The Night Before Christmas (In a Crumbling House)…
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Not an appliance malfunctioned for me or my spouse
The sewer was augured, the fridge was replaced
The dishwasher’s new in its stainless steel case
The electrical panel is expanded and new,
Now we can turn on the microwave and not blow a fuse
The fifty year-old furnaces were torn out and scrapped
Now the new ones are efficient and they don’t blow out crap
The toilets that exploded have now been removed
The new ones are perfect with less water use
The carpets are up and the floors have been sanded
The bids are all in to have the bathroom expanded
The lights have been checked, and the faucets don’t leak
Indeed all of these problems are beyond our belief
And as I lay down to sleep having written this spoof
I’m just praying that Santa doesn’t screw up our roof
It always seems to me that this time of year is stressful for a lot of people. Indirectly, I’ve always picked up on the materialism and enforced gift-giving, and consequently, I have always rued the Christmas season. This is probably because I am so truthful and good that even a hint of insincerity sends me into a tailspin. Ironically, this year I haven’t had the time to notice the holiday mayhem. The other day, I suddenly realized that Christmas was upon us, when I was wandering around in Home Depot, for about the tenth time in a week, and there was very strange Christmas music playing over the P.A. I think I’ve been in a stupor of shocked disbelief for the past four weeks, expecting a new crisis to surface at any moment. The Christmas music was merely haunting background noise.
Though I’ve never been much of a fan of the holiday itself, I am a big fan of the music it has spawned over the years, particularly the comedic songs. Certainly, one of MY favorites – and I’m not even sure if I know the proper title – is “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”. Speaking of laughter, I got a belly laugh out of some pictures in this week’s Saturday Toronto Star. On page B4 there are 9 photographs of Santa with children, and only three of the thirteen kids aren’t crying. For some reason, the photos reminded me of a very funny David Sedaris story, which I am sure I have mentioned in this report before, called “The Santaland Diaries”. In it Sedaris recounts his experiences as a hired elf at Macy’s in Manhattan during the Christmas season. It is one of the funniest things I have ever read. I realize that the real Santa is busy at the North Pole, and that these impersonators / helpers are perhaps not as jolly and comforting as the real deal, but come on folks. Is forced exposure to this parade of pseudo-Santas really good for your kids? Most of them don’t know this guy from an ax murderer. I suppose it is a holiday tradition to snap a photo of your toddler with Santa, crying hysterically, then to throw that snapshot back in the child’s face when he or she is old enough to find it embarrassing. I think it has something to do with a subliminal desire by the parents, after having sacrificed everything for their ever-demanding children, to mess with their self-esteem. Come on Mom and Dad, be nice … (the real) Santa remembers everything.
Anyhow, I hope to be back to my weekly missives soon … if the dust settles (we just had the hardwood floors sanded). May your holidays be peaceful and filled with friends and family. Jasper, Shauna, and I send you a collective hug from Toronto.
-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2006 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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