Santa's Calling

After the American Century

Santa's Calling

It's the week before Christmas but Santa's depressed.

His sack is still empty, he's terribly stressed.

And with global warming now melting the poles

His house and his workshop are afloat in a shoal.

Poor Mrs. Claus suffers light deprivation

And winters in Spain, a six month vacation.

His disgruntled workers are no longer "Elves",

"Vertically Challenged" they now style themselves.

His second-hand pipe smoke has them quite frightened.

And his fur-trimmed red suit is at best "Unenlightened."

Four reindeer escaped, without much propriety,

Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.

And affirmative action had made it quite clear

That Santa could no longer have just reindeer.

So instead of Donner and Dancer, Comet and Cupid,

He has three pigs and a moose, and that sure looks stupid!

And the steel runners were removed from his sleigh

Because they cut up the tundra. It was a bad day.

On Christmas Eve some parents called up the cops

When Santa clattered across their solar roof-tops.

Worse yet, he'd lost famous Rudolf, who suddenly chose

To sell Hollywood all the rights to his nose.

That reindeer told Oprah and the entire nation,

He wanted millions in over-due compensation.

And as for gifts, Santa had not a notion

That presents could cause such a commotion.

Nothing of leather, and nothing of fur,

Nothing gendered for him, nor sexy for her.

No arrows to aim, and no guns to shoot.

No motors, no sprays, for they do pollute.

No pink for the girls, or blue for the boys.

No dangerous fireworks that make lots of noise.

No candy, no sweets...they are bad for the tooth.

No campaign books, for they embellish the truth.

And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,

Are, like Barbie and Ken, better off hidden.

No baseball, no football (the kids might get hurt);

Besides, such sports exposed them to dirt.

Dolls are so sexist, and now are passe;

And online games rot the young brain away.

So Santa just stood there, fed up and perplexed;

He no longer knew what he could do next.

His sack, quite empty, hung limp to the ground;

It seemed no acceptable gifts could be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that one might

Give to all on the Left, or to all on the Right.

A gift for the Red States, a gift for the Blue,

A gift for the entire political zoo.

A gift that none would feel was taboo

For Christian, Jew, Moslem, Buddhist, Hindu

Every ethnicity, all possible hues,

Everyone, everywhere, and that means you, too.

What is that gift? A smart phone of great worth,

Distracting us all, it brings peace to the earth.

Who has time for discord, once that screen's lit?

Why go into the street, if you can just sit?

Santa saw in a flash that his freedom had come.

He shouted, he danced, he forgot he'd been glum.

Never again would he race the world round,

Nor respond to kids' letters from each little town,

No more presents to haul, nor chimneys to down.

No more stockings to stuff, no more cookies to eat,

No red suit to wear or black boots on his feet,

No freezing up North, nor working all year,

He'd no longer feed those ungrateful reindeer.

Santa turned on his Ipad. He'd sell that old sleigh,

And Fed-Ex phones to all, to come Christmas Day. 

© 2007 David E. Nye [revised 29-12-22]

Christmas and Americanization

Traditionally, we try to push aside gloom and doubts to celebrate Christmas. I sing in a choir, and we have done our part of spreading good cheer, with no less than four concerts during the past two weeks. The music chosen is a good index to the content of the services. The text for most of the hymns comes in fairly direct fashion from the New Testament, whether in Danish, English, or Latin. Yes, Latin is still a living language when it comes to ecclesiastical affairs. We have a work by Palestrina in Latin, for example, and one work with a text in delightfully garbled Old English mixed up with Latin phrases. German hymns are noticeably absent from the repertoire of the choirs I know, and it seems likely that this is an effect of World War II. Occupation did not endear the Germans to the Danes, who frequently perform Handel's Messiah, in English of course, while a performance of Bach's Christmas Oratorio is far more rare.

The prominence of English should not be mistaken for Americanization, as the pieces chosen by most choirs are from British composers. In the case of the Odense Motet Kor, which I sing with, the earliest British work is by William Byrd, in a series that ends with Benjamin Brittain, John Carter, and Vaughn Williams. American Christmas music, as experienced in Denmark, belongs on the street or the department store, where I hear Bing Crosby croon about that white Christmas we seldom have here and numerous versions of Rudolf. So, the uplifting religious sounds are English, inspired in good part by Cambridge University traditions, while the bouncy and sentimental tunes are American, much the same as one might hear in the US.

The most powerful musical tradition, however, remains Danish. A whole host of songs, both religious and secular, have been composed over the centuries. Some of these melodies seem to me, at least, to be drawn from abroad and reworked into Danish with a new text, but if so they have been thoroughly assimilated. Virtually all Danes seem to know this musical tradition, and on December 24 they will be singing with enthusiasm around their Christmas trees, which are covered with flickering candles - not electric bulbs. These little fires all over a tree that is rapidly drying out are a definite fire hazard, but consider that most families insist on dancing around the tree, with many chances to brush against the limbs and set them waving. And note that some (well, many) of the adults are not really dancing but more staggering around the tree after eating and especially drinking quite a lot, and you have the recipe for conflagration. Yet in fact, I have never seen an accident, which may prove that a higher power is benevolently looking down on the giddy proceedings. Just in case, the Danish family typically has a bucket of water at the ready.

For anyone out there who thinks that Americanization is washing over the world with little resistance, Danish Christmas suggests otherwise. The songs are European, the mountain of protein on the table is usually NOT a turkey, but far more likely a duck, a goose, or pork. And the rituals of the day are all local traditions, too. For example, after the family circles the tree for a while, the youngest child leads them in a line-dance through the entire house. And the presents are usually opened not on the 25th, but after dinner on the 24th. In fact, the Danes love Christmas so much they have an extra dinner on the 23rd. They give it a name - "Little Christmas Eve" - and consider it to be almost as sacred to family life as the following night.

Finally, what about the presents under the tree? Some of them are American, of course, and these are often digital, whether computer software, DVDs of Hollywood films, or a new Ipod. But while a survey would be required to confirm my hunch, I strongly suspect that Christmas is a time of patriotic giving. Danish books and music seem prominent in the store windows, and many presents are expensive, high-quality examples of Danish design. To put this another way, I wonder if the American presents might prove to be a bit ephemeral, while the Danish gifts may well be displayed or used for years.

As for me, Christmas will be in Connecticut this year. It is time for some personal re-Americanization after being immersed (and thoroughly enjoying) several consecutive years of the marvelous Danish Christmas.

Santa's Calling

'Twas the week before Christmas and Santa's a wreck.

His sack was still empty, for what's politically correct?

His disgruntled workers were no longer "Elves",

"Vertically Challenged" they now styled themselves.

His second-hand pipe smoke made them quite frightened.

And his fur-trimmed red suit was at best "Unenlightened."

Plus, global warming was melting North Pole

Drowning his workshop and house in a shoal.

Poor Mrs. Claus, had light deprivation,

And wintered in Spain, a six month vacation.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,

Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.

And affirmative action had made it quite clear

That Santa no longer could have just reindeer.

So instead of Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,

He had three pigs and a moose, and that sure looked stupid!

Then he'd lost flashing Rudolf. Santa's heart nearly froze 

When a network bought all the rights to his nose.

That reindeer told Oprah and the entire nation,

He wanted millions in over-due compensation.

Worse still, people had started to call up the cops

If his team clattered on their solar roof-tops.

And then the steel runners were banned from the sleigh

Because they cut up the tundra. What a sad day!

And as for gifts, why, he'd not had a notion

That giving presents could cause such a commotion.

Nothing of leather, and nothing of fur,

Nothing gendered for him, nor sexy for her.

No arrows to aim, and no guns to shoot.

No motors, no sprays, for they do pollute

No pink for the girls, or blue for the boys.

No dangerous fireworks that made lots of noise.

No candy, no sweets...they were bad for the tooth.

No campaign books, for they embellish the truth.

And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,

Were, like Barbie and Ken, better off hidden.

No baseball, no football (the kids might get hurt);

Besides, rough sports exposed them to dirt.

Dolls were all sexist, and now were passe;

And games would rot a young brain away.

So Santa just stood there, fed up and perplexed;

He no longer knew what he could do next.

He tried to be merry, he tried to be gay,

But he had to be careful with that word today.

His sack, quite empty, hung limp to the ground;

No acceptable gift, it seemed, could be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that one might

Give to all on the Left, or to all on the Right.

A gift for the Red States, a gift for the Blue,

A gift for the entire political zoo.

A gift that none would feel was taboo

For Christian, Jew, Moslem, Buddhist, Hindu

Every ethnicity, all possible hues,

Everyone, everywhere, and surely, you too.

What is that gift? A smart phone beyond worth,

By distracting us all, it brings peace to the earth.

Who has time for discord, once the screen's lit?

Why go into the street, if you can just sit?

Santa saw in a flash that his freedom had come.

He shouted, he danced, he forgot he'd been glum.

Never again would he race the world round,

Nor respond to kids' letters from each little town,

No more presents to haul, nor chimneys to down,

No more stockings to fill, no more cookies to eat,

No red suit to wear or fat boots on his feet,

No freezing up North, nor working all year,

He'd no longer feed those ungrateful reindeer.

Santa turned on his phone. He'd sell that old sleigh,

And mail-order those phones, to come Christmas Day. 

© 2007 David E. Nye [revised 21-12-07]