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Santa Claus circa 2011, a tragedy in rhyming couplets

Updated on January 6, 2012

Welcome to my Christmas hub for 2011. My gift this year is this humble ballad, the story of Santa Claus in these trying times. I hope you enjoy. May you have a wonderful holiday season and a prosperous and happy new year. -- Lynda

Santa Circa 2011 -- Or how times got tough at the North Pole


The dapper man stretched out his wrist, peeked at his Rolex, sighed and leaned back in his leather chair,

Played with his tailored lapels, rubbed his chin, picked his ear, ran his fingers through his gel-spiked hair,

Rolled his eyes to the heavens and back, cleared his throat with a loud “ahem,” moved his lips and spoke.

“Mr. Claus, I don’t know how we can assist. Change career now? This must be some kind of joke.

Rather late in the game, don’t you think? You did state your age at eight hundred and sixty three!

We at Executive Assist can only do so much, you know. I think you must agree

Your advanced years; you’ve attended no school and your resume – I’d have to term it unique.

I would be derelict in my duty if I did not advise you your prospects are quite bleak.

Good day, Mr. Claus.” He nodded toward the door and his polished fingers flipped closed the file.

For the first time he looked the other in the eye and the two sat quiet for a while.


The bearded, haggard man, Santa Claus by name, sat stunned and still, both eyes rapidly blinking.

He breathed in gasps. His face drained white. He clutched his chest and shouted, “No, sir! What are you thinking?

This Christmas thing just can’t go on!” He jumped to his feet and shouted, “High time it ended!

I can’t go on like this. I’m oh, so tired. I’m broke and seriously over-extended.”

Like a balloon with a leak he lost his air, sat down and bowed his head. “I know how this sounds.

I need a job, Mr. Rich, a real job. My pockets are empty. I’ve lost ninety-three pounds!”

He pulled out his waistband one full foot and patted the drooping flesh inside. “Do you see?”

But, Mr. Rich just sat still with an index finger on the button marked “Security.”

“Don’t,” pleaded Claus, collecting his wits and tucking in his shirt. “I’m not deranged.

Don’t you see? It’s not Christmas to blame.” He groaned and swiped at a tear. “It’s the world that has changed.”


“What I see,” said Rich “is this venture worked for centuries and you ran it into the ground.

In three decades, you’ve gone deep into debt. What did you think, that you’d magically rebound?

You borrowed and borrowed without a single thought as to how it would ever be repaid.

Your expenses grew astronomically. Projected income growth was – shall we say delayed?

Your balance sheet is lopsided, all liabilities. Assets? Pray tell, where did they go?

Your business was Christmas, after all. How could you lose? Don’t tell me business was slow.

It’s clear that as a manager, you suck. So, how dare you grovel now, whine, wail and lament,

To say you’re tired, broke and unfed, to throw yourself on my mercy and beg for employment?”

“Please,” whispered Claus, plucking at Mr. Rich’s Armani sleeve. “You must listen. Give me a chance.

There are mitigating factors at play in my plight. I’m but a victim of circumstance.”


“A victim?” sneered Rich. “What are you a man or a worm? Real men are in control of their lives.

Or are you looking for a welfare handout like the rest of the so-called ‘poor and deprived?’”

“I came looking for work,” Claus replied heatedly, getting his dander up. “Not charity.”

“All right,” said Rich. “I’ll hear your tale.” He checked his watch, once again. “I’ll give you to half-past three.”

Santa stroked his neat, newly-trimmed beard, wondering where to begin. “There was a time, long ago

When most people were grateful for the simplest of things, when the children ask me to bestow

A doll, mittens or warm socks, a ball, pencil and paper, a toy train, skates, a spinning top

And each child asked for only one thing. Back then, everything was made by elves in my shop

All to be hand-delivered by me. You know the story, the sleigh, the twelve flying reindeer…

And the folks, poor but generous left us food and we gathered enough to feed us a year.”


“Yes, yes,” interrupted Rich. “They were simpler times, better times. Yada-yada-yada. So?”

“My point being,” Claus said. “It was a trade: food for elf-made goods and a jolly ho-ho-ho.

It was a simple operation with Mrs. Claus and me and a hundred twenty elves.

Who needed capital? Not us.” He smiled a wistful smile. “We were happy then, just ourselves.

As the world grew, so did we. More elves and -- though I hate to admit it -- I hired a double

To help with the distribution and another and another… still, we had no trouble.

Not until the sixties, when the lists of wants and wishes started getting right out of hand,

Each child wanting more and more, exotic things, patented things, things from beyond our North Pole land:

Chatty Cathy dolls, Barbie and her house and car, those Beatle records, Hot Wheels and GI Joes,

And Scrabble games – they’re copyrighted – eight track players and hi-fi sets. You think elves make those?”


“We contracted the designs, bought manufacturing rights, paid royalties and franchise fees,

Production reports audited by CPAs -- do you know what they charge? And attorneys --

Oh, the damn attorneys wouldn’t let me sign a thing without a comprehensive review.

The bills poured in. I mortgaged the shop with a banker’s help, at interest of 6 point 2.

Then one enterprising fellow from Japan -- Yoshi was his name -- said, ‘This is ludicrous!

By the time we train all your elves, re-tool your machines -- such a cost! -- and add in all the rest,

It’s more cost-effective if we make the goods because our workers are remarkably cheap!

With their pension funds, medical plans and union scale, your elf labor costs are too steep.

I assigned half the elves to maintenance and contracted with Kugumori in '79.

Mr. Rich, you understand I did what I had to do for the good of the bottom line.


“As the years went by my problems grew. My elves continued to make those old-style toys,

Tin drums and xylophones; baby dolls and blocks; wooden soldiers with tiny guns, once loved by boys.

The elves built them well which is more than I can say for the factory-made toys from abroad

But no one wanted those things anymore. They wanted the other, no matter how slipshod.

If baby grew ill from a bad paint job, if Bobby ate a piece, if the talking doll for Sue

Stopped talking the first day or Jack sliced his thumb on his fire truck, who did they blame? Me, that's who.

Not the factories. Oh, no. And I faced suit after suit, court costs and plaintiff's legal fees,

So I had to borrow again for the benefit payments owed my idle employees.

Things got so tight I had no choice and listened to the proposition that came from Shanghai

Who said, “We can do it much cheaper for you. Check around; ours is the lowest price.’


“And things got worse. How would you like to see a typical wish list from 2003?

‘Dear Santa, I want a three dimension, high density, fifty-two inch, wide-screen TV,

A new iPod, an Apple tablet with lots of apps, a Blackberry and a brand new Wii

With the virtual mall and a dance routine, and -- I almost forgot -- another Barbie.’

Multiply this by six billion or so; ergo my need for two trillion on loan.

On top of this, my poor faithful elves, with no work and no paychecks started losing their homes.

Stuck in the shelter with nothing to do, they began drinking beer and smoking crystal meth.

I’m ashamed to tell you, one or two of the eldest gave up completely and starved to death.

Now I ask you, what kind of man would I be, if I did nothing for them and let them die?

So, I asked Beijing to loan me a further six billion at a rate of three point five.


“I started a stimulus plan to help my elves: rescue rafts for drowning polar bears.

For great changes had come to our North Pole home where once we had lived free in the frigid air.

Our winter mornings, once so cold, crisp and clear had turned warm and humid and downright foggy

And our buildings sank right up to the windows as the permafrost melted -- soft and soggy.

I wrote to Washington and asked, ‘Can you help us, please? Send in your engineers, that Army Corp.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ they replied. ‘There’s no such thing as climate change. Fool! Don’t listen to Al Gore.’

So I spoke to him, this man Gore, explaining our dire plight, but all he said was ‘I told you so.’

I went to the UN, pleading for help. They're still talking about it as far as I know.

I reminded Canada we were in their domain. The Prime Minister said, ‘What bad luck!’

After two years’ study, they recommended we move to a building in Tuktoyuktuk.


We packed it all up, elves, shop, reindeer and all, at a cost of five million, maybe more,

But my wife said, ’Enough! I want a divorce and enough money to move to Ecuador.’

That was the year one of my Santa doubles took a short cut over Afghanistan

And a flying drone patrolling there sent a report: ‘Intruder possible Taliban.’

They fired a missile and shot him down, sleigh, reindeer and all landing in a big blazing pyre.

Later, I received a telegram: ‘Sorry. Collateral damage caught in friendly fire.”

All the other Santa doubles quit. Under the circumstances, that was no big surprise.

To make matters worse, all the reindeer came down with mad cow and had to be euthanized,

So I asked for bids on delivery fulfillment and subcontracted with UPS.

But that ate up my margin and I had to take yet another loan at high interest.


“Then one fine day those men from Beijing came to call, carrying a large computer report.

They said, ‘Santa, we’re concerned with this debt. It just gets worse and worse,’ and I had no retort.

‘We think,’ they said, most politely, ‘you should make changes here, embark on an austerity plan.

We must insist. Your luxurious life and prolific spending is bringing down our yuan.

Look at these lazy elves. Their welfare payments are three times what we pay our hardest workers.

Why should we continue to foot the bill to support all these useless, pointy-eared shirkers?’

I looked around that dreary warehouse, Mr. Rich, and the strangest thoughts came into my head,

My dead reindeer, my departed wife, and my poor elves sound asleep upstairs, ten to a bed,

How tired and beaten I felt, of the strife and the struggles, all that money spent and for what?

Were we better off than we used to be? Were we happy like this? Most certainly we’re not.


“I looked those industrialists in the eye, swore to myself and said, ‘What a load of crap!

You must think me a fool of the worst kind, and I played the part when I stepped into your trap.

But now I see clearly, and I tell you this, it’s over. I’m done. I have naught left to lose.

Who has gained from this scheme? Me? My elves? Your slave workers? Hell, no! We’ve all been royally screwed.

Are the world’s kids happier? Did we bring them joy? No, only the gifts of avarice and greed.

Sirs, I see it is yourselves who have amassed all the wealth from this Christmas insanity.

Whatever I owe you is a spit in the sea compared to the sales you have made through me,

So, let us call it square. Christmas is yours. Here is the signed deed. Take it and let me go free.’

They were shocked and surprised, speechless at first, then one said, ‘We’ll restructure the loans that are due,

But, this venture is worthless without your trademark. Think, Santa; Christmas is all about you.’


“Did you quit?” Rich asked in an impatient tone, “even though they offered a generous fix?”

“I did,” said his guest. “Earned enough cash to settle my elves by selling the rights to my face.

I bought them a spread in central BC, and they founded an organic communal farm.

It was the least I could do considering… Well, I never intended to do them harm.”

His voice dwindled off and his face sagged in pain as he remembered the elves’ miserable past,

But he recovered himself and straightened up. “Mr. Rich, there’s a question you haven’t asked.”

Rich ostentatiously checked his Rolex and shifted in his chair. “It’s now fifteen to four.

I’ve given a quarter hour more time than I promised. I don’t think I can give you much more,

But if you can make it quick, I’ll give it some thought. What is this query I missed?” he replied.

Santa leaned forward, hard purpose in his eye. “You asked what I did, but you forgot to ask why.”


“Perhaps, I don’t care.” Rich played with his tie. “You’re a loser, Santa. That’s clear from your tale of woe.

Incompetent to say the least. You had it all and you lost it. That’s all I need to know.

But if it will get you out of here and on your way, I’ll ask. Enlighten me. Tell me why.”

“They were wrong when they said Christmas was all about me. The whole venture was based on a lie.”

Santa hit the desk with his fist and yelled, “Has the world forgotten how Christmas was begun

With a promise of peace on earth, good will to man, and saving grace with the birth of the One?”

“Oh, that,” sneered Rich, “maybe good on a greeting card, but what does it do for the GNP?

Listen old man, today it’s commerce makes the world go round and nothing in life is free.

Good will to man? Puh-lease. Just give him a credit card. He’ll run it up at Christmas and then,

You’ve got him. He’s your slave. You old fool, that was really the whole point of the Christmas game.”


“Fool? Yes, but not so blind as you. I can’t decide if you’re a devil or merely a stooge.

You remind me of an old friend of mine - maybe you’ve heard of him, went by the name of Scrooge.”

Santa rose, gathering the last of his pride. “You want me gone and I’m happy to oblige.

It’s clear you can’t help me and I must be on my way. Please direct me to the nearest bridge?

I’ve not eaten in three weeks and I owe a lot of cash – two trillion to be precise.

As you say I’ve no chance of work, I see bankruptcy and suicide as my only choice.

Good by, Mr. Rich and thank you for your time. I sincerely hope one day you’ll see the light."

He walked to the door on trembling legs and turned to say”Merry Christmas all the same. Good night.”

Rich turned to his computer screen and checked the market’s close. His stocks were up. He murmured, “Sweet.”

Filled with thoughts of his mother’s turkey dinner tomorrow, he went down and into the street.


Today Christmas is in the hands of a giant conglomerate, thanks to bail out funds from TARP.

The CEO, Mr. Huang Lee, a Wharton MBA has executive skills honed sharp.

He put the deal into turnaround with an experienced team, took an office in Shanghai,

And was pleased to report that by his second year, S & P rated Christmas very high.

Mr. Rich did not fare so well, killed by a speeding cab and a driver from Pakistan.

He went to Hell, but he’s all right, accepting his well-earned fate and doing the best he can.

He sits on a long bench with a bunch of good-old-boy pals who used to work at Goldman Sachs

And they love to swap stories about the Wall Street days while waiting their turn upon the racks.

Rich tells them all about that day when poor Mr. Santa Claus came to him begging for work.

They laugh -- a rare sound down there -- punch each others shoulders and agree. “What a stupid old jerk!”


As for Santa Claus, true to his word, he went looking for that bridge with full intent of death.

As he was about to jump he turned his face skyward to say “I’m sorry” with his last breath.

“For what?” said a voice so strong, so sweet, so kind, so full of love, it could only be the One.

Santa jumped back, peered left and right, saw no one there but answered all the same. “For what I’ve done.”

“What was that?” asked the One in such a tone of compassion that poor Santa hung his head.

“I stole your day. I don’t know how, but I did. Trees, red suits, greed, gluttony, debt – pah!,” he said.

“You didn’t do that,” the One replied. “Those damn money changers did, using your name for gold.

It hurts when the good you meant for the world is used for wicked things – believe me, I should know.

You wanted to bring joy to the world; so did I. You are good. I can see into your heart.

Go forth and tell them what you’ve learned.” The One sighed. “It will be hard. They are not very smart.”


Santa applied for and received a government loan, went to school -- chose the seminary.

And now he preaches the truth at the First Baptist Church in the center of Tallahassee.

He’s still poor, ‘tis true, but not destitute. Those student loans are a heavy burden, you see.

He figures the debt (including interest) will be cleared by the start of next century.

Happy, healthy, fit and trim after five years at Weight Watchers, his new life is austere.

He’s a vegan these days. He can’t abide the thought of meat remembering those sick reindeer.

He teaches his flock to live for the spirit, to share and eschew this cult of acquisition

Fox News calls him “far left” and a communist; they said he should come under inquisition.

Bill O’Reilly offered to do just that, asked Kris Klaus (the name he now uses) to debate

But was taken aback when Klaus said, "Bill, don't be their pawn. See the light before it's too late.”

December 5, 2011 -- Lynda M Martin


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    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Thank you Debby. So glad you enjoyed my little tragedy. About the kudos; it came as both a shock and surprise to me to receive a few emails berating me for introducing a political agenda into the holidays (putting it far more politely than they did.) Strangely enough, I am not a political person, far more involved with common sense than I am ideology. This was meant to amuse, only. Sad that our HubPages community has sunk into the schism of left vs right that plagues this country to the point where we cannot recognize satire when we find it. Perhaps it will be received in a better light next year (as my previous two Christmas gifts saw more views this year than any other.) Thanks so much for lifting my spirits. Lynda

    • Debby Bruck profile image

      Debby Bruck 

      7 years ago

      Dear Lynda, This one is a 'share' just the way CapricornRising has brought me here. How ever did you manage to write this brilliant piece of literature. I agree with Cat that you hit all the marks, nothing left unturned about our crazy, out-of-control society, financial status, economic politics and such.

      I heartily laughed out loud, ". . . they began drinking beer and smoking crystal meth." after reading this, as we know satirists use exaggeration as the key to humor. Unfortunate and sadly, too many young people stoop so low that these addictions have hit a danger zone.

      Well, press on and we light a lamp for reinventing ourselves, as poor old Santa went back to school to learn a new trade and find a new flock. I hope his new facility has solar power and other energy efficient devices.

      One other thing. I was surprised that this hub did not have many more kudos and expect it to rise over the years, especially in the winter season. Voting up!



    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Hi DAve, Somehow you sneaked a comment in there that got past me until now. Thank you (imagine a curtsy here.)Lynda

      Nice to see you Shadesbreath. I doubt any of us read anything and share all the views expressed therein. This was my tongue-in-cheek salute to the world, and I'm not even sure I share all these views. Some of them, to be sure. It was meant to be humorous. Still, all kudos gratefully accept. Lynda

    • Shadesbreath profile image


      7 years ago from California

      What a fantastic work. It doesn't even matter that I don't share all the views in it precisely, the point is well made, and beautifully delivered. Kudos to you and kudos to Capricornrising for directing me to it. This really is a fabulous piece. One does not have to share every political point or spiritual system to see the over-riding truth of it or appreciate the fine craftsmanship that constructed it. Huzzah, Immartin, seriously!

    • profile image

      Dave Bottoms 

      7 years ago

      Brava indeed!!!

      Now THIS was a piece of work--clever, and broad in its sweep!! You nailed the nay-sayers and bean counters perfectly, and then shepherded old Kringle to a new beginning!


    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Thank you Docmo, my old friend. I should have known you would see the real message... Merry Christmas and all the best for the New Year. Lynda

    • Docmo profile image

      Mohan Kumar 

      7 years ago from UK

      Clever, relevant and brilliantly written. Its a great satirical commentary on the world we live in where in the name of 'rationalization' and 'efficiency gains' the true transactions that make us human and humane are ignored. Wonderful seasonal reminder to rediscover the spirit of Christmas ( and I don't just mean mulled wine!) Voted up!

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      And a Merry Christmas back to you, Duchess. Glad you enjoyed my poem. Looking forward to reading more of your work come the New Year. Thanks for taking the time to leave a comment. I love comments and consider them a gift. Lynda

    • profile image

      Duchess OBlunt 

      7 years ago

      As always Lynda, brilliant, and I enjoyed the satire. What a treat to read a well written, well thought out prose. I smiled and nodded the whole way through thinking "how true"

      I received your email when I was extremely busy, but looked forward to reading this. Because of your last two Christmas gifts to us all, I expected brilliance - and again you delivered.

      Merry Christmas to you and yours. May you enjoy new hope along with good health this year.

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      What a coincidence! Me too. Domestic skivvy day -- house cleaning and laundry. (Pah!) But seeing as the dog hair and dust is up around my ankles, I think it's time.

    • capricornrising profile image


      7 years ago from Wilmington, NC

      NOTHING?! (Closing my laptop and settling on spending the day cleaning...) :-)

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Oh please, capricornrising, do write more hubs. I enjoy your wit very much. And much as I enjoy such great compliments, I am honor bound to be humble and say, it was nothing. Thanks very much. Best of the season to you. Lynda

    • capricornrising profile image


      7 years ago from Wilmington, NC

      Holy canoli. Not one area of society escaped your brilliant pen (word processor). It's biting, enlightening, perfect, (and now I'm too humbled by your genius to write anything for a few days...)!

    • Beata Stasak profile image

      Beata Stasak 

      7 years ago from Western Australia

      Thank you, my dear friend....just like always, your encouragement and praise is more than I deserve...hope this festive season will fulfill all your wishes, also those no one knows about:)

      Love from Beata

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      THank you so much Beata. Your words in this comment deserved to be enshrined for all see:

      "If each of us would give and receive the gifts of hope, of love and of encouragement instead of commercially designed, made and wrapped Christmas presents...just for us...ever hungry for shopping consumers, the world would be a better place for that, more lovelable and certainly less polluted.." -- How wonderfully put!

      A special Christmas wish for joy, peace and good health enroute to you down there in Australia. Lynda

    • Beata Stasak profile image

      Beata Stasak 

      7 years ago from Western Australia

      Cleverly written, profound and enjoyable as well...the best gift I could receive from my special friend, my first Hubfriend who encouraged me to keep have already given me a special gift. If each of us would give and receive the gifts of hope, of love and of encouragement instead of commercially designed, made and wrapped Christmas presents...just for us...ever hungry for shopping consumers, the world would be a better place for that, more lovelable and certainly less polluted....have a safe and beautiful festive season, my dear Lynda:)

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Thank you itakins and what a true joy to hear from you again. Are you ever returning to us on Hubpages? We miss you. And thanks so much for your kind words. May your Christmas be all you could ask. Lynda

    • itakins profile image


      7 years ago from Irl

      Ah ,Poor Santa ...just a weak gullible old man like the rest of us:)

      Lynda -What a brilliantly written caricature illustrating human weaknesses;a skill I believe that highlights a true comedic genius-(in my humble opinion).

      Thank you .I wish you and yours a very Happy and Peaceful Christmas -God Bless -Ita

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Hi Tammy, thanks for the wake up call. Let those who see politics in everything do as they wish. My problem was with a friend who I thought knew me better. Hope you enjoyed the piece a tenth as much as I enjoyed writing it. Part of the pleasure was the discipline laid down by the structure -- rhyming couplets with 22 beats per line. Which brings me back to a hub I recently finished on bringing back discipline and craft to writing.

      All the best to you and yours over there in Mississippi. May your holidays be the best.

      Hi Hello, hello. Thanks so much for your kind words. A lovely Christmas to you as well and a good New Year. Friends always, Lynda.

    • Hello, hello, profile image

      Hello, hello, 

      7 years ago from London, UK

      Hello, Lynda, that was fantastic. A real masterpiece and I mean it. You really outshone even yourself.

      Have a lovely Christmas and wishing you great success in the New Year which you deserve. All the very best to you your friend Hanna

    • profile image

      Tammy Lochmann 

      7 years ago

      I think your satire is brilliant. I may not be as gifted and experienced a writer as you obviously are but I love literature and I know a good writer when I see one. The problem with writing on HP which I am sure you are aware of is there are a ton of people who have opinions. One of which is you so you know better than to get your feelings hurt by HP denizens. Unfortunately people are not emotionally intelligent enough to see that a fictional story is just a story, not someone's opinion or truth. So stretch out your fingers and type out a brilliant retort, mkay.

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Got it. Got it the first time round. Just wanted to make sure, after a few flaming emails about this hub, that you got my message, too. And I agree with you on the Santa Claus conundrun for poor parents. Thanks for the clarification, all the same. Merry Christmas, Flora.

    • FloraBreenRobison profile image


      7 years ago

      I was talking about children's view of Santa Claus and his book of children who are naughty and nice. That's where the song lyric comes from "Here Comes Santa Claus." It's not until they discover that their parents are Santa Claus that this was why they never got presents. I know this was Satire. And it's very good. I just shared my own thoughts of the figure of Santa Claus, a man based partially on a rich man named Nicholas who used to leave boxes of goods on the doorstep of strangers year round.

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Hey Ronnie, It's not that I don't watch or appreciate parts of O'Reilly. He just gets a little too big for his britches sometimes. The truth is, this was meant to be humor, you know satire. Poke fun at the world -- better than fretting over it? Thanks.

      Hi FloraBreenRobinson -- but when did Christmas get to be about the toys? I read an article about a poll that was taken about how people view Christmas. Over 60% found Christmas depressing because they worried about going into debt. That's one of the things that sparked this silly ballad. That and the desire to elicit a chuckle or two.

      Best wishes for the season to all of you, Lynda

    • FloraBreenRobison profile image


      7 years ago

      The world as it is now can be depressing. Whenever I hear about the commercialization of Christmas I am reminded of the song lyric "He doesn't care if you're rich or poor for he loves you just the same." I have hated that song ever since I discovered the truth as of course, this is not true. No wonder poor children are confused when they do not get a bunch of toys while others do. They must think somehow that they have been bad this year. Meanwhile I know a lot of spoiled rich kids who are very rude children...

    • resspenser profile image

      Ronnie Sowell 

      7 years ago from South Carolina


      People seem too quick to get their panties in a wad! I enjoy O'Reilley and just because you don't is no reason to chastise or fuss. I agree that at this time of year we should all try to be a little more understanding. "Walk a mile in my shoes," wasn't that the line from that old song....

      It was a great hub, don't sweat th small minds!

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Thanks Ronnie. Your comment came at a fortuitous time. I needed a boost. I just got an emailed comment from a nameless someone, chastising me for writing a political message at a time of year when such should be forgotten. I was hurt. I thought this to be a tongue-in-cheek look at our world, and how we've forgotten what Christmas was all about -- a spiritual message not a political one. What has happened to our collective sense of humor? And is not the Christmas season the time to reflect on the trials of others?

      Then your comment showed me that my message has been understood and received. Thank you.

      PS -- I'm tired of the divisions in this world. May we all see the light before it's too late.

    • resspenser profile image

      Ronnie Sowell 

      7 years ago from South Carolina

      Lynda, You hit it out of the park, again! I remember the days of a bb gun, some fruit and candy and it was wonderful.

      "A signed copy of Killing Lincoln is on it's way!" LOL!

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Always good to hear from you, Tammy! Best wishes to you and your family for the season, as well. Lynda

    • profile image

      Tammy Lochmann 

      7 years ago

      Thanks Lynda! Very thought provoking, and even better than last year. Hope you and yours have a very Merry Christmas.

    • Angela Blair profile image

      Angela Blair 

      7 years ago from Central Texas

      Lynda - absolutely nothing short of spectacular -- loved it, loved it. Thanks! Best, Sis

    • PegCole17 profile image

      Peg Cole 

      7 years ago from Northeast of Dallas, Texas

      Ah, those simpler days.

      “There was a time, long ago

      When most people were grateful for the simplest of things, when the children ask me to bestow

      A doll, mittens or warm socks, a ball, pencil and paper, a toy train, skates, a spinning top".

      Now Santa gets a Tweet with a want list attached along with a promise to "like" him on facebook.

      Very creative work here. The pictures were perfect.

    • lmmartin profile imageAUTHOR


      7 years ago from Alberta and Florida

      Hi Shalini, perhaps we should rethink our priorities. We don't need to go back in order to benefit from the lessons of the past. Thanks you.

      Welcome, drbj and thank you. (Aw shucks.) This was such a fun project to write! Glad you enjoyed it. Lynda

    • drbj profile image

      drbj and sherry 

      7 years ago from south Florida

      This was beyond marvelous, Lynda - ingenious, creative, and rhyming with a message for everyone. Especially fond of he manner in which you brought up so many situations that parallel the current world crises. Brava, my dear, Happy Holidays and a great big UP!

    • Shalini Kagal profile image

      Shalini Kagal 

      7 years ago from India

      What a wonderful world it would be if we could step back into the simple pleasures of yesterday! What a thought-provoking and well written poem!


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