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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460473" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>0021 The Advent of Commerce</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">December 11; and through the letterbox<br>falls like a heavy snowflake, the first Christmas card..<br>who’s so eager to draw <br>my mind and heart to Advent-tide? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">no stamp – ah yes, of course, <br>it’s from Alex the paper boy, <br>counting his goodwill before it’s cashed, <br>throwing me into a moral tizzy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My parents, who knew the circumspection<br>with which the poor must treat the poor, <br>taught me that after God and the family<br>had been acknowledged on Christmas Day, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Boxing Day’ was the time for showing gratitude<br>to those who’d served your family faithfully<br>daily or weekly – the milkman with his<br>unsociable hours; the paperboy<br>(for those who could afford a daily paper) : <br>and other delivery boys; <br>the coalman; so, if they called with a delivery<br>on Boxing Day, your Christmas box<br>would be waiting in its envelope outside the door for them; <br>or the promising and friendlier note above the letterbox, <br>‘Paperboy please knock’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">only the boldest would have dreamed<br>of knocking on your threadbare door<br>to wish a partially sincere seasonal greeting..<br>though the clop of the coalman’s horse and cart<br>significantly empty of all sacks, on Boxing Day<br>was known to be a gentle hint..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Around here, the dustmen of the mid-2oth century<br>who were the nearest to the Mafia<br>in this lower middle class suburb, <br>(and worked for it, carrying heavy iron dustbins<br>over their shoulders from your house to the cart…) <br>timed their bold knock on your door to coincide<br>with the day your double Christmas/New Year pension<br>had been drawn at the Post Office, <br>asking gruffly ‘Would you like to sign The Book? ’<br>which meant you wrote your name, address, <br>and amount (fictionally exaggerated? They left it to you) <br>so spontaneously given.. so that the whole street could read<br>and judge their contribution accordingly...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So I’m in a moral tizzy about Alex; <br>he’s worked unsociable hours all year<br>as the newspapers get heavier with advertising dross, <br>for just this chance to buy himself (or so we guess –<br>should we be entertaining worthier thoughts?) <br>those boys’ toys he’s been anticipating all the year; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">OK he’s earned it – though we’ve never yet received<br>a thankyou from him… and it would have been nice<br>to feel it would be a surprise for him…<br>but the stores sell out these days long before Boxing Day..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and so, there goes another nibble at the heart of Christmas -<br>the season of receiving.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460473" data-title="0021 The Advent of Commerce de Michael Shepherd" data-description="December 11; and through the letterbox
falls like a heavy snowflake, the first Christmas card..
who’s so eager to draw 
my mind and heart to Advent-tide? 

no stamp – ah yes, of course, 
it’s from Alex the paper boy, 
counting his goodwill b..."></div>
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