Why Scouting matters . . .

I arrived at work one day and found a plain envelope on my desk - with only my name on it. Wondering what might be inside I gingerly opened the letter.

To my surprise it contained copies of a letter that obviously belonged to some one else from a time ago.  The "letter" all nicely handwritten and so forth contained some stats on Scouting and why it matters.  As most people at my work know that I am still involved in scouting they obviously thought I would need - or appreciate said letter.

See below (the text and an image of the original)


Take 100 boys

In your minds eye, take a look at any 100 boys who have recently joined Scouting.
Line them up in your imagination, of that 100 boys.
Only rarely, will one ever appear before a juvenile court.
Twelve of the 100 will receive their first church contact through Scouting.
Five of the 100 will receive church onwards and one will enter the clergy.
Eighteen will develop hobbies that will give them lifelong interest.
Eight will find their future vocation through badge working and Scouting contacts.
One will use Scouting skills to save another persons life, and one will credit it with saving his own life.
Four of the 100 will reach senior rank.
Seventeen will become future Scout Leaders and will give leadership to additional thousands of boys.
You may wish to consider the above mentioned points when you next meet your eager young people. It seems to make the scouting job very much worthwhile.

-------------------------------------

The interesting part is the first and second reference (court and church)
Further - it is boys only - no girls, so obviously written a long time ago.

I am wondering if there exists a "modern" set of Scouting statistics and if we can post them here.  Should you know or have some - please do let me know!   Also wonder if anyone famous in NZ past or present was involved?   I am pretty sure Sir Edmund Hillary was a former Scout.

Cheers

have fun










PS - found this from the USA

1. 181 NASA astronauts were involved in Scouting (57.4% of astronauts). 39 are Eagle Scouts.

2. 36.4 % of the United States Military Academy (West Point) cadets were involved in Scouting as youth. 16.3 % of cadets are Eagle Scouts.

3. 22.5 %  of United States Air Force Academy cadets were involved in Scouting as youth. 11.9 % of cadets are Eagle Scouts.

4. 25 % of United States Naval Academy (Annapolis) midshipmen were involved in Scouting as youth. 11 % of midshipmen are Eagle Scouts.

5. 189 members of the 113th Congress participated in Scouting as a youth and/or adult leader. 27 are Eagle Scouts.

6. 18 current U.S. governors participated in Scouting as a youth and/or adult volunteer. Four are Eagle Scouts.

a n d

Boy Scouts in High School Statistics
Total percentage of senior class presidents that were boy scouts	89%
Total percentage of junior class presidents that were scouts	80%
Total percentage of Student Council Presidents that were scouts	85%
Total percentage of football captains that were scouts	71%
Total percentage of basketball captains that were scouts	64%
Total percentage of school newspaper editors that were scouts	88%
Accomplishment	Percentage
Total percentage of Rhodes Scholars	72%
Total percentage of FBI agents	85%

Annual Christmas Epistle - Decemer 2014

 

When is a highlight not a highlight?

So it is my turn yet again to be creative with words and stuff. It certainly has been an interesting year! First up – Reinhold had fun packing a friends van – to the rafters. We had a practice run a few days before Christmas, then celebrated the holy day here. Roger and Julie came for dinner and while the ladies cooked and chatted the boys packed. It was literally packed to the rafters. That included 6 laptops and several desktop computers and LCD screens. Yes, yours truly was responsible for setting up and running an Internet cafe during the Jamboree. So with the van packed we left the next morning bright and early and drove to Picton to catch a boat to get to the North Island. We bunked down at a friends place in
Wellington and then had a ball at the Scout Jamboree held in Feilding. 10 days later we were exhausted and had to drive back to Christchurch – we got back just after midnight having been another 12 plus hours on the road. While driving up to Feilding we tallyed up the miles we would have done together and got way past 10 000 km of sharing the road in Roger's van. My boy just dryly asked if after all this time together in a van – did we still have stuff left to discuss / say to each other?!?! You bet we did!! You may be pleased to hear that this years jamboree was mostly a dry affair – not like the last one we had there in 2005 where we had major floods to contend with.

We just caught our breath from that and then the highlight of the year hit us – yes my cousin
Doris and her lovely hubby AND a good friend of ours came for a short holiday. We took  them on a long tiki tour through the bottom half of the South Island. Naturally it has been a busy time with seeing lots of places, exhausting, exhilarating as well. We ended up, between the four of us, taking over 6000 pictures. Which to print – which to leave out???? Hokitika / Lake Tekapo / Queenstown / Te Anau / Invercargill / Catlins / Dunedin and back to Christchurch – a total of 3000km plus. We had a great time and missed them after they left for Austria again, yet we have lots of happy memories.

We sent Grandad out to a senior cooking class where they were supposed to learn about cooking for yourself a single meal. On his second time out he had a fall and we took him to the gentle people in white – or do they now wear blue uniforms?? Anyhow – they poked him – prodded him and hooked up various cables at various body parts – and long story short – at his right young age of 80 years they fitted him with a pacemaker. Supposedly he now can step out in rhythm!!

After that little episode both Reinhold and Pam had a thrill of a semi life-time – we flew up to Auckland and saw Michael (not our boy) Buble in concert!! He's such a major Babe (and as a man I am confident enough in my own being that I can say that like that)!! We had fun bobbing and rocking to his tunes! The concert by the end almost ended up like a massive Kareoke session!! Songs well known and loved – 20000 people singing in tune – awesome!! Sadly it soon came to an end and we had to go and find our place of bedding – and catch up with a dear friend!! I took us longer to get out of the car park building than to drive across Auckland City!! Actually we hit the famous Auckland traffic congestion from the Airport to the Concert venue – a trip that should have taken no more then 30 minutes at best took actually almost 80 minutes. At times walking would have been quicker.

June rolled round and the mad boy that I am – I took a group of scouts again across to the
Westcoast for the annual camp over there. We visited Steve again and carved our own Pounamu (NZ Jade). Roger and myself again acted as mules - carting all the gear in his van. It was a relaxing camp as one of the leaders took on the role of running said camp and I was just there in case things went pear-shape!! Chris did a fantastic job and he will take his group across again next year – without me – so that will be a weird feeling. I have however been conned in taking another group across – so will still be involved with Scouts then.

Arguably another highlight – every parent dreams of THAT moment – when the kids leave the nest happend. After looking for ages – Michael and 2 lady friends he gets along very well with managed to find a 4 bedroom place in town for rent and so he moved out from our home around beginning of August. Yesss!! His 'new' place is older then ours and had some earthquake damage (which has been fixed) and he is a happy chappy. One of the girls he flats with had since then had a boy of her own – so he is getting a front row lesson in early baby birthing/caring/etc!! Michael is coming every Saturday Night (bang on 5.30pm) for tea and a catch up with his family – so we tend to hear his news then!

The next (and some say – THE most important highlight) was celebrating Pam's birthday in
August, so we decided to treat ourselves and booked a few nights at our favourite South Island spot – Lake Tekapo. Part of the treat was actually being in a hotel – so no cooking was involved – even breakfast was served and of course no doing dishes – after all what would be a 51 st celebration if you have to do your own dishes!!!. Wohoo!! My waist line certainly took happily on the extra nice food on offer!! It was great to be there in the middle of winter and yours truly this time REMEMBERED to bring with him a tripod – so had two nights down by the lake frontage where the Church of the Good Shepherd is and took some night shots –
until the battery got to cold and gave up!! Regular readers of www.oldbearnews.blogspot.co.nz/ will have seen some of the night photos I took. We also had day trips – to Lake Pukaki and saw the famous Mt. Cook – where – yes – we did the traditional thing with wine and salut!! We also bought some salmon from the local Aoraki Salmon farm!! yummmm!! Lunch up at the Mt. John Observatory with sparkling clear views of Lake Tekapo!! Too soon it was time to come home again and do the mundane everyday
thing – called work!! Just as well – we need the extra cash in order to repeat these special holidays!!

Reinhold (being a good scout that he is) had the opportunity and work during the general
election for New Zealand's parliament. He ended up stationed at his place of work – issuing votes to the public – then after close of time count all the votes. The team of 6 there had one healthy person on the night and the rest at various stages of illness – so extra counters were brought in and – so the story goes –we posted the second fastest result for the night. wohooo

The next highlight – yes another child left the nest. As I type Jonathan is on his way to Canada on a years adventure. The first 5 or 6 months he is stationed in the middle of absolutely nowhere and is “employed” as a ski lift operator! After that he hopes to be able to travel around or maybe find some more work in Vancouver. He may also choose to go over to Europe for some time – so keep your eyes peeled!! Walking home from work today – I realised that I have moved from being a 'home-dad' for 25.7 years to being – just – a DAD. We wish him well and know he will have a blast!! We did put on him one condition – given the family history – that he had to give us 4 weeks notice if he intends to marry a Canadian girl (so that we can book ourselves in for his wedding – in Canada). Turns out the girls over
there adore the kiwi boys – so he is having a good chance . . . . . Michael dryly commented that he now has to ring us before he is coming round, given that the two of us are now home alone he never knows WHAT we might get up to. Ahhh his mental images – need straightning out! :D

Highlighting Christmas this year and yours truly will be away again with scouts for 7 days ( I will be running a Photography base) and then we have booked a camper van in Australia early March. This IS a treat, as we celebrate 30 years of marriage in February – so we will fly into Brisbane and have 10 days to find Sydney. Mamabear plans to spend a whole day on a Gold-Coast beach doing nothing but having her feet in the sand/surf - while reading her e-book!! ^^ We might make a detour to the Hunter Valley famous for its wino-fino and plan to catch up with a couple of people we got to know via Scouting. This is not only a treat but also a test, to see if we can survive 10 days in such an enclosed space. Ultimatley we plan to buy a large caravan and do one years worth of travel around NZ = but that highlight will have to wait until we can afford to retire.

Well – I am working on another highlight – of finishing this letter and get it printed. Should really add photos . . . . hmmmmm WHICH ones to pick????? When is a highlight not a highlight?? When you have too many and we sure had a few this year!

Merry Christmas and a decent 'rutsch' into 2015

Mamabear & Papabear

Shocking news: Santa Claus’s true location revealed

This intrepid reporter from time to time does strike gold.  Last year I was particularly lucky to see Santa on his trial run (Santa Claus been spotted chilling out.html)

I truly believed this to be the “once in a life time” lucky story to report.

Alas – lighting does strike twice.  I was after a story of the hard working Elfs. No, not the famous ones who featuring heavily in a recent released series of Lord of the Ring films – rather their smaller and lesser known and very rarely seen cousins.  Generally they are very small, have a pointy ear (which reminds me that I must ask them if they have relatives on a certain Vulcan planet next time I meet one) and oddly enough seem to be happy in green outfits. Green – go figure!!

In any case – after months and months of undercover work and following a careful laid out and often disguised trail – I managed to get in contact with one Elf. Eric House (name changed to protect his identity) had a story to tell, but he was a shrewd customer.  He told me that he worked for the ‘Elf and Safety’ department which had, so he said, a very deep dark black ops department – totally of the books. A department that reports to no one in particular and is totally free of restraints although I am sure Santa Claus at least has some oversight. This Elf and Safety department warrants further investigation, as it requires no paper trail or indeed any forms to be filled out for any of its activities. Approval is tacitly always given. Its primary mission is to lay false trails, mainly for us “humans”.

It seemed to work too for the last few hundred years with the location of Santa’s workshop generally presumed to be on the North Pole. The Norwegians first fell for the myth and from there it took off for the rest of the world. The myth spread by the Elfs went as follows:  The Vikings had this God Odin who was the precursor to the modern Santa Claus. According to myth, Odin rode his flying horse, Sleipnir (a precursor to Santa’s reindeer), who had eight legs. In the winter, Odin gave out both gifts and punishments, and children would fill their boots or stockings with treats for Sleipnir.  Naturally he had to live further North then the good folk of Scandinavia – in a forsaken and generally very cold place – in order so that he could not be found and make totally un-disturbed his toys etc.  Thus the legend of Santa Claus working and living on the North Pole was born. Any self-respective logical modern person of course would know that this could not be true.  For a start the “North pole” is on a floating ice shelf so any attempt to go underground in order to hide the business of toy making would be – well, met with a watery grave. It has also been known that from time to time the Ice shelf melts away!

Naturally I wanted to know more – specifically to confirm a theory which I had formed years earlier but could never be proven. The price for this information was several cups of Eggnog (apparently forbidden liquid nectar in the Claus household).   So Mr House, the Elf slowly divulged some secrets – and as more eggnog was offered and consumed more and more secrets came out.  The primary secret is that Santa Claus does not live on the famous North Pole, rather – wait for it, somewhere in Antarctica!!  This makes sense and confirms the aforementioned theory.   Antarctica is a continent almost twice the size of

Australia and we know how large and mostly empty that is.  Add in the lack of people, and it is very easy to get lost there, or in Santa’s case to hide a workshop/living quarters.  Now some of you will say – “but yeah we know he is not on the South Pole – given that we have a permanent team of scientists stationed down there”, and you know – you would be right. But why should he be on the South Pole given he has millions and millions and millions of Acers of space to use where no human is likely to set foot on?

So apart for the added security and anonymity, why is his workshop located in Antarctica?  It has EVERYTHING to do with international date lines. Consider that the first landmass to see the new sunrise is New Zealand and consider that the delivery of all presents are accomplished on 25^th Dec it makes sense to fly his sleigh along the accepted air routes and along with the rising sun. Travelling in the opposite direction eg from Europe via Middle east then to the Pacific States would be counterproductive.  Living here in New Zealand we certainly appreciate being the first in line.  Who could forget the Fireworks displays on the turn of the millennium? I forgot how many tyimes we counted down to midnight. The only down side is that of course the Americas are the last on the delivery list – especially the South American countries.  However after a very long night of visiting every house, the by now I am sure tiered Reindeers, have just a tiny wee jump across the Southern Ocean and then can disappear back into Santa’s workshop somewhere in Antarctica. 

So Mr House – the elf - having spilled the secrets courtesy of some eggnogs, then made me swear an Elf oath on my life, that the only thing I could tell was the general gist of his story.  If Santa Claus ever found out which of his elf’s told this particular story he would be permanently banned into the gift dispatch division, which after a long life in the mysterious Elf & Safety black ops division is more like being in excile . 

Then again – I can’t help wondering if this was just another brilliantly conceived dark ops plan in order to confuse the real location of Santa’s workshop. Who knows??? And more importantly does it really matter?? Probably not.  The fact that there are more and more radar stations placed around the southern Hemisphere are pure coincidence and are there (I am assured by the local air force) to track weather phenomena.   

In any case – fingers crossed I was a good lad and Mr Santa Claus will stop by my place – a flying visit so to speak.  As for Mr House, the little green Elf – I never saw him again. . . . . .

 Have fun

 

Baby Jesus's first miracle performed

When a new king is born it is usually a time to celebrate.
Time to be happy.
Many go out of their way to celebrate and pay homage to the new born King. The story holds that 3 (at least - or more) wise men came to Bethlehem and paid their respects, thus creating what would be arguably the first baby shower party ever being held. Gold is of course a valuable commodity and sure would come in handy at times, but what baby Jesus made of Frankincense and Myrrh is anyone’s guess. It is not like you can bath with it or even eat, although it would disguise the aroma from the Stable. His heavenly powers were yet to be tested and the transformation of substances (the Frankincense and Myrrh) into something more practical and useful would have to come much later.
Such was the fame of the new born baby that the incumbent King became rather worried that he would be called upon to relinquish his grip of power and he decreed in his wisdom to kill all 2 year old boys (or younger) from the town of Bethlehem, thus solving his problem. He of course should have known better.

In a dream, and this is most naturally of course for how else is a Angel of minor importance to tell the parents of Jesus that they need to go and pack rather in a hurry and  preferably right now and leave their cosy little stable in the town of Bethlehem and also leave all their family members and home comforts they have enjoyed so far. This hurried departure of course raised a logistical question of what to take and what to leave behind as one person could only carry so much. Joseph did look at the ox in the stable and considered the use of the neighbours wagon so that the ox could pull Mary and the child along with the nappies and other assorted eating utensils one would need to feed both themselves and the baby along with the gifts from the wise men. Alas given that the beast was in what many would consider his retirement and urgency was the order of the day, he quickly dropped this idea and settled on the little donkey standing in the corner.
The donkey of course was only by accident in the stable. When the angels came down from heaven and cleaned out the stable and made it ready for the birth of Jesus, various animals such as the goat and a couple of roosters got removed from the stable so as to create a quiet and peaceful haven for the new born king.  There was to be nothing that could disturb the new born baby’s sleep. The donkey was allowed to stay simply because no one in the long history of their memories could ever remember hearing the donkey saying anything. Not a word, ever. It was not that the little donkey had nothing to say for it self. Far from it. It wanted to tell everyone that he was rather unhappy in his life. How else could he tell his keeper that the straw for eating was 10 days old and that a rather pesky flea just seemed to keep coming back and irritatingly made quarters right behind his ears where he could not scratch himself. His biggest gripe however seemed to be that no one would ever pay him any attention - least of all the other donkeys from the neighbour hood.  The donkey had a long time ago decided that to be mute was certainly not much fun, but nothing much he could do about that.  Joseph in his wisdom thought that this of course would be of immense benefit to him and aid in his quest to leave the town of Bethlehem on the quiet, after all with soldiers looking around for a new born baby the quieter they could leave, the better.  What better then a donkey who has never bayed. So he thought.
Thus Joseph had loaded up the donkey with his few earthly possessions he had acquired in his short life. It was a rather large load, what with the gold and Myrrh and other assorted gifts he had received from the wise men and the local well meaning Shepherds, not to mention all the carpenter tools he carried with him for you never knew when he might have need of those. Lastly he placed on the top of the little donkey near its head head the Baby Jesus who lay in a small wicker basket wrapped in a freshly made little woollen blanket, another gift from one of the local shepherd. 
Pretty soon they were off - much to the Donkeys dismay who would have rather have stayed behind and started to silently grumble about late night excursions and lack of consideration for suitable food for an animal such as his and why couldn’t they have taken the experienced Ox who surely could pull a bigger load more steadily.  All along the journey out of town the little donkey wanted to grumble - but what was the point no one would - or could listen to him, when out of the wicker basket came a tiny hand and began to scratch him behind the ear - right on the spot where usually the flea would reside. He stopped dead in his tracks and was amazed - had little Jesus understood him after all? He began to say a silent thank you in donkey language for the scratch, for it removed a long aching itch, and it sounded very much like a Iahhh Iahhhh, when he realised this were his actual words.  Amazed he tried again and realised that he could now talk.  Such was his happiness of having found his voice, that he began to tell everyone and anything he met along the way, how his voice had miraculous been recovered, this of course very much to Joseph's annoyance.  There went his plan to leave town quietly.
The Kings soldiers somehow got wind of the plan that the new born baby king might be spirited out of Bethlehem and anyone travelling away from the town of Bethlehem were asked questions - especially if you had with you a mother with a new born boy and especially if you came from Bethlehem and doubly especially if you travelled on a beast that simply could not speak.  For they have heard about the mute donkey in the stable.

A family of two with a very loud, annoying, and constantly baying donkey did not seem to be on their most wanted list. Thus, so the story goes, Joseph and Mary escaped all the way into Egypt - thanks to the mute little Donkey who miraculously found his voice.

 

The really true story on how Rudolph got his red nose

 

The true story on how Reindeer Rudolph got is red nose

It's Christmas again and the usual carols are being crooned around the malls and many other public places – not to mention around the office. People are changing their ring tones on their various i4 or i7 phones. You just can't escape the carolling of 'Frosty the Snowman' and Snoopy seems to be locked in an eternal reliving of his one glorious (so some say) victory over the Red Barron.

In any case one of the songs is all about the most famous reindeer – Rudolph. As the song goes Rudolph has a cold and thus a nice shiner of a nose – that saves the day and gides the rest of the team and Christmas sleigh. 

It is a common and well believed miss-conception. 

Let me tell you the story how he really got his shiner of a red nose.

Long time ago I sometime hung out with some friends in a run down, dark and sad looking little pub somewhere in Salzburg. On one of these occasions when I had walked in through the door, I found that the bar was empty, bar one sad, oldish, lonely looking and obviously semi drunk man. The bar keep just nodded in acknowledgement and gave me my usual drink, while raising his left bushy eyebrows and slightly inclining his head towards the only other patron in the bar – this being his 'signal' to be careful with the old guy and mindful of the conversation. As everywhere – it was advent and various Christmas tunes played in the back ground and I just settled into my drink and contemplated if my friends had forgotten our usual drinks night – when they played 'Rudolph the red nosed reindeer' through the sound system– to which and to my surprise, the old semi drunk guy I thought and what sounded somewhat derisively, just snorted. I slipped over and asked him if he did not like this particular song. The response from him was just a sad stare. Obviously he was not a really chatty kind of guy. He kept swirling his last little bit of beer round and proceeded to ignore me. I took this as a signal that any conversation had to be 'lubricated' so ordered 2 of whatever he had and asked the question again. Slowly the words came out and it became clear that I would only get the full story if there were more drinks involved – so ordered him another one of his drinks and for myself some strong coffee. So far I had nothing else to do but wait for my friends to arrive.

The chap – as it turn's out was a former reporter for one of the up and coming tabeloid news papers in the UK or somewhere over there, owned by some Australian chap named Rupert or Rudolph or something like that (he wasn't to specific on these details) and he insisted on making his mark in the news paper world with more and more unbelievable stories being published. This chap here – by his accounts – was THE top flight investigative news reporter and at the time was doing a story on Union movements across all and he meant all aspects of the workforce – including the elf’s and all other associated beings working in Santa Claus' workshop. He must have found out where Santa has his workshop I guess.

In any case – one of his contacts gave him a tip about a reindeer that can talk (probably more grunt) and thus sort of communicate with other people and said reindeer could be found somewhere in the Caribbean – possibly in Jamaica or St. Lucia. This chap, never to miss a beat, went to interview this “Reindeer'. Turns out, by his alcohol induced and slow rambling story, that the Union movement had gotten a foothold with the Reindeer's at the North Pole. This poor chap Rudolph never got a look into going out on the most important night of the year. He had to do all the training and stuff – but was never called upon to do the actual job. He must have felt like a spare tyre or something. Despite the local Union reindeer leader efforts and several meetings later– it was always the more older and experienced reindeer's that got the important job of pulling the sleigh with Santa and all the presents in it, and so it should be as you can only trust the senior Reindeer's to do a half decent job of delivering the Christmas gifts on time,every time, everywhere. So one year this Rudolph took matters into his own hands and went on strike – or more to the point left the place to go on holiday – somewhere in the warm tropics. After all what what was the point of doing all the training and then never being called upon to do the Christmas night run – something that, he told everyone that would listen to him, he could do in his sleep after all. He seemed to be very fond of telling that story to anyone in the bars and pubs, not that may would actually pay him any attention. A talking reindeer was just a bit to weird for most folks – so he drunk his cocktails mostly alone and enjoyed sunbathing on the warm sandy beaches of the Caribbean. The less popular side of the story was that Rudolph enjoyed his bacardi&coke just a tad too much. Northern reindeer that he is – he also forgot the power of the sun and ended up with a lof of sunburn – especially around his nose. After all how should a reindeer who works mostly at night during the darkest winter hours know about the effects of the sun in the tropics? So folks in the tropics were not to sure how much of a sunburned red nose he had. Suffice to say – it was a real shiner.

By now my talkative chap at the bar had several drinks, and told the story how he tracked down Rudolph and over the course of several days work extracted his side of the story and the Union movement at Santa's workshop, only to get a surprise two days before Christmas when the reindeer didn't show up at the bar. In fact no one had seen him since that time – except for the barkeeper who muttered something about Rudolph talking into some fancy tiny wee gadget that reminded him of earlier communication devices from Star trek. Ever since then the reindeer had simply vanished. The barkeeper thought he overheard a jolly dark voice speaking to Rudolph and along with a lot of 'Hohoho' and 'I need you' and 'Fog' and more 'hohoho's' the beast just took of. He must have looked a real sorry sight for northern eyes – with his sunburned drunken red nose.

By now, my ex-reporter chap at the bar had a few to many drink – courtesy of my wallet and he started to feel sorry for himself. He kept on muttering about workplace conditions and Editors who didn't want to publish his story and being unjustly fired, and something along the lines of having a holiday in the Caribbean on the News-papers expense. One look at my friendly barkeeper told me all I needed to know - he just sighed and looked at the heavens with rolled eyes, indicating that this was just another drunk who schemed drinks from unsuspecting patrons – in this case myself.

From memory my buddies never showed up that night and it was late so I decided to head for home – somewhat poorer for the experience. Some weeks later that winter it made the news that a former reporter from the UK was found dead, having lived rough under a bridge. The cold and the alcohol has got to him. Among his few possessions was found one old and worn photograph of himself (obviously looking younger and healthier) and a Reindeer with a red nose on some tropical beach. It was quickly discarded as a fake. 

We will never know the full truth – makes you think though . . . .

Have fun

 

Wie der kranke Vogel geheilt wurde

How the sick bird was healed

Stories by Karl Heinrich Waggerl

Loosely translated by Reinhold Muller

Initially, only a few people came out of the city to the stable, even some unsavoury people, how it always is when many people come together. Above all the poor and sick, the blind and the leper came. They knelt before the boy and bowed and begged fervently that he to heals them. Many were really helped, not by miraculous power, as they thought, in their simplicity, but by the power of their faith. For a long time, a little girl, along the throng of people stood at the door and could not squeeze through. The Mother Mary called her at last. "Come in!" She said. "What have you got in your apron?" The girl took the tip apart and there perched a bird in the towel, scared and dishevelled, a very small bird. "Look at him," the girl said to the Christ child, "I have taken him away from the boys and then the cat also wanted to eat the bird. Can not you make him healthy again? If I give you my doll for it? Oh, the doll! It was still a difficult situation. The Saint Joseph scratched his bald head, otherwise a prudent man, and the sick people all standing in their misery around her and stared at the half-dead bird in the apron. Does a Bird have a faithful soul? This seemed unlikely. But you know, the Christ child himself did not know as accurately back then and therefore he looked once quickly to the top where the little angel was sitting in the rafters. The little angel flew down to help the bird as they were indeed their favourite companions under heaven. Now it smoothed the sick feathers and cleaned him, it relocated one wing and carefully presented him with the tail again, because what is a bird without a tail - a miserable thing. Of all this the people heard or saw nothing of course! It looked just like the feathers of the bird gradually smoothed themselves out, and he tore open the beak and tried to chirp a little. And suddenly he lifted the wings. Blessed with a cry, he swung himself over the heads off into the blue. The Crowd was amazed and praised God for this miracle. Only the little girl stood still and held the tip of her apron open. But there was nothing in it except a golden feather. And that did not have to be a bird's feather, for it could also have been lost by one of the angels in their zeal to help the bird.




Have fun
 

Der störrische Esel und die süße Distel

Der störrische Esel und die süße Distel

(Karl Heinrich Waggerl)

loosely translated by Reinhold Muller

The stubborn donkey and the sweet thistle:

When St. Joseph in a dream was told that he had to flee from the wickedness of Herod and his family, in this evil hour the angel awakened the donkey in the stable. "Get up!" he said condescendingly. "You may carry the Virgin Mary with the Lord to Egypt." The donkey did not like that. He was not a very pious ass, but rather a little stubborn in mind. "Can you do this not yourself?" he asked sullenly. "You have wings, and I have to haul anything on my back! Why to Egypt, it is so far away!"
"Safety first!" said the angel, and that was one of the sayings that must be obvious even to a donkey. When he trotted out of the barn and got to see what Joseph had collected as cargo for him to carry, the bedding for the new mother and a pack of diaper's for the baby, the little box with the gold from the kings and two bags of frankincense and myrrh, a loaf of cheese and a smoked meat, the rod of the shepherd, the water hose, and ultimately Mary herself and the well-fed boy, he immediately began again grumbling and went on and on. And truly no-one understood him except the baby Jesus. "Always the same," he said, "with the poor beggars! With nothing they came, and already they have a load for two pair of oxen together. I'm not a hay wagon," said the donkey, but he looked like one, as Joseph took him by the halter, you hardly could see the hooves. The ass arching his back to push around the load in order to evenly re-distribute the load, and then he ventured a step carefully, because he thought that the tower would collapse on him as soon as he put one foot ahead. But strangely, suddenly he felt wonderfully light on his feet, as if he'd been carried himself, he danced almost over every rock and branch into the darkness.
Not long, and that annoyed him again. "Will you mock me?" he growled. "Am I not the only donkey in Bethlehem, which can carry four bags of barley at once?" In his anger he suddenly put his legs in the sand and went a step no more from the site. "If he beats me even now," thought the donkey bitterly, "then he has all his stuff lying in the ditch!" Alas, Joseph did not hit him. He reached under the bedclothes and looked for the ears of the Donkey, to scratch him in-between. "Run a little more," said St. Joseph gently, "we rest soon!" Then the donkey sighed and sat back in trot. "This is meant to be a great saint," he thought, "and does not even know how to drive a donkey!" By now it was day, and the sun was burning hot. Joseph found a thicket, which was dry and thorny in the desert, in his meagre shade he wanted to rest Maria.  He unloaded and made a fire to cook a soup, the donkey saw it full of distrust. He waited for his own food, but only so he could despise it. "I'd rather eat my tail", he muttered, "than your dusty hay!" However, there was no hay, not even a mouthful of straw, for St. Joseph in his concern for his wife and child had forgotten it totally. Immediately, the donkey got an irrepressible hunger. He let his bowels growl so loud that Josef to be looked horrified, because he thought a lion was sitting in the bush. Meanwhile, the soup was cooked, and all of them ate, Mary ate some, and Joseph spooned down the rest, and the child drank at his mother's breast, and only the donkey stood there and had not a single blade of grass to chew. The only thing growing were some thistles in the rubble. "My Lord!" said the donkey angry and sent a long speech to the baby Jesus, a donkey talk, but truly astute and uncommonly clear in all, what was the suffering creature to complain before God. "I A   he cried at the end, that is:"as I am a donkey" The child listened to everything attentively. When the donkey was finished, it bent down and broke a thistle stalk, which it offered to him. "Good!" he said, offended to the core.

"So I just eat a thistle!" But in thy wisdom thou shalt foresee what will happen then. The spines will puncture my belly, so that I must die, and then you see how you travel to Egypt!" Furious, he bit into the hard herb, and immediately his mouth was open. Because the thistle tasted absolutely not, as he had expected, but after the sweetest honey clover, after spiciest vegetables. No one can imagine something so delicious, unless you would be a donkey. For this time the Donkey forgot all his resentment. He put his long ears reverently together, which means with a donkey as much, as if we fold our hands in prayer.





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Wozu die Liebe den Hirtenknaben veranlasste

WOZU DIE LIEBE DEN HIRTENKNABEN VERANLASSTE

Stories by Karl Heinrich Waggerl

Loosely translated by Reinhold Muller

What love made the small shepherd-boy do:

In that certain night, when to the Shepherds appeared that night the beautiful star in the sky and they all made ​​their way as had been shown by the small angel, there was also a small boy, and he was so small and yet so poor that the others did not want to take him along, because he had nothing anyway he could give to the child of God.  This the tiny tot could not accept. He ventured secretly and all alone on the wide path and came right on into Bethlehem. But once there he found that the others had already gone home again, and everything slept in the barn. Saint Joseph slept, his wife Mary slept, also the angels under the roof slept well, and the ox and the donkey and even the mouse under the floor board was asleep, only the baby Jesus was not asleep. It lay very still on his bed of straw, a bit sad perhaps in his abandonment, but without shouting and fidgeting, because he was a very good child, as you can imagine. Now the Christ child looked at the boy, as he stood before the manger and nothing in his hands, not a piece of cheese and no flakes of wool, absolutely nothing. And the small boy in turn looked to the Christ child, as it had to lie there and had nothing against the boredom, no rattle and no ball of yarn, no nothing. Then the small boy felt deeply sorry for the Christ child. He took the tiny fists in his hand and turned his thumb out and put it into the Christ Child's mouth. And from now on, baby Jesus never had to be sad again, for the poor, little guy had given him the
most precious thing that you could give a baby: his own thumb.





 

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Warum der schwarze König Melchior so froh wurde

Warum der schwarze König Melchior so froh wurde

Stories by Karl Heinrich Waggerl

Loosely translated by Reinhold Muller

Why the black King Melchior became so happy

Gradually the rumour spread about the wonderful child with the glow around his head, and it penetrated to the remotest countries. There lived three kings as neighbours, the oddly named  Kaspar, Melchior and Balthasar, as is named today with a stable hand or a simple beggar.  But they were nonetheless real kings and what is still more remarkable, wise men.  According to the testimony of ancient Scripture, they read and understood the course of the stars of heaven, and that is a difficult art, as anyone knows who has ever tried to run after a star. Thus, these three got together, they set a splendid entourage, and then they travelled urgently with camels and elephants in the evenings. During the day, people and animals rested under the rocks in the rocky desert, and the star that they followed, waited patiently in the sky and did a little sweating in the heat of the sun, until it finally became dark again. Then the star walked again and shone forth solemnly and showed the way to kings who followed the star.
In this way, the trip went ahead well, but as the star moved beyond Jerusalem to Bethlehem, the three kings refused to follow the star further. They thought that if there was a Prince's child to attend, then it must surely lie in a castle and not in a poor village.
The star got, as it were, in a white heat of despair, he jumped up and down and waved and waved his tail, but that did not help. The three wise men were of such misunderstanding that they could not understand for a long time, what common sense would make clear.
Thus it occurred that the star faded the morning. He sat sadly in the crown of a tree next to the barn and everyone who passed by, thought he was nothing more than a forgotten lemon in the branches. It was not until the night that he climbed out and jumped through the roof. The kings were happy to see the star again and head over heels they came with their camels. All day they had been looking for the promised child and found nothing, because in the castle in Jerusalem sat just a disgusting fat guy named Herod.
Now one of the three kings, who was named Melchior, was a Moor, tree long and so inky black that even in the bright light of the star there was no sign of him apart from a pair of eyeballs and some terrible teeth.
At home they had raised him to be the king, because he was still a little darker than the other blacks, but now Melchior realized to his chagrin, that this country was looking at him as if he stuck in the skin of the devil himself.
On the way all the kids were screaming and seeking refuge in the bosom of their mother, whenever he bent down from his camel, to give them sweets, and the women would have crossed themselves, if back then they had already had known how as a Christian to protect themselves against challenges.
The last of the three Kings, Melchior stepped timidly before the Christ child and threw himself to the ground. Oh, how he would have liked to show now only the teeniest white spot or at least some of his insides could return to the outside!
He covered his face, full of fear, unsure if also the child of God would revile before him.
But because he heard no more shouting, he ventured a little squinting through his fingers, and truly, he saw the Christ Child smile and stretch out his hands to touch Melchiors afro-hair. Happy beyond measure was the black king! He had never so great rolled his eyes and bared teeth from ear to ear. Melchior could not help it, he had to hold the child's feet and kiss all his toes, as was the custom of his country.

But as he untied the hands again, he saw the miracle - they had become white inside! And since then, all Ethiopians have light palms, just go there and see it for yourself and greet them as brothers.

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Why the angel had to laugh on Christmas night

Why the angel had to laugh, on Christmas night

Loosely translated from an unknown Author

The impending birth of the Christ child proved to be quite a headache for the angels. They had to be very careful in their planning of course, so that people on earth noticed none of it happening. After all, the child should be born in silence and not amidst any noise and mayhem that could generally be found in Nazareth, at the weekly market there.
Problems were also found within the interior of the Bethlehem stable. A loosened board at a feeding crip was deemed as too dangerous, but has anyone ever seen an Angel with a hammer and nail?! The straw on the crib bed itself felt too hard, and the hay smelled not really good enough. In the barn itself, several lanterns were missing their oil.
As far as the animals were concerned, the Angels had to consider all kinds of them. At the 'specially chosen place, for the choir of angels to sing their song, -  hung a hornet's nest. This of course had to be evicted. After all, who knows if wasps are insightful enough to understand the miracle of the Holy Night? The flies that had found a home on the ox and ass, should not be buzzing around the divine child's nose or disturb it, even in its sleep. No, no animal which could cause discomfort to the Christ Child during the most holy of nights could the angels forget to consider!
Under the floor in the house lived a little mouse. It was a funny little mouse, which had a sunny disposition, even when the cat was after him. In these times, it quickly escaped back to his mouse-hole. In autumn, the mouse had diligently collected fruits and grains; now it slept in its cosy nest. "This is good", thought the angel in charge, "he who sleeps does not sin", and disregarded the mouse from further deliberations.
Eventually after all the work was done, the little messengers of God went back home into the sky. An angel was left back in the barn; he should assist the Virgin Mary in their hour of need. So that he would not be outed as being an angel, he took off his wings and laid them carefully in a corner of the stable. When Mother Mary gave birth to the Christ child, she was indeed very grateful for the help of the little angel.
Before to long the shepherds, after they had heard the good news, and their dogs and all the sheep came pay to visit. Although the men were trying to be quiet, and arrived at the stable walking on tiptoe, the footsteps still sounded hard and loud on the wooden floor and the floorboards creaked very loudly. Was it any wonder that the mouse woke up in her nest? She peeked out of the mouse hole and heard the voice of "A child is born to us ...", but could see nothing.
Curious, she left her protective nest and quick as a flash the cat was chasing after her - it is after all, what cats do, even on a holy night such as this. The little mouse quickly wanted to be back in its mouse hole, but by now, a shepherd had put his foot in front of it. "Holy Night or not," the cat said to the terrified mouse, "now I'll get you!"
And so the wild hunt kept going on and on. The mouse, in fear, flitted from one corner to the other, darted between the legs of the shepherds, darted under the crib with the cat always half a step behind the mouse. Meanwhile the guard dogs barked and the sheep bleated anxiously. Somewhere a hen cackled excitedly. The shepherds did not quite know what was going on, because they actually had come to worship the child. By now, they could no longer understand their own word, and everything was running around in total confusion: It was indeed just like in Nazareth at the weekly market.
When the angels in the sky saw this, they drooped their wings -- literally. It is comforting to know, that angels even as infallible beings that they are, could not anticipate everything. Meanwhile the little mouse, however, was in agony. It believed his last second of life has already come. Finally in total distress and as a last resort - it fled among the angels wings. In the same moment it felt itself lifted and gently removed from the cats chasing paws. The little mouse did not know what hit him. It floated up to the roof rafters, where it held on  tight to the little angels wings. In addition to the safety gained, it now had a wide view below of all the action in the barn!
The cat looked incredulously in every corner for its prey, but otherwise everything and everybody calmed down. The guard dog were guarding the resting sheep. The shepherds knelt before the manger and gave the Christ Child the gifts they had brought. The Christ Child radiated light and warmth, then smiled to the mouse, like it wanted to say, "Right, we know for whom down here the cat is looking for!" No-one else had noticed anything of the incident. Apart from the angel of course, who secretly laughed when he saw the mouse with its wings floating in the rafters. He chuckled and chuckled in spite of this especially holy hour, 'till St. Joseph, somewhat irritated, ended up scratching his bald head. However, it did look funny how the still astonished little mouse with big wings hovered in the air, up in the rafters and in total safety. You know - even to this very day, all the mouse's descendants during the Holy Night, tell this ancient story. So open your Belfry's  and towers for them -- bats -- to find a safe home, just as it was in the stable of Bethlehem.




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