What If, On the Night Before Christmas


| 12/18/2009 12:32:14 PM


CindyMurphyBlog.jpgI should start this blog by saying I am not a poet. “Iambic” sounds to me like a declaration of one’s identity if one happens to be named “Bic,” instead of an adjective relating to, or consisting of iambs. What is an “iamb” anyway? The meter of the following poem is not my own, it’s a parody, though not a humorous parody. Never-the-less, it is a cheap imitation of another well-known and much-loved poem. And I could have titled it “Twas the Night of Bad Poetry,” but I didn’t. Sometimes something will come along, and you just have to go with wherever your mind takes you. This was one of those times.

Christmas when I was growing up was magical. My parents, following an old European custom that has origins long since forgotten, went all out on Christmas Eve. Santa brought everything! He brought not only gifts and filled stockings, but he also brought the entire tree, fully decorated, for us to wake up to Christmas morning. Sometimes we’d even hear sleigh bells ring up on the rooftop at night and his heavy footsteps as he clomped around, making his way to the chimney. Years later, I discovered this wasn’t just an imagination working overtime in my excitement, but my Dad had actually got up in the attic, ringing bells and making sure he stomped loud enough for us to hear. I can’t imagine the work they packed into one night just for us kids to have a few moments of magic; magic would last a lifetime, long after the gifts were forgotten, as my brothers and I both remember with fondness days of Christmases past. If there was ever a Christmas that the gifts under the tree seemed scarcer than other Christmases (and I’m sure there were), my brothers and I never noticed.

Fast forward from my childhood to this Christmas season. I stressed as to how I would find the time to get my Christmas shopping done. I fretted that because money was tight this year, Christmas might seem slimmer than in years past; I worried that my daughters might be disappointed. Had my parents ever wondered and worried the same? It didn’t matter to us kids; all we experienced was magic. Would it matter to my kids? Should it matter to me? Something I read blew me away, and I started to wonder ... what if?

What If, On the Night Before Christmas

’Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the street,
The family huddled together, praying for heat.
The shelter was full, “There’s no room at the Inn.”
How did this happen, where’d it begin?

The children were nestled, with cardboard for beds.
With out-grown shoes on their feet, and no hats on their heads.
I look at them now, with pain in my heart.
Again I ask, “How did this happen, how did it start?”



I look at my wife; she deserves so much more.
I never meant for us to end up homeless and poor.
She works two jobs now; she’s always tired and beat.
But on minimum wage, it seems ends never meet.

Cindy Murphy
12/20/2009 6:11:16 AM

These are puzzling times, Dave - it's those family traditions like your family's puzzle that make Christmas so memorable. It'd be a neat tradition to start with your grandson, if you haven't already. Your "Brrr cold" Nebraska comment is funny to me; that's the exact way I always describe the weather here - it's brrr-cold outside, as if it's one word. So, Merry Christmas from brrrr-cold Michigan to you too.


Nebraska Dave
12/19/2009 7:49:53 PM

Cindy, very cool poem. It is so meaningful. How often do we pass by the homeless with never a thought about what it would be like to not have a home, a warm bed to sleep in, or food on the table at meal time. It is sad that now we are seeing the increase in whole families that are homeless. Like Brenda said, “This is the richest nation in the world, what’s up with so many homeless.” As I look back into the growing up years there are only a few presents that I still remember getting for Christmas. Our tradition was always to put up the tree on Christmas Eve. I expect now that it was because the trees were greatly discounted on Christmas Eve. Some of the best memories of Christmas were the family and friends getting together for Christmas dinners, playing with cousins not seen for an entire year, board games, and puzzles. Every Christmas we put together a family puzzle. Merry Christmas from Brrrr cold Nebraska.


Cindy Murphy
12/19/2009 7:17:26 PM

Merry Christmas to you and yours, Vickie, and all the best in the upcoming year.






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