"Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus."

In 1897, eight-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of New York's now-defunct newspaper, The Sun, concerning Santa Claus' existence. In response, Francis Pharcellus Church published the editorial 'Is There a Santa Claus'.  The editorial became the most reprinted English-language editorial in history.

'

Virginia's great-grandson appeared with the letter on the Antiques Roadshow in 1997, where the letter was valued at $20,000 – $30,000. You can watch a clip in which the letter was valued here

Eight-year-old to President Kennedy: "Save Santa!"

Eight-year-old Michelle holding Kennedy's letter in 1961

In 1961, after hearing her parents discussing possible Soviet nuclear tests at the North Pole, 
8-year-old Michelle Rochon grabbed a pencil and wrote a letter to U.S. President John F. Kennedy, asking him to sop nuclear testing for one special reason. Her letter, and the reply she received from the President, can be read below.






Dear Mr. Kennedy,

Please stop the Russians from bombing the North Pole because they will kill Santa Claus. I am 8 years old. I am in the third grade at Holy Cross School.

Yours truly,

Michelle Rochon

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

THE WHITE HOUSE

October 28, 1961

Dear Michelle:

I was glad to get your letter about trying to stop the Russians from bombing the North Pole and risking the life of Santa Claus. 

I share your concern about the atmospheric testing of the Soviet Union, not only for the North Pole but for countries throughout the world; not only for Santa Claus but for people throughout the world. 

However, you must not worry about Santa Claus. I talked with him yesterday and he is fine. He will be making his rounds again this Christmas. 

Sincerely, 

(Signed, 'John Kennedy')

Miss Michelle Rochon
Marine City, Michigan




(Source: The Letters of John F. Kennedy, published by Bloomsbury Press on October 29, 2013, via www.lettersofnote.com )

"Letter from Santa Claus" by Mark Twain

On Christmas morning of 1875, three-year-old Susie Clemens found this letter from "Santa Claus".  I'm guessing that her father Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) might have played "Santa's helper" that day. 

Palace of St. Nicholas.
In the Moon.
Christmas Morning.

My dear Susie Clemens:

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me by the hand of your mother and your nurses; I have also read those which you little people have written me with your own hands—for although you did not use any characters that are in grown peoples' alphabet, you used the characters that all children in all lands on earth and in the twinkling stars use; and as all my subjects in the moon are children and use no character but that, you will easily understand that I can read your and your baby sister's jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters—I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself—and kissed both of you, too, because you are good children, well trained, nice mannered, and about the most obedient little people I ever saw. But in the letter which you dictated there were some words which I could not make out for certain, and one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock. Our last lot of kitchen furniture for dolls has just gone to a very poor little child in the North Star away up, in the cold country above the Big Dipper. Your mama can show you that star and you will say: "Little Snow Flake," (for that is the child's name) "I'm glad you got that furniture, for you need it more than I." That is, you must write that, with your own hand, and Snow Flake will write you an answer. If you only spoke it she wouldn't hear you. Make your letter light and thin, for the distance is great and the postage very heavy.

There was a word or two in your mama's letter which I couldn't be certain of. I took it to be "trunk full of doll's clothes." Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o'clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to open the door. Then he must go back to the dining room or the china closet and take the cook with him. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak—otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse's bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, "Welcome, Santa Claus!" Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to be. Your mama will help you to name a nice color and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to contain. Then when I say "Good bye and a merry Christmas to my little Susie Clemens," you must say "Good bye, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much and please tell that little Snow Flake I will look at her star tonight and she must look down here—I will be right in the west bay window; and every fine night I will look at her star and say, 'I know somebody up there and like her, too.'" Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall—if it is a trunk you want—because I couldn't get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know.

People may talk if they want, until they hear my footsteps in the hall. Then you tell them to keep quiet a little while till I go back up the chimney. Maybe you will not hear my footsteps at all—so you may go now and then and peep through the dining-room doors, and by and by you will see that thing which you want, right under the piano in the drawing room-for I shall put it there. If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven't time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag—else he will die someday. You must watch George and not let him run into danger. If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and somebody points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus's boot made on the marble, what will you say, little sweetheart?

Goodbye for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen door-bell.

Your loving 

Santa Claus

Whom people sometimes call "The Man in the Moon"






(Source: Posterity: Letters of Great Americans to Their Children via www.lettersofnote.com )

"Behind the Mounds: 'The Children of the Sun God' "

Moundville Archaeological Park is located in Moundville, Alabama. The Moundville archaeological site, occupied from around A.D. 1000 until A.D. 1450, was a large settlement of Mississippian culture on the Black Warrior River in west-central Alabama. The community took the form of a three hundred-acre village, containing twenty-six earthen mounds, built on a bluff overlooking the river.

The book Behind the Mounds by Lona Mae Wilson, published in 1963, tells the story of the Mounds as well as presenting other fascinating material about the them such as the poem below. 

 In April 1935, with the cooperation of the Hale County Schools, University of Alabama, and CCC Camp #444, the Hale County Historical Society presented on Mound B, the pageant, “Children of the Sun God”. (Below is the prologue to the pageant, which may be read in full in Behind the Mounds).

Moundville Archaeological Park, as seen from one of the largest mounds

 The Children of the Sun God

By Clara Powers and Sue Ellen Moore

  In the remote past so far distant

  That time itself seems without reckoning

  Great Hordes of people left their Northern

Asiatic shores

  To seek new homes across the strait

  We now call Bering.

  Their purpose must remain unknown:

  Possibly a warmer climate: perhaps more

fertile soil,

  Perchance to seek the “Fair God.”

  Sufficient it is for us

  That they came.

  Nor did the trek end on Alaskan

shores.

  Now, slow, aloof, remote

  The walls of the purple, blue

  Rockies darken their path.

  From afar the streams

  Flow south and east

  Making confluence with he great

Mississippi –

  “Father of waters” the Indians

  Have called him.

  The forest abode

  Rank beyond rank, unaltered, under

the sky.

  There was in this land no road,

  Nor path, nor trail

  Save where the bronzed moccasin

  Sought shelter frail.

  The forest kept

  Its secrets hidden behind a

rampart of dense trees

  Unhewn by axemen,

  Still in the rains of April, loud in

  The Autumn Breeze,

  By river, plain, or hill.

  

  Forth from that region they went

  To sun-set faced:

  They rode past marsh and plain

  Through forest of pine, somber

with rain;

  Through groves of oaks up-rooted

  By storms;

  Through swamp and over prairie,

  On and on.

  League after league, day upon

endless day

  Through more lofty mountains where

  The deer

  Browsed in the dreary dawn till

  The hills

Rolled off at last, --they saw

  An empty plain

  A pale, wild river snaking

  Over its heart

  Wide fields of burnt earth linking

  Sky to sky

  And here they rested by the Ohio.

  Year after year, the clouds sailed

  Up from the South

  To signal the winter’s going; through

  The blue skies

  The cardinal flitted northward year

  On year.

  Walking with thunder-shoes the

  Rains remote

  Came storming from the Gulf

  Athwart the trees.

  Under that various striving called life

  These people lived and moved

  And had their being—

  Birth, wooing, warring, death—

  All in their time.

  The rain across the corn! The

  Burial Mound

  Piled high; the joy, the grief,

  The hope, the fear!

  So it went, year on changeless

  Year.

  Then suddenly as the winter

  Once more changed

  Its face, and over the somber maze

  Of branches,

  There drifted tender lace of greening

  Spring.

  A loud, clear call to journey

  Far to South

  Was felt by those stout hearts.

  Courage was theirs and undying faith

  That kindles other’s courage, makes

  It new.

  Out of the night they came

  Out of the North

  “Paddle to paddle spoke”

  Into the heart of the South

  Trailing the lilies past

  From the wild Ohioan lees

  To where magnolia swamps

  Lift to the balmy sky

  Their challiced buds of green.

  Here they paused

  On Warrior’s sunny shores

  To build these Mounds—

  Homes they were—and temples

  Their worship to fulfill.

For more information on Moundville Archaeological Park, click here.

"Parents: Too Much Halloween Candy? Call On The Sugar Fairy"

Children receive a ton of candy at Halloween.  Natural, organic versions of candy would be better, but still a lot of sugar is a lot of sugar.  We all know that sugar is not healthy and can be addictive.  Many candy manufacturers use GMO-derived ingredients from GMO corn and soy, as well as artificial flavours and colours.  They also use a ton of un-natural chemicals - BOO!  But it’s hard to refuse children when their friends are having fun trick-or-treating.  Here’s a good way to keep your children from gorging themselves on a bag full of unhealthy, refined sugar, bad (and GMO-laced) candy.  Some parents already call upon a Sugar Sprite or Switch Witch at Halloween to exchange candy for toys, books, or movies, here’s my version:

Among all the supernatural beings of the North Pole, there exists a Sugar Fairy (or Sugar Plum Fairy, or Treats Fairy, or Candy Fairy).  It is the Sugar Fairy’s job to create the sweetest Christmas treats, the candy cane.  She also creates a lot of the other sweet treats of the holidays, such as Christmas cookies.  But she is mainly known for her power to transform, or ‘recycle’, sugar into anything a child wants. But how does she do this?

The Sugar Fairy decided that children get so much candy at Halloween and that having that much sugar was not good for them, even once a year.  So she decided that she could recycle all that candy into Christmas treats, like a candy cane or Christmas cookie, as well as magically into toys and other gifts.  She could also transform it into food and help for other children around the globe.

So the Sugar Fairy sends out a letter to all the parents of the world:  After Halloween is over, they should place any candy into a special bowl before they go to bed.  The next morning the Sugar Fairy will leave a note, money, gift card, etc in exchange for the candy that had been in the bowl. Sometimes the Sugar Fairy might leave "Goodie Points" to go toward a special item or trip. (A note would instruct the parent to purchase a specific toy, movie, or book; or indicate the number of "Goodie Points" earned) 

When Christmas comes, the Sugar Fairy will ride with Santa to distribute candy canes and other Christmas treats.  But sometimes, she is so thankful she will leave goodies and little gifts for days before Christmas. When Christmas arrives, an occasional organic candy cane or cookie might be okay.  Christmas cookies can be made with organic, unrefined ingredients.  They can also contain dried fruit and nuts.

"Mark Twain Reviews Ambrose Bierce: 'The Laugh Is Too Expensive'"

Ambrose Bierce

Samuel Clemens

Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) was asked in 1874 by his publisher 

to write a review of the book  Nuggets and Dust Panned Out in California by Dod Grille,  

written by Ambrose Bierce.   The publisher, Chatto & Windus, 

knew that Bierce and Clemens had known each other since the 1860s, and figured a quotable review by Clemens might boost lagging sales of the book.  They got a review, just not one they expected.  And, needless to say, Clemens and Bierce remained friends.

Farmington Avenue,
Hartford

4/8/74

Gentlemen:

"Dod Grile" (Mr. Bierce) is a personal friend of mine, & I like him exceedingly — but he knows my opinion of the "Nuggets & Dust," & so I do not mind exposing it to you. It is the vilest book that exists in print — or very nearly so. If you keep a "reader," it is charity to believe he never really read that book, but framed his verdict upon hearsay.

Bierce has written some admirable things — fugitive pieces — but none of them are among the "Nuggets." There is humor in Dod Grile, but for every laugh that is in his book there are five blushes, ten shudders and a vomit. The laugh is too expensive.

Ys truly

Samuel L. Clemens





(Source: Boston Public Library, via Lettersofnote.com)

"The Mind...Can Never Again Be Washed Clean"

Samuel Clemens aka Mark Twain

In 1905,  Brooklyn Public Library ordered that all copies of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn be banned from the children's department, due to their characters' "coarseness, deceitfulness and mischievous practices." Asa Don Dickinson, a librarian, wrote to Samuel Clemens aka Mark Twain to inform him of the ban.  Mr Clemens responded with his signature wit.


The Letter:

Sheepshead Bay Branch
Brooklyn Public Library
1657 Shore Road
Brooklyn-New York,

Nov. 19th, '05

Dear Sir:

I happened to be present the other day at a meeting of the children's librarians of the Brooklyn Public Library. In the course of the meeting it was stated that copies of "Tom Sawyer" and "Huckleberry Finn" were to be found in some of the children's rooms of the system. The Sup't of the Children's Dep't—a conscientious and enthusiastic young woman—was greatly shocked to hear this, and at once ordered that they be transferred to the adults' department. Upon this I shamefacedly confessed to having read "Huckleberry Finn" aloud to my defenseless blind people, without regard to their age, colour, or previous condition of servitude. I also reminded them of Brander Matthews' opinion of the book, and stated the fact that I knew it almost at heart, having got more pleasure from it than from any book I have ever read, and reading is the greatest pleasure I have in life. My warm defense elicited some further discussion and criticism, from which I gathered that the prevailing opinion of Huck was that he was a deceitful boy who said "sweat" when he should have said "perspiration." The upshot of the matter was that there is to be further consideration of these books at a meeting early in January which I am especially invited to attend. Seeing you the other night at the performance of "Peter Pan" the thought came to me that you (who know Huck as well as I—you can't know him better or love him more—) might be willing to give me a word or two to say in witness of his good character though he "warn't no more quality than a mud cat."

I would ask as a favour that you regard this communication as confidential, whether you find time to reply to it or not; for I am loath for obvious reasons to bring the institution from which I draw my salary into ridicule, contempt or reproach.

Yours very respectfully,

Asa Don Dickinson.
(In charge Department for the Blind and Sheepshead Bay Branch, Brooklyn Public Library.)

His Reply:

21 Fifth Avenue,
November 21, 1905

Dear Sir:

I am greatly troubled by what you say. I wrote Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn for adults exclusively, and it always distresses me when I find that boys and girls have been allowed access to them. The mind that becomes soiled in youth can never again be washed clean; I know this by my own experience, and to this day I cherish an unappeasable bitterness against the unfaithful guardians of my young life, who not only permitted but compelled me to read an unexpurgated Bible through before I was 15 years old. None can do that and ever draw a clean sweet breath again this side of the grave. Ask that young lady—she will tell you so.

Most honestly do I wish I could say a softening word or two in defence of Huck's character, since you wish it, but really in my opinion it is no better than those of Solomon, David, Satan, and the rest of the sacred brotherhood.

If there is an unexpurgated Bible in the Children's Department, won't you please help that young woman remove Huck and Tom from that questionable companionship?

Sincerely yours,

S. L. Clemens

I shall not show your letter to anyone—it is safe with me.

 (Source: Mark Twain's Autobiography, Part 2)