Christmas

the Rim. This is a wonderful thing to do for those boys from every state in our Union; and it will be done again for them while the war lasts.

That night we saw the sun set, and the Canyon's reds change to a brilliance beyond belief and then to a faded rose; we saw the mauve and blue and purple shadows creep in at temple doorways and veil the tops of towers. We saw the darkness come and fill the Canyon as a vast cup, and in the morning we woke to sunrise-a clear blue sky and the Canyon alive with the color and wonder of the dawn.

Leaving, we came home by way of Williams. We saw the mule deer once again and the birds casting their shadows. We looked for the great ravens who dance below the Canyon rim in their courting dance, who are upborne by the swift currents of air and loop and barrel roll, but we did not see them. Next time, perhaps. And descending to Chino Valley we saw a little herd of antelope. We ate our lunch in a sunny patch under the pines of Prescott. We saw more birds and rock squirrels and we saw the landscape change and, presently, we were back in the desert, the sun shone down, the elevation was lowered, the cacti were in evidence and the flowers of spring.

All my life I shall be grateful for this trip. I wish that every American could take it; every American who can, should. After the war there should be a pilgrimage to the Canyon as to a shrine -and every man will find there just what he wants-peace.

I hope, too, that more people go in winter. Spring and her flowering must be lovely; summer and her cool nights, and au tumn with her bracing breath. But winter is equally wonderful. with the blue sky and the snow and the pines reaching their great arms, with the song of hardy birds and the snow sweeping across the North Rim.

There is no special season here; all seasons are as one. All seasons are swift in this timeless land, this marvel, this carven wonder. This is a place which belongs to us and to which we should go, when opportunity offers, and stand silent and awestruck, knowing that we look upon an infinite patience the patience which is Eternity.

I am coming back.

Arizonans enjoy the luxury of tree-ripened oranges and grapefruit, grown in their yards. (Josef Muench) The spirit of Christmas will reign in Arizona, this year of our Lord 1944, from the pine laden hills and snow capped peaks of the highlands to the orange-blossom scented lowlands.

On the slopes of the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff and Mt. Mingus near Prescott skiers will glide over the inviting trails and call a "Merry Christmas" to their fellow enthusiasts, while at the Grand Canyon the yule-log will blaze merrily. On the great highland plains cattlemen will sit by open fires in their comfortable homes and hold family festival while under the canopy of stars a lonely herder will watch the heavens, unconsciously listening for a song on the wind, and scientists will scan the firmament for new stars and constellations through the great telescope at Mt. Lowell. From the mines and smelters workmen will return home from hours of toil to hear the peal of Christmas chimes and on the Papago reservation faithful Indians will crowd ancient San Xavier for the Christmas Mass. On the desert a "sour dough" will pause and look upon the melancholy countenance of his pack-burro a far off brother of the one who did homage to the Christ Child inthat distant manger in Bethlehem so many centuries ago, for the prospector and his burro are still familiar sights in Arizona, as they travel across desert and mountain in search of the rainbow's end.

There are those who believe the donkey is a sacred animal, in proof of which they will show you an indistinct cross upon his shoulders, placed there, they say, as a reward for service, once when he bore the Holy Family on their flight into Egypt to escape the soldiers of Herod, and again on Palm Sunday when he carried the Nazarene into Jerusalem for that last week of His earthly stay, facingGethsemane and Calvary, the most important week in the history of Christendom.

In the Valley of the Sun many will enjoy the warmth and the palm trees and a cooling dip in blue pools, while others will sit on open verandas and patios, lulled by the scent of orange blossoms wafted from nearby groves; and on the vast guest ranches riders will take to the trails and invigorating air of December on the desert-but to all it will be Christmas; the happiest season of the year.

In all our homes joy will be tempered by the concern felt for those young men and women in the armed forces and far from home in Italy, England, within the Reich, in distant islands and in prison camps, on ships and in the air. In the skies will be planes from Arizona flying bases, flown by boys from many states and other nations; and many a lonely family circle will find solace in the welcome afforded these strangers in our land.

The Christ Child of Judea comes to men everywhere and all men have received Him and sought to honor Him, sometimes in strange ways. Many pagan customs have become symbols of honor as the observance of His birth has spread from Bethlehem to Rome and thence around the world. The carols of all nations are a part of the traditional Christmas repertoire.

Christmas as we know it as a time of festival undoubtedly gained this characteristic in Rome, where the date was established as an antidote to the licentious Saturnalia of pagan idolatry: Other peoples gave Christmas the traditional temperate zone setting of fir trees, holly and mistletoe. Still others created beneficent saints the St. Nicholas of the English, Kris Kringle of the Dutch and Santa Claus of the Germans. Arizona has an ideal setting for the observance of Christmas an analogy may be drawn between our wide desert spaces and rugged hills with the Judea of Holy Writ and our rich valleys are replicas of those of the Jordan. Our fruit is of Palestinian character, our grapes, dates, pomegranates and figs rivaling the best from the gardens of Kedron. Even the dreadful crucifixion thorn is found on our deserts.

Giant spruce, fir and pine cover our mountain sides

Amen

Out on a desert sea of flowers, I found a sermon on the sands; From every tiny petal, In each perfect coloring The message flashedLike a solitary soul Against the wheeling universe; One fragile blossom held beside The desert's great immensity, Became the answer To each irksome task Or selfless act-done Without thought of thanks or gainA soula flowera deedEach a word on the lips of god.

A home in the Catalina foothills near Tucson, where the sun spreads its golden radiance and living is geared to the great outdoors. and mistletoe clusters in the cottonwoods and oak boughs in the best Yuletide tradition, while the star-studded skies lend mystery to the night and guide the Little Stranger on His journey on Christmas Eve. The moon shines upon giant saguaros and desert sands, and once upon a time a camel caravan was seen in these parts.

In the cities the church bells peal over all the land and happy carolers move from house to house to sing before lighted windows. This is the Christmas setting in Arizona.

Christmas first came to Arizona with the Padres, in their migration westward during the Spanish conquest. Possibly the first day of Mass and festival in our Southland was celebrated at San Xavier or Tumacacori. But in the ancient Hopi villages of Mesa land the customs of gift bringing and exchange of good wishes antedate the earliest known Christian observances.

The first community Christmas with the modern touch was held in Prescott in the territorial governor's mansion about 1864. The community decided that the few children of the frontier town must have a Christmas party, so the men brought in a fine large tree and placed it in the mansion; the women decorated it with what could be foundprobably paper chains and strings of pop-corn, then, in a room with a great log burning in the fire-place, the children gathered for the first traditional Christmas in Arizona. Presents for the children were freighted via Yuma and Ehrenberg and no doubt much of the funds for the party came from "The Row," where many lonely cavalrymen. gamblers and dance-hall girls longed for the home ties of Christmas and were determined that every American boy and girl in Prescott should know the joy of that season. The Church was probably represented in the gathering, since one member of the Governor's party was an ordained minister.

Churches grow in communities where the meaning of Christmas is carried in the heart; and so churches have grown in number in Arizona until the smallest hamlet has one or more. On Christmas Eve thousands of the faithful go into sanctuaries, dimly lighted and pervaded by soft organ music, heralding again the birth of One born in a manger and before whom the high and low bow down and worship. Prayers, audible and silent, will fill the air and airways for the safety of our boys and girls across the seas and for the coming of a lasting and righteous peace. The most joyful festival in all the world will, for a short period of time, overcome the destructive power of hate and bursting shells; and on a far off island a chaplain will lead his "Bushmasters" in the familiar "Silent Night! Holy Night!"

WITH THE COMING OF WINTER THE FOREST PUTS ON NEW ROBES OF SHIMMERING WHITE AND THE GROUND IS BLANKETED WITH A CARPET THAT DULLS THE NOISE AND MAKES THE WORLD SEEM TO BE HOLDING ITS BREATH AT THE SHEER BEAUTY OF THE SCENE.