Warm pandemic holiday wishes
With apologies to Clement Clark Moore, I offer an update of my pandemic-era update of his classic Christmas poem, “A Visit From St. Nicholas”:
On a night before Christmas In our little house,
Once again I was busy With my computer and mouse. Our stockings were hung In celebration of peace and freedom
Next to N95 masks,
In case we need ‘em.
We hoped the pandemic would move on by now,
But, alas, that was more than new variants would allow.
(Get vaccinated, folks! It makes me furious
That some still refuse to take this killer bug serious.) Anyway ...,
We decorated our house And our tree with great care, Although stores had more shoppers than they thought they would see,
So we barely have lights for our Christmas tree.
Our son’s in his room, Browsing online professions, But I think he’s really watching Reruns of “Succession.”
You know your kid’s joined the “Succession” fan mob
When he wants to hire an assistant before he has a job
But before I deliver my usual scold, he says,
“I know, Santa still brings lumps of coal.”
With that, I make a beeline for bed
With visions of websites still in my head
The warm climate-change night described in weather reports,
Makes me wonder: Will Santa show up in shorts?
As if on cue, I hear a sound so baffling
That I run to the window to see what is happening
On my lawn I see more than I could ask:
Santa and eight reindeer, all wearing new masks.
I quickly slipped into my coat and shoes,
Hoping for an exclusive interview
“Watch your step,” my wife thoughtfully warned,
“Reindeer might leave little gifts on our lawn.”
But I focused on Santa, still lively and quick,
Mrs. Claus’ vegan diet must have done the trick.
“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas,” I said as a gentle wind blew.
“That’s my line,” he responded. “But, I wish the same to you!”
“You look good,” I said. “No COVID-19?”
“You know me,” he said. “Always social distancing.”
“Do you still feel it’s weird to wear a mask over your beard?
“No, the elves made a face shield so I wouldn’t get sheared.”
He put on his face shield, barely fogged by the winter,
And apologized for “delays at the fulfillment center.”
“Are you merging with Amazon,” I asked with a hoot,
But with his toy bag, he already was rising to the roof.
How does he do it? I wondered with glee.
How does he deliver so much contact-free?
And how does he enter homes as much as he pleased,
Without somebody calling police? “It must be magic,” was all my parents would tell
And I gave that answer to my kid as well.
When Santa was done, he returned to his sleigh,
Looked at his watch and asked, “Is it still Friday?”
Yes, in quarantine, every day is “Blursday,” it seems,
But, thanks to Santa, some of us still have our dreams.
Fact check: Is Santa real? In the news biz, we learn to hold onto our doubts,But, to me, Santa’s story is too good to check out.
As politicians sometimes hedge, if he’s not a current fact, he’s an aspirational vision,
As real as we make him in our daily decisions.
Santa is a symbol in pandemic times of the many heroes who make life less fearful -The doctors, nurses, EMTs and aides,
Teachers, drivers, custodians and maids -Yes, the folks we take for granted, if we aren’t careful.
We pull together to help each other
That’s the American way, we like to say,
And with that, I wish you as Santa does, a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year and, without leaving anyone out, happy holidays!