« Damon, you broke my boy's heart | Main | Festivus is real? »

December 23, 2005

Merry Christmas, y'all

I'm still in town but I don't know how much time I'll have for posting until next week, so everybody have a Merry Christmas or whatever else it is you celebrate.

Don't forget that you can still pre-order Do You Know What It Means until January 6, and all pre-order profits will go to Katrina relief.

Don't take your tree down til January 6th. Then put up your Mardi Gras decorations. Tis the season and all.

Finally, I leave you with a new Night Before Christmas, Post-K style, swiped from the legendary Gulfsails blog, who got it from who-knows-where. What it lacks in meter it makes up for in pure heart. Thank you, Unknown Author.

Update: The author is Stephany Lyman of UNO. Thanks Stephany!

Have a merry one, y'all.

'Twas the night before Christmas and in the Faubourg At the edge of the crescent, no creature stirred.

Under the shroud-like blue plastic from FEMA
That flapped in the wind in the wake of Katrina,

Nothing was hung by the chimneys with care
Since chimneys and roofs were no longer there.

The houses, abandoned for trailers or Texas,
Were circled with watermarks, branded with Xs,

And in them no sugarplums danced in kids' heads,
For no little children slept snug in their beds

On this night before Christmas in Faubourg-St John
Where time had stopped dead, while the world carried on.

Then, lo, from the depths of what once was my garden
(Now a wild cesspool of strange hydrocarbons)

Up drift some voices from out of the dark
To compete with the flapping of my FEMA tarp:

"They all axed for you, dawlin'. How did you do?"
"-Nine feet of water, and how about you?"

"Do ya know what it means to miss New Orleans?"
"-Not enough ersters-or rice and red beans!"

I'm certain of whom this can't possibly be:
It's not the adjuster; it's not Entergy;

With looters gone elsewhere, this can't be a stick-up;
And who can remember the last garbage pick-up?

It's surely not someone from Capitol Hill
To tell me, at last, whether I can rebuild.

I lift back what's left of my old cypress shutters
And peek past the tangle of phone lines and gutters,

And what to my wondering eyes should appear?
Not Santa Claus and his team of reindeer

But, costumed in rubber attire and gas masks,
A long second-line, waving hankies and flasks.

Rather than coconuts, beads and doubloons,
This krewe carries gear (and, just barely, a tune).

With wet vacs and power tools, sheetrock and nails,
Brawny and Brillo piled high in their pails,

They're Superdome faithful, survivors of attics,
Mardi Gras maniacs, Jazz Fest fanatics,

Carnival trackers (from Allah to Zeus),
Believers in Saints (whether St. Jude or Deuce),

Joined by a couple of Dutch engineers,
Some out-of-town builders and church volunteers.

They pause at the dead Live Oak next to my door
In T-shirts declaring Make Levees Not War.

Since ditching my mold-ridden fridge at the curb,
MREs have become the hors d'oeuvres that I serve

So I pass them around with Abita's new ale
When a wrench taps, "Clink! Clink!" on the side of a pail:

"To Blanco," they cry, "She got contra-flow down!
To Nagin-he sure told those Feds and Mike Brown!

To NOLA dot com, CNN, and the Times
Who cut to the quick of the Superdome crime!

To all those who took in our downtrodden folks,
Or ferried them out in their flat-bottom boats!

To Tennessee... Texas... Jackson... Atlanta...
Our Baton Rouge brothers ... and Lou-i-si-ana!"

I notice no Rudy steps up as their leader,
Yet something unseen guides this flock of believers,

A force that transcends rich or poor, black or white,
A light that can steer this brigade through the night.

In a twinkle they've finished the last of the ale
And they hoist their equipment, their masks and their pails:

"On, Comet! On, Borax! On, on Spic 'n Span!
"Come (Yule) Tide and Cheer! Come, All, let us plan!

Up, Mildew! Off, Mold! Out, out, Toxic Waste!
Come, Shout! Away, Wisk! Come, let us make haste!

To the top of the water mark! Up, past the stair!
Let the City that Care Forgot know that we care!"

Then to Lakeview, Gentilly, Chalmette and the East,
Away they all marched to a Zydeco beat.

Ere they rose past the tarps, I heard a voice say
"Merry Christmas-and Laissez les bon temps rouler!"

Posted by ray at December 23, 2005 11:40 AM |
Categories: [ | | | | | ]

Comments

Merry Christmas, my brutha. Enjoy.

Posted by: Karl Elvis at December 23, 2005 4:17 PM

Merry Christmas, Ray.

Posted by: Whirly at December 23, 2005 5:39 PM

Merry Christmas, darlin'.

Posted by: Mare at December 24, 2005 3:42 PM

I've been computerless for quite a few days (spending time up north with the fam), so please accept a rather belated Merry Christmas, dear Ray. I hope it was an excellent one.

Posted by: Carol Elaine at December 28, 2005 12:46 AM

(Gosh, I think the meter's pretty good!)
I came across this posting and am writing to identify myself as the writer of "Ahoy to the World," this year's Faubourg-St John holiday poem. (I write one annually, though usually more political and less bipartisan than this year's).
With mail unreliable here in New Orleans, I sent this year's poem electronaically to a few dozen friends. I'm delighted, and honored, that it has made its way to you.

Happy New Year--and laissez les bon temps rouler!

Stephany Lyman slyman@uno.edu

Posted by: Stephany Lyman at January 2, 2006 7:13 AM

(Gosh, I think the meter's pretty good!)
I came across this posting and am writing to identify myself as the writer of "Ahoy to the World," this year's Faubourg-St John holiday poem. (I write one annually, though usually more political and less bipartisan than this year's).
With mail unreliable here in New Orleans, I sent this year's poem electronaically to a few dozen friends. I'm delighted, and honored, that it has made its way to you.

Happy New Year--and laissez les bon temps rouler!

Stephany Lyman slyman@uno.edu

Posted by: Stephany Lyman at January 2, 2006 7:41 AM

Post a comment




Remember Me?

(you may use HTML tags for style)