Christmas at Eagle Pond by Donald Hall

I picked up this short book at the library just before Christmas. A short story of just 73 pages it is just long enough to let you set in front of the fire for a half hour or so and imagine a Christmas from long ago.

The author Donald Hall is a former poet laureate of the United States and writes like one. The story tells of the Christmas of 1940. The author, twelve at the time, and living is Connecticut is sent by train to spend Christmas with his Grandparents at Eagle Pond in New Hampshire. His mother has had an operation and so, though he loves his parents, he is actually quite thrilled to be joining his grandparents for the holiday. He explains that he often spends his summers with them but seeing the house and pond under a blanket of snow is a completely new experience.

The story is told over a course of five days. The days leading up to the holiday are spend preparing. He spends time with " Gramp" milking cows, feeding horses, and listening to some of the many stories his grandfather tells. His Aunt, his Mother's Sister joins them and they attend a Christmas pageant at the church.

We meet aunts and uncles, we hear about people long gone such as Freeman Morrison a man with a heart of gold that had something broken in him when his father punished him as a boy, a wound not healed until he found a shiny sled abandoned on the mountain as a grown man. His Grandfather is one of those gems of those times, no matter the season there is plenty to do and with, as he says the exception of coffee, salt and pepper the homestead is self sufficient.

A nod to Mr. Hall's unknown future is presented when for Christmas from his Grandfather he receives a book of Great American Poems. It seems even then both Hall and those who loved him knew his predilection for the written word.

In the end of the book is a confession of sorts from the author one that gives the book a wry twist but does nothing to diminish one's enjoyment just experienced.

Hall's novella hits all the right notes and while it will not solve any of the problems of the world it will take one and all back to a time that we all should miss. A time when simple things were blessed things. A time when, like the Ingalls girls with their very own tin cups and an orange for Christmas and John Boy Walton with a tear in his eye over the gift of some Big Chief writing paper, a present that would today be considered small had more meaning than the largest pile of " stuff " one could receive today.

I am sure I romanticize the world of The Waltons, Little House on the Prairie and now Eagle Pond. It might well be that the stories themselves are romanticized versions of how it really was. When one feels, however, like something is missing in today's world but does not exactly know what it is a reading of Christmas at Eagle Pond, stunning in it's simplicity will let you know what you are missing in your holiday and perhaps in your soul.