Another Christmas is almost here. Another Christmas that many families will be spending together. Unfortunately, there will be many families in America separated by an ocean and a desert.

I get lots of e-mail jokes, poems and essays of all types from family members and friends.

Recently I received this from Helen White, local artist, writer and nurse/veteran of the Vietnam War.

Although it may not be new to many of you who also receive emails, I think it deserves to be read by us all.

Supposedly written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa, Japan it gives us a little glance into the circumstances many of America's young men and women will be facing through the holidays and probably many months afterwards. The e-mail states the Marine who wrote it wants it shared with as many people as possible -- so here's my part in that effort.

"'Twas the night before Christmas.

He lived all alone,

In a one-bedroom house made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give,

And to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,

No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,

On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,

A sober thought came through my mind.

For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,

I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,

Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.

The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,

Not how I pictured a United States soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?

Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realized the families that I saw this night,

Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.

Soon round the world, the children would play,

And grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,

Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,

On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.

The very thought brought a tear to my eye,

I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,

"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;

I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,

My life is my God, my country, my corps."

The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,

I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours, so silent and still

And we both shivered from the cold night's chill.

I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark, night,

This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,

Whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure." One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.

"Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night."

Until the next time friends remember; the best gift you can send a soldier, is a letter to your Senators and Representatives requesting they keep our fighting men and women well supplied with food, weapons, armor, and the hope of being home for the next Christmas.