“A white Christmas,” she said happily. “It’s been a longtime since we’ve had one of those” Illustration by William Gwaltney, 12 for his story “A Calf for Christmas” published in Stone Soup, November/December 2007. A note from Emma Wood I grew up celebrating Christmas. Even though I’m now all grown up, it remains a very special time of year for me. Returning to Christmas every year reminds me of all the Christmases I’ve celebrated in my life, and it makes me feel nostalgic. This means I am filled with longing for the past. Being nostalgic makes me eager to recreate the traditions I grew up with: like my mother, I listen to the Vienna Boys’ Choir as we trim the tree, make Spritz cookies, eat a lot of raw dough, and if I am in New York City—where I grew up and my parents still live—I enjoy going to hear Christmas carols at church on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day, I usually get up early and go running in Central Park. Then my family and I make pancakes and open presents while listening to Handel’s Messiah. Later in the day, we go to our family friends’ house, the Darlings, for dinner, and enjoy a special Christmas cake called a Bûche de Noël. But since I got married, I have had to learn to embrace new traditions—and to get used to celebrating Christmas in a new way. My husband has a large family in Utah. He and his parents and his sister open presents in the morning at their grandparents’ house. A big part of their Christmas is the stockings, which they fill (usually to the point of spilling over!) with little gifts like yummy snacks, chapsticks, and socks. Later that day, all of his aunts and uncles and the many cousins descend on the house for Christmas lunch. Everyone hangs out in the living room, talking, reading, maybe even watching a movie, or taking a nap. Sometimes, the younger kids go outside and play in the snow. It is a fun, relaxing day. Once my husband and I have a family of our own, we will have to decide which traditions from our childhoods we will want to keep and which new traditions we would like to introduce into our family. Whatever holiday you celebrate, I invite you to think about what traditions your family has this time of year, and what makes this time of year feel special for you. Or maybe, for whatever reason, you hate this time of year. Regardless of how you feel, I encourage you to try to explore those feelings and the reasons behind them through writing or art. Can you write a piece or take a photograph that captures your or your family’s holiday “mood”? When you’re done, please consider submitting your work via Submittable. I hope you are savoring the time you are spending together as a family or with friends. You are making memories that you will treasure as an adult. Happy holidays! Year-end donations Thank you so much to all of you who have answered our call for donations over the last few weeks–and through the year. We are truly grateful and thrilled to feel the strength of support for our work. Click here if you didn’t receive the donor drive letter, or would like to read its message again. This week on the blog Stone Soup has published beautiful watercolors and photographs of birds by Sierra Glassman over the past couple of years. (Her “Mountain Quail” is even the cover of our new edition of The Stone Soup Book of Animal Stories!). Now she has written a wonderful blog post about Passenger Martha, the last passenger pigeon. More free subscriptions given away in our 45th birthday promotion Congratulations to our latest winners! Stone Soup is 45 years old this year. We are celebrating that milestone by offering free subscriptions and prizes as we strive to win 1,000 new subscribers before the end of the year. Every 45th subscriber receives a free subscription—more than a dozen have already been awarded. The 450th subscriber has been sent their parcel of books, and their free subscription has been awarded. The 900th will get the same prize when we reach that target. It could be you, or someone you refer in the next week or so! The 1,000th subscriber will receive a free subscription, plus all 10 books, plus a free site license for the institution (school or public library) of their choice. It’s easy to subscribe: visit this page. This particular promotion will continue until we meet our target or get to the end of the year, whichever comes first. Please share this with everyone you think would benefit from joining the readership of Stone Soup. And don’t forget, you (and anyone you share the code with) can get a 10% discount on your annual subscription using the code CHEER2018 on our subscription form. Holiday shopping For holiday gifts: all print subscriptions and other book and product orders made directly with us ship within two days of being received. All orders received for the remainder of the year will be sent by Priority Mail. And don’t forget, you can buy Stone Soup Annuals and Books of… at Amazon, too. For last-minute shoppers: Digital subscriptions (and the digital portion of combined print/digital subscriptions) are available immediately! Print and digital subscriptions via our website, Stonesoup.com. Use code CHEER2018 on annual subscriptions and receive a 10% discount (until December 31 only) Annuals, anthologies, notebooks, and sketchbooks, via our online store, Stonesoupstore.com Published in Stone Soup, November/December 2007, and in the Stone Soup Book of Festival & Holiday Stories A Calf for Christmas Written and illustrated by William Gwaltney, 12 It was Christmas Eve, and everything was ready. Presents had been purchased with great care months before. Yesterday they had been wrapped in dozens of pretty papers and decorated with beautiful bows. Now they sat like sparkling jewels in a pirate’s treasure chest, under the fragrant boughs of a giant spruce. The farmhouse was filled with tinsel
Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists
The Pittsburgh Synagogue
It was a beautiful fall morning. The sun was out. The sky was clear. A perfect day to go biking. “Did they call you back yet?” I asked my mom. Ever since my two friends and I had biked to a cafe for drinks in the spring, I’d wanted to do it again. It seemed like every Saturday there was something. Either one of us was out of town, or we had some activity, but for one reason or another, since we got back from summer vacation we hadn’t had a chance to do it. I was determined to meet that day. “Did they?” I nagged my mom again. “Not yet,” my mom said patiently, “but it’s still early.” I was just beginning to give up on it, when my mom told me that it was all arranged. I didn’t have long so I hurried to get ready. As I brushed my hair, I thought about how much fun we would have. I wondered what interesting stories my friends would tell me and what they would order at the cafe. I was planning to get apple juice. It is my favorite. “Oh, wow!” my dad exclaimed from the living room sofa where he was reading the news on his computer. “What?” my mom cried out coming in to the room. “Somebody shot people in a synagogue in Pittsburgh.” my dad replied. Oh no, I thought. Why do such horrible things happen? It is so sad. Usually, I don’t like to think about sad things. They depress me. That’s why I don’t like to read sad books. But this is real life. I can’t just close it and put it back on a shelf. But as sad as it is, I was thinking, does it really affect my life? I know that there was a person there, in Pittsburgh, who hates the Jews, but I didn’t feel like it applied to me, here where I live. In my world, nobody hates me because I am Jewish. I don’t know anyone who would do something like that. Pittsburgh is far away, what happened to the Jews there, doesn’t affect my life in any way here in Illinois. I hear about anti-semitic acts in Europe a lot. How is this so different? “Are you ready, Maya?” my mom calls, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “You need to go. You don’t want to keep your friends waiting.” I went biking with my friends, and then I went to my math club. I was thinking about other things and I even forgot about the shooting. But, later in the day, it came up again. Apparently, my grandfather had called and said that I shouldn’t risk going to Sunday School at the synagogue the next day. Then the Rabbi sent an email about added security. “I don’t understand,” I thought at first. Why is everyone panicking? Like I said before, there have been similar situations in Europe and nobody panicked then. The more I thought about it, the more it became clear. The kind of people that live in Europe could be very different than the people who live in Illinois. But this happened in our country, the one that we live in. I went to Sunday School the next day. I wasn’t scared to go. When I got there, the doors were locked. Police were standing near the front. Instead of regular Sunday school, we talked about what happened in Pittsburgh for part of the time. That was when I realized that some of my friends were scared by what happened. Should I have been scared too? The doors are now locked at our synagogue. You cannot get in unless someone opens the door for you. But it does not make you feel any less welcome. Inside, the fun, the excitement, the joy, and celebrations still go on, just like always. We celebrated Chanukah this whole week. Tonight there is a special Chanukah party for teens. I am going to meet my friends there. As I am getting ready and brushing my hair, I am thinking about how much fun we will have. I wonder what interesting stories my friends would tell me and what games we will play. I wonder who will win in dreidel.
The Pittsburgh Synagogue
It was a beautiful fall morning. The sun was out. The sky was clear. A perfect day to go biking. “Did they call you back yet?” I asked my mom. Ever since my two friends and I had biked to a cafe for drinks in the spring, I’d wanted to do it again. It seemed like every Saturday there was something. Either one of us was out of town, or we had some activity, but for one reason or another, since we got back from summer vacation we hadn’t had a chance to do it. I was determined to meet that day. “Did they?” I nagged my mom again. “Not yet,” my mom said patiently, “but it’s still early.” I was just beginning to give up on it, when my mom told me that it was all arranged. I didn’t have long so I hurried to get ready. As I brushed my hair, I thought about how much fun we would have. I wondered what interesting stories my friends would tell me and what they would order at the cafe. I was planning to get apple juice. It is my favorite. “Oh, wow!” my dad exclaimed from the living room sofa where he was reading the news on his computer. “What?” my mom cried out coming in to the room. “Somebody shot people in a synagogue in Pittsburgh.” my dad replied. Oh no, I thought. Why do such horrible things happen? It is so sad. Usually, I don’t like to think about sad things. They depress me. That’s why I don’t like to read sad books. But this is real life. I can’t just close it and put it back on a shelf. But as sad as it is, I was thinking, does it really affect my life? I know that there was a person there, in Pittsburgh, who hates the Jews, but I didn’t feel like it applied to me, here where I live. In my world, nobody hates me because I am Jewish. I don’t know anyone who would do something like that. Pittsburgh is far away, what happened to the Jews there, doesn’t affect my life in any way here in Illinois. I hear about anti-semitic acts in Europe a lot. How is this so different? “Are you ready, Maya?” my mom calls, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “You need to go. You don’t want to keep your friends waiting.” I went biking with my friends, and then I went to my math club. I was thinking about other things and I even forgot about the shooting. But, later in the day, it came up again. Apparently, my grandfather had called and said that I shouldn’t risk going to Sunday School at the synagogue the next day. Then the Rabbi sent an email about added security. “I don’t understand,” I thought at first. Why is everyone panicking? Like I said before, there have been similar situations in Europe and nobody panicked then. The more I thought about it, the more it became clear. The kind of people that live in Europe could be very different than the people who live in Illinois. But this happened in our country, the one that we live in. I went to Sunday School the next day. I wasn’t scared to go. When I got there, the doors were locked. Police were standing near the front. Instead of regular Sunday school, we talked about what happened in Pittsburgh for part of the time. That was when I realized that some of my friends were scared by what happened. Should I have been scared too? The doors are now locked at our synagogue. You cannot get in unless someone opens the door for you. But it does not make you feel any less welcome. Inside, the fun, the excitement, the joy, and celebrations still go on, just like always. We celebrated Chanukah this whole week. Tonight there is a special Chanukah party for teens. I am going to meet my friends there. As I am getting ready and brushing my hair, I am thinking about how much fun we will have. I wonder what interesting stories my friends would tell me and what games we will play. I wonder who will win in dreidel.
