Christmas; the heat was turned off to the room, the door from the living room locked firmly (at least to the hands of a child) and the windows covered by newspapers with no "peeping" room whatsoever, but we all knew when Christmas made its presence known. Its fragrance engulfed the whole house.

It was a blustery, late autumn evening in suburban Philadelphia and my mother was in the kitchen stirring a pot of vegetable soup when the ringing of our yellow, wall phone interrupted our lives.