COLUMN: Climbing aboard the ‘Polar Express’

I have a list of Do’s and Don’ts for the holiday season. They are my steadfast “rules for yules.’’

DO take the price tags off gifts before I wrap them.

DO NOT regift. (It’s embarrassing when you forget and give the same present back to the person who gave it to you.)

DO put some extra money in the Salvation Army kettle.

DO NOT stay in the same room where fruitcake is being served.

DO watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” on Christmas Eve.

DO NOT get my wife anything related to the kitchen. 

DO remember the reason for the season.

I usually take my own advice. Here’s one to add.

DO read “The Polar Express” to a class of schoolchildren.

On Wednesday, I checked that off my list.

Our youngest grandson, Bennett, is a preschool student at Stratford Academy.  I asked his teacher, Susan Rozier, if I could read “Polar Express” to his class on Wednesday. The kids were adorable. It was the highlight of my day.

Most of them were familiar with the story. Their parents and grandparents had read it to them. Some had seen the movie. A few raised their hands when I asked if they had ridden on the Polar Express or other holiday excursion trains in places like Blue Ridge, Cordele (SAM Shortline) and Stone Mountain.

They traveled with me through the 1,054 words of Chris Van Allsburg’s beautifully illustrated book. It is my favorite children’s Christmas story, along with “The Night Before Christmas” and “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.’’ 

It is a classic. This year marks the 40th anniversary of its publication in 1985. I read it to my children. And now I’m reading it to my children’s children.

The students sat crosslegged on the floor as I turned the pages. 

Most of you are familiar with the story.  The little boy sits in his bed on Christmas Eve, listening out for the ringing bells of Santa’s sleigh. The conductor pulls him aboard a train filled with other children, all in their pajamas and nightgowns. They sing carols, eat candies and drink hot cocoa. They arrive at the North Pole, where they are greeted by Santa and his elves. Santa picks the little boy, out of all the others, to receive the “first gift of Christmas.’’

The little boy’s simple request is a silver bell from Santa’s sleigh. But he loses it on the way home because he has a hole in the pocket of his bathrobe.

He is heartbroken, but on Christmas morning his sister, Sarah,  finds a small gift for him under the tree with a note. “Found this on the seat of my sleigh. Fix that hole in your pocket. Signed, Mr. C.’’

I get emotional when I reach the last page. I have to make it through those last three sentences with a lump in my throat.

“At one time most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I’ve grown old, the bell still rings for me as it does for all who truly believe.’’

I always reach in my pocket and pull out a tiny bell.

I hold it up, ring it, and tell them I have always believed.