Decked By My Own Halls

Maybe I can blame it on bad eggnog, but the other night I dreamed that I bumped into Dr. Seuss and Clement Clarke Moore while we were all searching for Christmas lights at OSH. (they were sold out, of course). For some reason, the three of us got to kvetching about the holidays. When I awoke from my slumber, the poem that follows was scribbled on the notepad on my nightstand. Yeah, that was some funky eggnog:

 
Deck the (Empty Nester) Halls

‘Twas the week before Christmas, when I said to my spouse

“It’s probably time to start decorating the house.”

“Ya think?” she exclaimed with a roll of her eyes

And then walked away while exhaling loud sighs.


Our neighbors had all done their homes weeks before

With lights on their shingles and wreaths on their door

Inflatable snowmen stood poised on their lawns

But passing our house produced nothing but yawns.


It’s not that I don’t want to join in the fun

And I certainly love the whole look when it’s done

But the boxes and crates and assorted gewgaws

All the lights and the garland – it gives me such pause.


I can’t climb a ladder with speed like I used to

And hanging from rooftops? Well, why would I choose to?

Our kids are all grown, it’s just me and my mate

This old empty nest is one great big blank slate.


And here’s something else that is no longer fun

Those new LED lights that are bright as the sun

They use much less power and help save the planet

But the glow they emit is as stone cold as granite.


So we scrounged and we hunted like highly trained canines

‘Til we found enough strings of the old-school type C-9s

We hung them all up and we turned them all on

And I have to admit, my reluctance was gone.


Then out on the street, there arose such a clatter

I ran (okay, walked) down the driveway to see what was the matter

Our mailbox was bursting, its door off its hinges

The mailman was there with his face full of twinges


He had mountains of catalogs stashed in his pack

With a gruff, Grinchy voice he intoned, “Oh, my back!”

He was sweating profusely and starting to quiver.

It was sad the poor soul had so much to deliver


But I thanked him and wished him a world of good cheer

(Though I’m sure he would rather I gave him a beer!)

Then I went up the driveway and back to our house

To finish my chores and make happy the spouse


Once the house was aglow and my wife, she was too

Our progress was good, but we’d still lots to do.

There was fudge to be fudged and eggnog to be spicing

And cookies to bake and then painted with icing.


We trimmed up our tree with ornaments so shiny

Was it festive and cheery? Oh, you bet your hiney!

We wrapped enough presents to fill up a sleigh

Then hung up our stockings and called it a day.


We were tired and sore and I needed a nap

When there came at the window a soft tap, tap, tap!

I looked up and saw him, that Jolly Old Saint

With his snowy white beard and his costume so quaint.


He gestured at all of our trappings outside

Then flashed a “thumbs up” and got back in his ride

Ol’ Rudolph and company then put it in gear

And took to the sky that was so cold and clear


I was feeling quite good (for one who is older)

When Santa turned back and looked over his shoulder

Then I heard him exclaim, as he turned back around

Merry Christmas to all, and I’ll see you ‘round town!

A Visit from Santa (Anas)

 (With my annual apologies to Clement Clarke Moore and a big, honkin’ “Thank you!” to So Cal Edison employees.)

‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through the Valley,

The shoppers were combing the stores, streets and alleys.

Looking for last minute bargains and buys,

Before they collapse with a whimper and sighs. 

Our kids had come home from their colleges far,

They were raiding the fridge and borrowing the car.

And me in my slippers and mom in her robe,

Were finding new patience to match that of Job.

When out in the yard there arose such a clatter,

I burst through my screen door to see what was the matter.

The winds had returned and were blowing quite hard,

There were branches and tree limbs all over our yard.

The moon on the wreck of my neighbor’s wood fence

Let me know -- from the wind -- we would have no defense.

Our gardener had come only hours before,

He had mowed and had blowed ‘til he couldn’t do more.

Then from inside the house my dear wife, she did shout,

“Oh crud, not again … our dang power is out!

The lights have gone dark and the heater just quit,

My blow dryer’s dead, I’m so mad I could spit!”

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a big snorkel truck that was loaded with gear.

With a no-nonsense driver, all frazzled and furry,

I said to myself, “This old guy’s in a hurry!”

More rapid than eagles, up our driveway he came,

He went right to work, never saying his name.

Checking our breakers and wiring and power,

That old guy was good, it was his finest hour.

A big coil of wire he had flung on his back,

And he looked like an angel with hope in his pack.

He was dressed all in denim and flannel and hardhat,

He worked fast with his tools, not once stopping to chat.

The end of a line he held tight in his teeth,

Transformer smoke encircled his head like a wreath.

His face it was weathered, his hands very calloused,

They worked wire cutters with such nimble prowess.

Then throwing a switch at the top of the pole,

He quickly climbed down and commenced to extol.

“That’s it, I’m all done, you can wipe off that frown,

You’ve got power again and the wind’s dying down.”

My wife was ecstatic, our fridge was back on!

We could once more leave lights on from dusk until dawn.

The meat in our freezer would not be thrown out,

The veggies and bread loaves and “fresh” frozen trout.

But who was our hero, I wanted to know?

This electrical wizard now packing to go.

I wanted to thank him with great gratitude,

To just let him leave would be terribly rude!

But when I walked over to give him our best,

He got back in his truck like an unwanted guest.

He started the engine and put it in gear,

Didn’t want any thanks, that was perfectly clear.

With a wave of his hand he bid us goodbye,

Drove away down our street with his headlights on high.

But I heard him exclaim with his window rolled down,

“Merry Christmas to all, and I’ll see you ‘round town!”

Note: This is a post of my column published yesterday, 12.22.11, in the Crescenta Valley Weekly newspaper (cvweekly.com).

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