Main Street – January 1, 1948

By Morris Rote-Rosen

The Wise Old Man

I met him shuffling down the highway,
With his heavy-laden pack.
As he struggled with his burden,
On his tired, aching back.

His bulging pack was full of troubles,
Which he gathered through the year,
But, he wouldn't drop his burden,
Though he knew his end was near.

"I was full of youth and vigor,
Just a year ago tonight."
He stroked his beard and mumbled sadly:
"Things somehow looked kind o' bright."

"Following a long succession,
On the heels of Forty Six,
Thought, of course, that I'd be helpful,
With the world in such a fix."

"I talked of peace, united nations,
I thought I'd do the best I can,
To bring a torn world together,
I thought I was a wise old man."

He gripped his shaky, rusty scythe,
Which was dulled by many nicks:
"What's the use to keep on trying?
All you get is naught but kicks!"

"This here hour-glass has taught me,
That I wasted all my life,
Talking, preaching, praying, urging,
To do away with greed and strife."

"This world need not remain in darkness,
When it can drink from wisdom's fount,
Which the Prince of Peace expounded,
In His Sermon on the Mount."

Old Forty Seven then reflected:
"I'll tell you what the world's in need,
Not to have misunderstanding,
And not to talk of race or creed."

"All join hands, become united,
In fraternal brotherhood.
Never mind the church one goes to,
From what I know they all are good."

"The clock now strikes the midnight hour,
And I must not stay too late,
It's time to go, my place is wanted,
By that youngster, Forty Eight."

"Perhaps he'll do a better job,
Or they wouldn't want him here.
And may his efforts be rewarded,
With a smoother working year."

As the wise old man departed,
With his heavy-laden pack,
I watched him fading into darkness,
Without even looking back.

In his place there came a-bouncing,
Lighter than a rubber ball,

Forty Eight, with youth and vigor,
Shouting "Happy New Year to you all!"

+++

In the silence of the Holy Night we took a brisk walk through the village to see how Granville greets the 1947 Christmas. The night was cold and the thermometer registered twelve degrees below zero. The bright moon overhead, like a large light, was shedding its silvery beams down on the snow covered branches of the trees lining the sidewalk curbs. Granville resembled a picturesque Christmas greeting card of the season. Myriads of stars spangled the cloudless canopy overhead. The snow crunched under foot, the only sound to break the silence of this Holy Night.

+++

A creaky porch-step gave off a weird noise as jolly Santa Claus in person delivered Christmas gifts. From the open door of one house came a ruby-red light mixed with sapphire blue, casting shadows from a decorated Christmas tree. Through the small momentary opening, we saw packages, ribboned with holly, piled at the foot of the tree. "Merry Christmas," came a voice from the inside of the door. Farther up the street men were making merry with a toast. While others were hurrying to their respective churches for the midnight service.

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The village square was deserted. On one side of the street a man was walking with his hat turned down over his eyes, his coat collar wide open. "How cold is it?", we asked. "I don't know", came a mumbling reply, "and I don't care". Two young ladies, clutching prayer books, hurried by, to get inside the warm church from which a soft view reflected through the multi-colored stained glass windows; one depicting the great personality whose birthday anniversary was being observed.

+++

The frost nipped at our ears and we hurry down Potter avenue and we look to the east to try to vision which particular star pointed the way to the cradle of Christianity. The world "Bethlehem" comes flashing through our thoughts and we are reminded that its Hebrew translation means "the house of bread", which may also mean the house of sustenance, or one given everlasting life. And the biblical panorama passes before us of that little town in Judea which means so much to Judaism and to Christianity alike. The little town which cradled spiritual faith, which was climaxed with the birth of Jesus.

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And we recall that the Bible mentions Bethlehem as the place where Jacob erected a monument to Rachel. Where Naomi and her daughter-in-law Ruth gave proof of their faith and virtue. Where Boaz the great benefactor lived. Where Jesse, the father of so many sons lived. One of them to become ruler of the House of Israel. Bethlehem, where David resolved to build a holy temple to the Lord. Where Prince Zerubabel, the descendant of David, was born, and under whom Israel enjoyed uninterrupted felicity.

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And it was Bethlehem which gave birth to the man who, by his wisdom, uprightness, heroism in the face of adversity, carried his message of love to his fellowmen; a message which the world has now been hearing for close to twenty centuries. A message which comes ringing annually on Christmas day and which is no longer restricted to Christianity alone. It now has a universal meaning to Christians and non-Christians alike. "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men" can no longer remain, a one day a year slogan. Unless it is accepted and practiced all the year round civilization will perish.