This blog is a poem – actually a weird adaptation of Clement Clarke Moore’s “Twas the night before Christmas…” for a very wonderful reason. Let me explain:

2020 has been the most awkward, unkind, devastating, demoralizing year for most of mankind because of the pandemic. This same year has also been one of neighborhood “urban renewal,” at least on our quiet little street with the exponential growth of the University at the end of the avenue. We have seen many of our neighbors’ homes gobbled up lately as part of an apparent eminent domain philosophy. As such we now have graduate and upper class university students living on either side of us and across the street. Several other homes around us are now university homes.

As we curse the gods, karma, and the current Rump administration for the black hole of yuck in which we are living, would this new “neighbor” situation drive us further to despair? Would we wake each night to “Animal House” parties; find kegs and cans all over our yard every Sunday morning like the weekly newspaper delivery? Would sorority row keep onslaughts of traffic coming and going? I mean, come on, they are like vampires, sleeping all day and prowling all night. Would we have to insulate our visiting grandkids from sights and sounds of college life surrounding our rest home of serenity?  

Well, it turned out that one of the most positive results of being quarantined for 800 weeks on a self-pity island surrounded by all hormonal twenty somethings is that the lifeline to sanity and normalcy was the trio of angels that moved in next door disguised as graduate business students. It was like we woke up one morning and our granddaughters had gone from preschool to grad school and moved in next door. Could not have had any better hopes for neighbors. So, in tribute to their kindness, their unbridled joy and friendship, we wrote them a little appreciative plagiarized Christmas poem before they went to their “other” homes for the holidays. (we are currently contacting all their advisors to make sure the girls fail all exams and have to stay another year 😉)

For the TEA girls of 236

Twas weeks before Christmas

And all thru the hood

Not a student was stirring

They’d gone home, as they could.

Our stockings were hung

From the chimney with care

In hopes that their presence

Would cure the Covid despair.

Grandchildren all quarantined

In their homes far away

With visions of visits

To Montlieu someday.

Peg in her T shirt

And me in my cap

Had just settled down

For an afternoon nap.

When out on the porch

There arose such a clatter

I sprang from my chair

To see what was the matter.

I sprang to the hallway

And rushed to the door

But I tripped on the rug

And nearly fell to the floor.

In a moment of panic

I yelled “what The Hell” …

In hopes that Peg

Would answer the bell.

When what to our wondering

Eyes should appear

But our three favorite neighbors

With gifts of good cheer.

With boxes and cards

All wrapped with a bow

A stocking stuffed full

Yet we had nothing to show.

They stood three together

Like angels in masks

And said Merry Christmas

While we stood both aghast.

More rapid than eagles

Their time was all spent

We talked all so fast

And wished more could be lent.

Now Taylor

Now Amelia, now Emily three

Off to their real homes

They would travel to be.

With beautiful smiles

And a wave of their wrists

They would all soon be gone

Our neighbors, our friends, our girls of 236.

But we heard them exclaim

Ere they drove out of sight

Merry Christmas to all

And to all a good night.

December 7, 2020