MERRY CHRISTMAS!

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HAZMAT UNIT CALLED TO SHOW LOW HOME

Responding to calls from several concerned neighbors, Show Low's elite Hazmat unit, donning vapor-tight suits and self-contained breathing apparati, rushed to the city's famous landmark known as the Monasterio de Santo Holiday this afternoon. After closing fashionable 8th Avenue at both ends and cordoning off the property, the highly-trained agents broke down the door of the residence to gain entry, expecting the worst. However, to their surprise, instead of a rotting body in a pool of noxious putrefaction, they found Show Low's notorious and reclusive extrovert, St. Holiday himself, sitting alone at the kitchen table and weeping into his bowl of pungent beans. He appeared to observers to be physically unfazed by the nauseous fumes emanating from his home, though he was emotionally distraught over the loss of his beloved wife, who abandoned him recently to seek respite and refuge in California. Out of respect for the couple's privacy, details of this latest separation will not appear in this publication until tomorrow's edition. As a precaution, officers shut off all pilot lights at the residence and opened the windows to ventilate the rooms. When the air has cleared, and neighbors can return to their homes, a crisis intervention team will attempt to counsel with the sorrowing holy man. As an added measure, Meals-on-Wheels has been asked to provide him with some less-combustible food.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOSHIYAHU!

My Bicentennial son, Josiah Nathan Van Sciver the magnificent, born on this day in 1976, is best approached with reverential awe. I capitulate to the inevitability of his reign. He has the advantage of certain genetic enhancements, which have made him a true Person of Quality, giving rise to a cult of almost religious hero-worship among intellectuals, workers and students. If he were a video-game, he'd be the most downloaded in history. He is not. However, he is a triple-nominee for the You Go Award. He owes most of his personal growth to his angel mother and to the principle of motion. He is a child survivor of ghastly, inhumane conditions, and has been rescued from the very brink of the abyss by his wonderful wife, Sarah, the princess. Now he is thirty-three, which is, appropriately, the product of two prime numbers. His rare mind bubbles with truth. He is a wizard with computers. When asked why he has devoted his life to this technology, he responds, "It beats poaching elephants." His insightful sense of humor is seldom restrained. I am his father; there is no one else to blame. Finally, it should be recorded that Josiah would look a lot like the Mona Lisa , if he were a woman, a little younger, if he had a face like hers, and if he had a smile like hers. Happy birthday, son! Carry on the revolutionary struggle, and be sure to enforce the code of tribal honor at home. I love you.

AVIAN UPDATE

Huckleberry Duck and his huddle-bud Tom Chickee are living vividly here at St. Holiday's Avian Sanctuary (SHAS). Thanks to a carefully prescribed diet and a life of ease, they have each doubled in size, as the pictures attest. Huckleberry, we have learned, is a Crested Duck, a very fine specimen of that preferred variety. His inseparable friend, Tom, has been classified by our highly-educated poultry experts as "some kind of chicken, either male or female." In the process of rapid growth, Tom is losing his/her pink Easter dye. We hesitate to call him yellow, inasmuch as none of the birds at SHAS has ever shown any other disposition than raw courage. So, to the staff here at the sanctuary, Tom is merely bright. St. Holiday has spent so much time working with Huckleberry, he has developed a severe case of Duck Butt in his hair. This tragic condition may be attractive to female ducks, but the Lovely One thinks he now looks like a "clueless dweeb," whatever that may mean. Of course, the saint was always revered for his ideals and not for his remarkable lack of physical charisma. The enlightened recognize that the spirit of the chicken flock speaks through him and motivates the masses. Huckleberry and Tom love to spend time outside their pen, when staff is available to watch over them. In the evening, just after sunset, they follow the hens into the Chicken Catchatorium to bed down for the night in the straw. Updates will be posted every so often.

In completely unrelated news, informed sources, speaking strictly off the record, revealed that the imminently-eminent poet, philosopher and holy man, St. Holiday, has received numerous death threats from a certain Middle Eastern terrorist organization. Apparently, the recent PBS program, "Tour de la Monasterio de Santo Holiday," showed that the saint's toilet, known as "the Throne," faces toward Mecca, a gross insult to Muslims everywhere. As a precaution, St. Holiday will be spending the evenings in his secret bunker, located in his backyard, over by the corn patch, seventeen feet west of the patio, under the sign saying, "Private Shelter, Knock Before Entering."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JENNA LYNN!

When I grow up, if that is ever possible, I want to be the male version of my amazing daughter, Jenna Lynn. She has the gift of static cling for everything in the good category. She flies through life like a spiritual Electrolux, drawing faith, knowledge, charity, optimism, kindliness, and personal power from the carpets of mortality with exceptional grace, despite unrelenting opposition. It is humbling and inspiring to be a witness of her victories. I think only a few of her closest friends know how much adversity she suffers. She conquers through her faith. The six children in her care, fortunate children!, will learn the true meaning of love from her. One day, they will read her journals and understand how the Lord refined and purified her in a real cauldron of trials. She refuses by sheer spiritual will and perseverance to allow a bushel to fall over her light.

On November 22, 1976, I recorded a sacred incident in my journal, involving my Jenna Lynn. Concerning the previous Sabbath, I wrote: "Now, Jenna had not been in the best of spirits in the morning. In fact, she seemed over the past couple of months to be very insecure. She would cry over the least of things and argue and complain continually. Candy and I both have spoken quite harshly to her lately, which has not contributed to peace in the home. Anyway, yesterday at Sacrament Meeting, Jenna began carrying on again and being upset. I decided to take her home before the meeting ended. So, I and she marched home, and I put her to bed. Candy came home a short time later, and we began to talk about Jenna, and why it was that she was acting this way. We searched hard. Candy began to cry, and she said that she felt that she was ruining Jenna, and perhaps another family should have her instead of us. We felt unsure as to exactly what we needed to do for her and uncertain as to why Jenna was so insecure. Then I went upstairs to pray... When Jenna awoke from her sleep, I told her that I wanted to have an interview with her, which confused her, since we had never had such a thing. She consented and brought her little brown chair into my room to sit in as we talked. I sat on the floor, so that my eyes were level with hers, and I apologized for being so nasty to her that day, and I promised that I would try harder to be a good father. Then I told her how much I love her and how much she means to me. I related to her about her birth, how I had driven her mother to the hospital, shaking all over with expectation when the time came. I told her how beautifully white and radiant her mother appeared after Jenna had been sent down from Heavenly Father. And I told her how I had covenanted with the Lord, upon receiving the good news of her birth from the nurse, that I would strive to be a good father to her. Then I asked Jenna if she would like me to give her a blessing. She said, "Well, I guess you could give me a blessing, if you wanted to." And so I did. I laid my hands upon her head and touched my forehead to hers, as I knelt next to her little chair. A warm, peaceful spirit descended, and I pronounced words of blessing. A surge of spiritual feeling poured through me to a degree that I had not experienced before. Jenna began to be a little frightened, because she felt the same influence." In that time, there was no time. Our minds and spirits met as one, and we were ageless. I was more than a father; I was her eternal brother, and she was my eternal sister. I could and did communicate with her, spirit to spirit. I learned more about the truth of our eternal beings and about the power of the Holy Priesthood in those minutes than I have in the 33 years since. Moreover, the behavior that prompted our concern as young parents never returned. I hope it is not inappropriate for me to recount this sacred experience here on this happy occasion. Jenna is very wonderful. I have not been able to give her everything she deserves and would receive from a better father. I love her dearly. Happy birthday, little Jenna!

TOM CHICKEE & HUCKLEBERRY DUCK

A neighbor came to the main office of St. Holiday's Avian Sanctuary (SHAS) this afternoon with two vagabond birdlings, a chick and a duckling. He saw them walking together down the middle of fashionable 8th Avenue. Since they appeared to be bound for Nowhere, he immediately thought of Show Low's well-known ornery-thologist and his doting wifelet, The Lovely One. Their affection for all things small and vulnerable, especially if they have wings and feathers, may someday become the subject of a documentary. Upon application for asylum, SHAS accepted the two birdy buddies and made provision for their protection and sustenance, as would be expected at such a glamorous and incomparable retreat. The Lovely One has fussed and budgeted over the peeping pair. The sanctuary's three famous hens, Prissy, Pepper and Pearl, have been keeping their distance for the time being, wondering aloud what this intrusion may portend. Tom Chickee and Huckleberry Duck are now resting comfortably side by side in a makeshift wire and post pen, which is covered over by a bedsheet to thwart our dive-bombing, murderous hawks. The Lovely One is standing guard with a loaded pistol in the event some predacious cat or fox should trespass upon the domain of the refuge with evil intent. "I will send them straight to hell," she proclaimed, when asked what she would do if the new residents are threatened by such. All of this comes at a busy time for St. Holiday, who has been vying with Johnny Depp for the open ambassadorship to Somalia.

MY ORIOLES ARE RETURNING!

Having observed and recorded their migratory patterns for the past seven years here at Show Low's pre-famous St. Holiday's Avian Sanctuary (SHAS), we anticipated that our beloved Northern Orioles (Bullocks Variety) would return around April 15th. So, on the 13th, we hung a feeder full of sweet juice in our ancient alligator juniper, a favorite place of pilgrimage for these beautiful birds, and we watched for the first migrant to arrive. Right on schedule, in the afternoon of April 15th, the leader came with a greeting from Mexico and more southern parts. The Lovely One took his picture, and it is posted above. As always, the first is a mature male, an elder of the great tribe, which comes to the White Mountains here in eastern Arizona for breeding. It is a supreme joy to see the first one come. We know many others will soon follow in the days ahead. First, the males will arrive, and then the females. Many of these will be returning to SHAS, the place of their nativity. We will provide many feeders for them and keep them consistently filled throughout the breeding season and until they make their way to their southern home in August. It is a satisfying experience to facilitate the propagation of these magnificent birds. At the end of June, we will expect to see the first offspring brought to our feeders. We delight in their playfulness, agility and curiosity. They come right to our windows and peer in, watching our activity inside. This is all we need to renew our commitment to them for the years to come.

ST. HOLIDAY FILES TAX FORM EARLY!

Again the hyperbolic St. Holiday has established a standard for the masses, by filing his IRS Tax Extension Form one day early. "No one can accuse me of procrastination," exclaimed the holy man from the front porch of his Show Low sanctuary. Having just completed his latest sacred epistle, aptly named "Stationary of the Cross Wife," the White Mountain's Jedi of the Pen awoke from his fevered dreams at the Dawn of the Dad, and the first words from his mouth were, "I have a duty to perform!" How typical; how diligent; how inspiring! Moving at a break-knickknack pace, while patiently enduring the intense pleasure of his angel mother's hand-dipped chocolates, the one known widely as the Ancient of Weeks went into go motion like a SEAL sniper. Though the sight of the Tax Extension Form was as appealing as a cold catheter, the saintly one threw himself into the labor, worked furiously for all of ten minutes, and succeeded in the deed. Now he is possessed of an irrational, wild optimism that he will somehow be able to pay his tax bill at the end of the six month period of forbearance.

With regard to that other embarrassing incident, Saint Holiday has at all times insisted upon his innocence and continues to do so, except to the Lovely One, who happens to know the truth.

GERE REJECTS SETTLEMENT OFFER

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

CONTACT:
Address: Monasterio de Santo Holiday
White Mountains
Show Low, AZ 85901
Telephone: disconnected
Email: saintholiday@yahoo.com

Show Low, AZ - March 28, 2009
In a shocking turn of events today, attorneys for Richard Gere signaled that their illustrious client refused to accept St. Holiday's offer of settlement in a controversy that has garnered buzz around the world. Gere is demanding that Show Low's most famous holy humorist undergo full facial reconstruction to obliterate any resemblance he might have with the aging actor. In the alternative, the former Hollywood star would be satisfied if the A-list saint would agree to wear a mask in all public places and for all publicity photos. According to informed sources, St. Holiday immediately countered with the suggestion that the actor have his name boldly tattooed on his forehead to obviate the possibility of mistaken identity. Gere's attorneys swiftly dismissed that idea on the grounds that it would not be effective in the dark.

Upon hearing their response to his counter-offer, Myther Holiday challenged the actor to a cage fight at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas. The reclusive comedy genius interrupted his plans to audition for "The Biggest Loser" to huddle with the notorious fight promoter Don King and work out a deal.

All of this comes amid rumors that Gere was not born with his present distinguishing features but that he underwent facial-enhancement surgery in the 80's. If this is true, it can be expected that St. Holiday's attorneys will press a legal argument that the holy man has a predecessory proprietary interest in his good looks. According to the latest issue of People Magazine, the saint has never had his countenance "refreshed," to use a euphemism made popular by Nancy Pelosi's cosmetic surgeon.

The White House is expected to weigh in on the matter before nightfall. However, the President is not expected to be supportive of St. Holiday's position because of his recent public refusal to accept federal stimulus dollars. The holy one announced that he is holding out for sedative funding instead.

Why did Gere reject St. Holiday's compromise offer to shave his head? Strangely enough, Gere has been planning to shave his own head and join a Tibetan monastery within the next month. Sources inform us that he has already been fitted for his saffron robe.

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If you would like more information about this matter, or to schedule an interview with St. Holiday, please contact his publicist by emailing saintholiday@yahoo.com.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JONAH!

Today is my son Jonah's 23rd birthday. I wish him every happiness and the best of success in all of his worthy endeavors. He lives near Denver, Colorado, and I rarely see him anymore, which is very painful for me. I love him dearly. I thought I would post an extract from my journal, written on the day of his glorious birth. Take care, son.

5 March 1986, Wednesday

Today will long be remembered by Candy and me, as it was the birthday of Jonah Zachary, born at 1:40 P.M. at Rancocas Valley Hospital in Willingboro, NJ. We had lost a great deal of sleep last night, because Candy was having contractions. What a relief it was when the sun finally arose and the realization came that this was the day, that we wouldn’t have to wait until tomorrow again. Dr. Horn had promised that he would induce her labor on March 5th, if she hadn’t had the baby by then. When he had made that promise, he didn’t really believe that she would last that long. I can’t describe the excitement in our home this morning. The other children were really looking forward to this new baby. Some wanted a boy and some a girl, but all promised to love whatever it turned out to be. We prayed as a family around my bed and asked Heavenly Father to bless Candy and give her strength for the delivery. And we prayed that the baby would be well. Candy and I left the house a little early. We had an appointment at the hospital for 11 A.M., but our excitement made it impossible to sit at home. We drove to my mother’s store in Edgewater Park and waited there instead, talking to my Aunt Marge, Lynn and Mom. We laughed and joked until it was time to leave. My mother packed us some chicken-salad sandwiches and sweet rolls for our day at the hospital. We were nervous; my stomach was churning; Candy made no secret of her nervousness. The thought of what she faced made it easy for her to cry.

We got to the hospital just a few minutes before the hour of 11 A.M. and were quickly escorted to a birthing room. Candy was robed, put into bed, hooked up to the fetal monitor and given an I.V. Dr. Messick came and got things rolling by breaking Candy’s water in a very cruel manner. Fortunately, Dr. Michael Horn came on shift soon after, and Dr. Messick bowed out. Dr. Horn is marvelously sensitive and competent. He was Candy’s Doctor for Noah, and we had such a great experience with him that we wouldn’t think of going to anyone else. I settled down to read our first issue of This People magazine, expecting that I would finish it and have plenty of time to do some other things before the baby came. Surprise! Halfway through the magazine, Candy began to feel the pain quite intensely and to demand anesthesia. She commanded me to find Dr. Horn immediately so that he could increase the dosage. He came, and did, and also announced that the baby was nigh at hand. So we dressed in our gowns and put on our surgical gloves. Since he had agreed to permit me to deliver this baby, as I had Noah, he began to explain the procedure and what I could expect. It soon became clear that we wouldn’t have to wait very long. Candy screamed and pushed, not in stages like they do it in the movies, but in one long continual primal display of strength and agony. Jonah came directly into my waiting hands and I caught him as if I were crouching behind the plate in the final game of the World Series. He’s a boy! I was fairly exhilarated with supreme joy as I clamped and cut the cord and showed him to his weary mother. What a blessing! He is perfectly formed in every detail, without a flaw. I didn’t spank the little guy, but you should have heard him scream! What a beautiful sound! Dr. Horn taught me about the structure of the umbilical cord while we awaited the expulsion of the placenta. Then we examined the placenta. I was just fascinated by the whole process. Miraculous! I held my baby to my face and kissed him. Heavenly Father had answered our every prayer and had blessed Candy as had been promised in the Priesthood blessings.

Jonah is 7 pounds 14 ounces and 21 inches long. I love this son with my whole heart and the mother who suffered to bring him to me! May they both be showered upon with heaven's best blessings. I am so happy that I could fly!

By coincidence, Jonah’s birth resulted in the postponement of my pro-life trial, which was scheduled to commence at noon today in Cherry Hill. I am representing thirteen defendants charged with trespassing at the abortion mill called the Cherry Hill Women’s Center. My clients are thrilled about the reprieve and couldn’t help but recognize the irony of the situation. They have worked so hard to save babies and now a baby saves them!