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Files Worth Saving
Tip written by: Infraspection Institute

With year-end in sight, many will begin the annual process of clearing out files and getting ready for the upcoming year. In this week’s Tip, we share some thoughts on files that you may wish to keep.

Recently, while cleaning out some old personal files, my family came across a classic Christmas poem that had been transcribed by my grandmother many years ago. The poem titled, “Jest ‘Fore Christmas” is a 19th century Eugene Field poem that recalls simpler times. The poem’s central character is a boy named William. It is likely that this particular work had caught my grandmother’s attention since her husband and oldest son were both named William.

Now as we read the yellowed and fragile notepaper that bears our grandmother’s distinctive handwriting, we can recall many fond memories of her and our family, especially during Christmas.

With the holidays and busy year end schedules upon us once again, we invite you to take the time to make special memories with family and friends and to file them in your heart so that you may easily find them in the future.

As we enjoy this holiday season, we extend a heartfelt Thank You to all of our readers, friends, and associates throughout the world for everything that you do for us all year long. May your holidays be filled with peace and joy and your New Year with good health and happiness.

~ Jim Seffrin & Family

Jest ‘Fore Christmas

by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

Father calls me William, sister calls me Will, Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill! Mighty glad I ain’t a girl—ruther be a boy, without them sashes, curls, an’ things that’s worn by Fauntleroy! Love to chawnk green apples an’ go swimmin’ in the lake—Hate to take the castor-ile they give for bellyache! ‘Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain’t no flies on me, but jest ‘fore Christmas I’m as good as I kin be!

Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him on the cat; first thing she knows she doesn’t know where she is at! Got a clipper sled, an’ when us kids goes out to slide, ‘long comes the grocery cart, an’ we all hook a ride! But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an’ cross, he reaches at us with his whip, an’ larrups up his hoss, an’ then I laff an’ holler, “Oh, ye never teched me!” But jest ‘fore Christmas I’m as good as I kin be!

Gran’ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man, I’ll be a missionarer like her oldest brother, Dan, As was et up by the cannibuls that lives in Ceylon’s Isle, Where every prospeck pleases, an’ only man is vile! But gran’ma she has never been to see a Wild West show, Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she’d know That Buff’lo Bill an’ cowboys is good enough for me! Excep’ jest ‘fore Christmas, when I ‘m good as I kin be!

And then old Sport he hangs around, so solemnlike an’ still, His eyes they seem a-sayin’: “What’s the matter, little Bill?” The old cat sneaks down off her perch an’ wonders what’s become of them two enemies of hern that used to make things hum! But I am so perlite an’ tend so earnestly to biz, That mother says to father: “How improved our Willie is!” But father, havin’ been a boy hisself, suspicions me when, jest ‘fore Christmas, I’m as good as I kin be!

For Christmas, with its lots an’ lots of candies, cakes, an’ toys, was made, they say, for proper kids an’ not for naughty boys; So wash yer face an’ bresh yer hair, an’ mind yer p’s and q’s, An’ don’t bust out yer pantaloons, and don’t wear out yer shoes; Say “Yessum” to the ladies, and “Yessur” to the men, An’ when they’s company, don’t pass yer plate for pie again; But, thinkin’ of the things yer’d like to see upon that tree, Jest ‘fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be!