Life, 1925-12-03 · page 71 of 84
Life — December 3, 1925 — page 71: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page features a satirical poem by Baird Leonard contrasting childhood and adult Christmas experiences. The speaker nostalgically recalls youthful innocence—when Christmas meant genuine joy and receiving simple gifts (toys, candy, books) with gratitude and minimal reciprocal obligation. As an adult, the speaker observes that Christmas has become transactional drudgery: adults shop exhaustedly, exchange unwanted items that clutter closets, and experience the holiday as expense rather than joy. The poem's central satire critiques how commercialization and social obligation drain Christmas of meaning. The poem ends with the speaker now saying "Thank God" Santa comes only once yearly—inverting childhood excitement into weary relief. The page also contains a Remington typewriter advertisement positioned as a practical gift suggestion, somewhat ironically placed beside a poem lamenting materialistic Christmas excess.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A Cynic’s Christmas Carol V HEN I was young and innocent And not (they say) so very bright, To me the Yuletide season meant Just seven days of sheer delight. My childish treble trembled high With “Santa Claus will soon be here!” And warbled on to testify That “Only once he comes a year!” “To give’s more blesséd,” read my card From Sunday school, “than to re- ceive,” A statement which was pretty hard For little Bairdie to believe. Because on Christmas morn I'd quit My cradle at the crack of day And several hours thereafter sit Grabbing whatever came my way, Which, as a rule, was rather good— | Beads, blackboards, doll trunks, candy, fruit, Gold pieces, games, books, blocks of wood, And so forth. And I loved the loot, For which I'd made no more return Than spool lace or chained paper rings, Which kindergarten pupils learn To make, poor helpless little things! My elders, though, were tickled pink. Judging from their ecstatic hollers, The casual auditor would think I'd given each a million dollars. Well, that was several years ago. I'm listed now with the adults, For whom the Yuletide doesn’t show The same percentage and results. They shop and spend their hard-earned cash For things they really want them- selves, And trade them for a lot of trash Which clutters up the closet shelves. | The scales have fallen from my eyes. At last it’s crystal clear to me Why Wordsworth said that Heaven lies About us in our infancy, Oh, would I were a child again In all my erstwhile innocence, When peace on earth, good will to men Meant little work and no expense! “Oh, Santa Claus will soon be here!” (My treble now is somewhat flat.) To “Only once he comes a year,” Parenthesize, “Thank God for that!” Baird Leonard. UDGE: And then what happened? Rastus: After dat, beggin’ yo’ pardon, dey was occurrences. A Cif that Inspires Gratitude jorFather or Mother JorSon or Daughter Jorleacher or JorDearest Friend HIS Christmas Portable may be had in our handsome Christmas package without extra charge. For sale by over 5,000 dealers and Reming- ton branches every- where. Easy payment terms, if desired. Write for illustrated booklet, “For You—For Every- body”. Address De- partment 149. REMINGTON TYPEWRITER COMPANY 374 Broadway, New York Branches Everywhere Remington Portable comicbooks.com