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“The True Meaning of Christmas”: poetry from Kevinsylvania
December 19th, 2006
Our terrible ordeal was over some time during the wee hours of Monday morning, when the power came back, the heater kicked in, and the tip of my nose, which was the only part of me outside the covers, began to tingle in its journey back from frostbite.
Overall, Kevin and I survived with everything but our Christmas spirit intact. I must confess our holiday cheer was eroded quite a bit once the novelty of living like they did in the olden days wore off (about 24 hours). By the end of it, we were even cursing the nice neighbors next door.
“Who’d you sleep with to get power, bastards!?” I muttered, glaring out of my dark window at their warm and glowing one as I warmed my hands over the open flame of my gas range. I turned to Kevin, “I’m going to go over there and warm my hands by the light of their anal-retentively straight Christmas lights.”
“Fuck that,” said Kevin. “I’m going to get an extension cord and plug it into their outdoor outlet.”
In the end, we didn’t try to shame the neighbors or steal their electricity. I resigned myself to pouting really hard and taking two-hour showers. But Kevin actually found it within himself to rise above the calamity, quietly penning his thoughts by the light of a candle.
“Can I read it?” I asked when he had finished.
“You can try,” he said.
I took up the manuscript and read aloud:
“‘T’was the week before Xmas
And the northwest was dark
Except for the Christmas trees
Down in the pack–’”
“The park.”
“Oops, sorry. ‘Down in the park.
All of the food in the freezer
Had gone to hell.’ You know, the meter on this poem doesn’t really wor–’”
“Do you want to read it or not?”
“Ok, sorry. ‘All of the food in the freezer
Had gone to hell,
We dared not to eat it
We were soaked—’”
“Scared!”
“‘–scared by the smell.
With we in our long-johns, coats and our caps
We tried to warm up for our lure—’”
“Little!”
“‘—little naps.
By candle, by dentist–’”
“By dentist?! That says ‘by Christ’!”
“‘—By candles, by Christ, we tried to make heat
But nothing was warm, not even our feet.
We were not alone,
Not by a long shot.
Seven hundred thousand
All pined for the hot.’”
I paused. “Pined for the hot?”
“Read it, woman.”
“‘We said ‘What the fuck!’
We started to drink.
In the dark, the cold and the stink.’”
[Aside: I think this is a reference to the garbage pail under the kitchen sink but I’m not sure. In any case, it had nothing to do with the power outage. - Editor]
“‘Sometimes we forget how spoiled we are
By heaters and movies and stupid, big cars.
But a handful of Harrys–’”
“Hours!!”
“‘—hours without all of our toys
Makes us very grateful for life’s bountiful joys.”
Just, er, warms your heart, now doesn’t it?
Technorati Tags: pacific northwest storm, Christmas cheer, amateur poetry, don’t quit your day job
Filed under Kevinsylvania |5 Responses to ““The True Meaning of Christmas”: poetry from Kevinsylvania”
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Congrats! You’re now my favorite blog (so long Heather… Dooce is sooo 2006!). Kevin is hilarious! I can just see this exchange happening…
Brilliant! I can see this conversation playing out….looks like you have a future as a comedic writer!!!
This is great! Glad you’re back with the power. You are my favorite blog too. It’s hard to find a blog where the poetry still rhymes.
That was very entertaining. I enjoyed imagining you trying to decipher his writing as you both are bundled up in layer upon layer of clothing - all round looking.
Hey guys, thanks for the encouraging words! You know what they say… “Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused.”