Merry Christmas!
December 21, 2008

And “Happy Chanukah” and “Happy Kwanzaa” to all of BiblioBuffet’s readers. As we head into  the final week before Christmas I want to take this time to wish you a fine holiday. Whatever else you have planned, and regardless of whether you are looking forward to it or dreading it, keep on reading. Have a book (or two) with you at all times because you already know the pleasure you get from sinking into a good story. It will be especially important if you know that part of the holiday celebration invariably includes less-than-desirable aspects but it can also be a calm place to retreat any time the festivities begin to feel overwhelming. I suggest keeping a couple of books in your car and another one in your purse or bag. Staying centered and grounded in things that matter to you is one sure way to eliminate or at least ease the stresses that can come at this time.

One quick way to give yourself something good—and to do good—is to take a moment to help put a new book into the hands of a child whose family cannot afford one. First Books , a nonprofit organization that provides children from low-income families with their own their first new books through community-based programs serving children in need has received from Disney the offer of up to 250,000 new books. For every comment about your favorite bedtime story or memory posted on their blog, Bookmark, Disney will donate one book to a child in the poster’s honor. There could be nothing easier and certainly nothing better. Please take the time to do this. And be sure to pass along this request to friends, family, and colleagues. The offer ends on December 25.

And now,  with an apology to Clement Clarke Moore, I offer my  annual  Christmas poem—’Twas That Night Before Christmas—an admitted rip-off of the favorite children’s holiday verse. Let me say, first of all, that I am not a poet. I am not even a pretend poet. I simply took this well-known piece and played with it to make something that will hopefully bring a smile to your face this week.

’Twas that night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a kitty was stirring, not even for her toy mouse;
The stockings were hung on the bookcase with care,
With hopes that Santa soon would be there.

The cats were nestled all snug on my bed
While visions of catnip danced in their heads;
And I in my nightshirt, book on my lap
Had just settled in for the eve’s warm nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I looked up from my book to see what was the matter.
Pencil and teacup, glasses put asunder,
I tore open the shutters, my eyes a’wonder.

The moon on the breast of my California lawn
Gave my room the appearance of a brilliant dawn,
Then suddenly before me I saw the outline
Of a miniature sleigh drawn by
Eight tiny mice, all lookin’ fat ’n fine.

Amara, Athena, Aphrodite all shivered,
This was a dream which made them quiver.
Eight mice in all lashed one to another,
Two each for them and a few left over,
Plus the man in the sleigh meant something for mother.

“Now, Dasher,” he cried, “now, Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

“But where are they going?” cried the cats with a sob,
“It’s the eve before Christmas, and our socks have been robbed,
There are no other toys so precious as those
Mice, fat and juicy and ready to eat.
Furry and deelish and full of good meat. 

It was then that we heard up above our heads,
The mice and the man preparing to land; 
Back in the house, the prancing and scratching of each little paw
Told me the cats hoped what was coming was indeed what they saw.

But were they prepared for the sight that night
Of a man down the chimney, dressed all in fur?
Tarnished with ashes, it is said to be true;
But with a bundle of toys for the cats who rule.

He wasn’t George Clooney, but he was a sweet man
Who had eyes that twinkled and a California tan.
His laughter was engaging, his greeting merry
Oh, how the cats watched him carefully, very.
Fortunately, the pipe was no longer a part
Of Santa’s persona, which I found smart.
From behind the door, the cats and I stared
At the man in red  who our chimney would dare.  

He now reached in his bag and brought forth a box
He was engaged in his work, filling the socks.
And Amara, Athena, Aphrodite, I saw
Each got three boxes of toys for their paws.

He turned when done though he spoke not a word,
But winked at the cats. And into his bag
He reached once again and brought out the books:
Science and travel, literature and fun, art is good.

He looked at the bookshelves and I could hear him think,
Why would she ask for books when so many are here?
The piles, the stacks, the shelves packed so full,
Are more really needed, why doesn’t she just cull?

But he smiled. He knew a booklover always wants more,
Books that are hers to read all the year through.
So he dug deeper and found the old one she wanted
Plus all the new ones that would not leave her daunted.

Done he sprang to his sleigh waiting on the roof,
And away they all flew in a lightning poof.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight.
“Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanzaa to all,
And to all a good-night!”