Poems

‘Twas the Night …

70 Comments

God bless Clement Clark Moore, who gave parodists a simple rhyme to corrupt each year at this time. I have made a life’s work out of repeatedly ruining “A Visit From St. Nicholas“, Moore’s 1823 verse credited with creating many of our popular notions of Santa Claus.

I do this because it’s easy, because I’ve been invited to a Solstice party where people are encouraged to bring seasonal poetry, and because “Twas the night before Christmas …” is so ingrained in our holiday tradition it cannot be damaged by any assault.

And it’s endlessly updatable:

‘Twas night of the solstice, a dark one throughout.
I was under surveillance – there wasn’t a doubt.

My cell phone activity had been compiled
and parsed and examined and noted and filed.

My Internet searches were hacked and collected.
My GPS data was tracked, as expected.

So as I settled down, warm and snug and alone
there was nothing about me that couldn’t be known.

When out on the lawn arose a great cry.
There were copters and fighter jets up in the sky.

The harsh glare of searchlights swept down through the trees.
The whole street was soon filled up with black SUVs.

There were Seals from the Navy attacking my door.
They were backed up by SWAT teams. I knew not what for.

So I did then what people do when they’re confused.
I turned on the TV and went straight for FOX News.

And there to my wondering eyes did appear,
Geraldo Rivera – bare-chested, sincere.

He had jumped out of bed and run straight to my place
Because word was the N.S.A. was on the case

of a fugitive miscreant – here at my home.
Who would be apprehended, just like Al Capone.

And I realized as I heard door jambs implodin’
They’d mixed me up once again with Edward Snowden!

Because stalking technology’s easily conned
When you buy the same stuff at Bed, Bath and Beyond.

So as laser sight pinpricks danced jigs on my chest
I said “there goes my dream of a long winter’s rest”.

While I waited for Seal Team Six, soon to arrive
For my interrogation, (that’s if I survive)

I considered the peace of the season we’re in.
How our Mother, the Earth, will reliably spin

and we’ll turn toward the light that will banish our fear
On the longest and darkest night of the whole year.

Have you ever suffered a case of mistaken identity?

70 thoughts on “‘Twas the Night …”

  1. Good morning. Once in awhile I have someone tell me I look like someone they know. So far, it hasn’t been the FBI or some other government agency confusing me with Edward Snowden or a similar person. I suppose that could happen. Snowden has told us about the many ways the government can track all of us. We also know that some of those people who do computer work for the government can make a lot of mistakes. If you don’t hear from me some morning I might in the custody of some federal agency.

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  2. with a name like michael jones i get the eye roll every time i am asked for my information. the most interesting one was the time at the airport when they pulled me over for expired liscence plate tabs and when checking out michael jones they found him to be an escaped murderer from texas . the rent a cops at the airport started doing a barney fife routine falling all over themselves and reaching for their guns and stumbling into the back of the car. when they realized i was a different guy the breathed a bigger sigh of relief than i did, i dint understand they thought i was going to kill them in order to escape.

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        1. Right. Who would name their kid Edith? And I suppose Steve is not only your alias, but your pen name, since you have books published under that name.

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        2. And I think I’ve read them all now — although I had to resort to Inter Library Loan for the last one!

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  3. Wonderful poem! I confused my son’s pediatrician early on when he couldn’t figure out why a woman he knew professionally under one name (me, who kept her name when she got married)) was in his office with an ill child who had a different last name. He thought i was the professional he had encountered, but he wasn’t sure, and it was funny to watch him try to finesse the situation and find out my name without asking me directly.

    Once in college i was riding the city bus in Fargo with a bunch of other students when one of the passengers started talking to me, mistaking me for another student who I sort of resembled. She got so mad when I didn’t answer her, and I didn’t get a chance to explain before she reached her stop. She later became one of my best friends.

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  4. I am often confused with myself, which I find confusing. I think I am who I am and then I find out I am someone else. Then next time I think I am someone else but find I’m me. It’s me I like best, but often I would like to be someone else, but not the someone else I am, but want to be a different someone else, someone bold and exotic with hands that work. But the someone else I am am, sometimes, does not have working hands either. The am I am I am sometimes ashamed of. What I do like is that the me who I am when I am the someone else that I am doesn’t look much like the am I am, so if I chose the right day, I can go out as the me who I am and no one knows who I am. But it may be a day when no one recognizes me as the someone else that I am, sometimes people do know me. Sometimes not.
    When I was younger, people in all places from Two Harbors to Chicago wanted to call me Chuck. But the Chuck me moved to Oregon and went on to great success, so maybe I should have been Chuck. Then I do not think I would be on the Trail, or maybe I always was on the trail, a deviant synapse of Fearless Leader’s frontal cortex off in the woods somewhere, which, Fearless Leader, does not look at all like a jungle. So are we really who we think we are? Baboons. Or just two-dimensional reflections of the grayer, more insecure part of Dale? Are people really who they seem in radio? Is anything real in public radio? I mean, that “public” part probably makes people very private or perhaps too public. But I digress. I did one day off in the woods in the back left there run into a Holden Caufield, but was it HOLDEN CAUFIELD, or just holden caufield?
    Today I am the me who is on the woods. Lost perhaps. Maybe not. Maybe . . .

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    1. And now to post this WP asked me if I am me but I was not sure how to answer. But WP seems to think this is the me who I am and not the someone else who I am may be. So I feel better now. One of us does, anyway.

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    2. Clyde, what would we do without you? (More commas would help in a couple of those sentences – starting to read like tim’s posts.)

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  5. Bill Nelson is a great name to have if you aspire toward anonymity, as I do. I don’t know the current tally, but at one time there were 12 of us here in Minneapolis, one of the others also with a wife named Robin. Sloppy background and credit checks have occasionally caused problems; it falls upon me to somehow prove that I am not the miscreant Bill Nelson.
    When I was in high school, I sat in front of another Bill Nelson. He was perpetually in trouble for something or other. When the call came to our home room to send Bill Nelson to the office, I would sometimes go in order to give him a little time to concoct an alibi (and just to mess with the disciplinarian). Eventually, they began distinguishing us by our student numbers.

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    2. I have a first name that I share with a great many people. When it is combined with my last name, Tjepkema, I don’t have any trouble with being confused with anyone due to my name. Tjepkema is a well know name in Friesland. There are very few people who are familiar with that name here.

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    3. I have a friend whose name is so generic that it used to give me fits. I knew that man intimately, but both when I was with him or just at odd moments I could not summon up his name from memory. So I think I understand your anonymity, Bill Nelson. If you want people to remember you, don’t change your name to Gary Johnson.

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    5. If you want to change your identity or throw people off, you could always use a different variation of William. You could try Will – or Willie. Willie Nelson has a nice ring to it.

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      2. There is a product line of flavorings called Wee Willy. Like, they sell a “steak flavoring” you can add to your loose meat sandwiches. Every time I see that stuff in the grocery store I am amazed. Are there men who would actually buy a product labeled “Wee Willy?”

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        1. We’ve actually had Wee Willy’s Dipping Sauce – I didn’t buy it, must have been Husband, which means it was on special, or with a coupon.

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  6. Excellent, Dale. I particularly love
    And there to my wondering eyes did appear,
    Geraldo Rivera – bare-chested, sincere.

    I can’t think of a time when I was involved in mistaken identity – not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Having a very unique name helps with that… there aren’t too many Sherrilees on the planet.

    I’m glad to be home — although I just shoveled the sidewalk this morning!!!

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  7. You’d think there wouldn’t be a lot of Barbara Britsons, but my cousin, surname Britson, married a Barbara. In the early 70s they had the nerve to live in my home town, where she taught 5th grade. When I got back to Marshalltown IA for a few months after leaving Wasband in 1976, I did some substitute teaching there, and wouldn’t you know it, some people thought I would be her when they saw who was subbing that day. (Of course, I imagine she had endured the same…)

    I can’t recall having any trouble being B Hassing, but I’ll think on it.

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  8. My mom used to get condolence calls after people heard that Jake had died.She had to tell them they phoned for the wrong Jake. My dad had about 5 cousins named Jake, all with the same surname. Now i think he is the only one left.

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  9. OT – I just saw that both Joan Fontaine and Peter O’Toole have passed away. So sad. I remember when I saw Lawrence of Arabia for the first time. Oh my, those blue eyes!

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    1. You know, vs, I can’t really feel too bad about Peter O’Toole. He strikes me as a man who packed a lot of living into his 81 years on the earth. And I have to smile at the prospect of “It distresses us to return work which is not perfect” being engraved on his tombstone. It was a note he once received pinned to a favorite, beaten up old leather jacked when it was returned from his dry cleaner, and he thought it would make a good epitaph.

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      1. my favorite epitaph of all time. but i still hate to see him go he always had a line for me to take home each time i have seen him interviewed the last fistful of years. i really liked him

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        1. I’ve always favored “My Favorite Year” as the quintessential Peter O’Toole movie. It has the best line ever written in a comedy (just a bit better than “I’ll have what she’s having.”):

          Peter O’Toole, enormously drunk, reels into the women’s restroom and begins to pee.
          A woman cries out, “You can’t do that! This is for the ladies!”

          Peter O’Toole zips up his fly and says, “So, madam, is this. But I’m required to run a little water through it now and then.”

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    2. oh noooooooooooooooooooo
      i met peter at a book signing over in st paul 20 years ago. he was wonderful.
      i had seen him interviewed buy charlie rose earlier in the week. i commented that charlie was kind of pushy and he looked up form signing the book for me and said ” yes he is rather intense isn’t he.” he had that dreamy not to serious look in his eyes and a far away gaze just like the hero in “my favorite year” that may have been a bit more autobiographical than was let on.
      joan fontain my secret crush from the age of the divas. her role in the cary grant movie suspiscion was one of my all time favorites. i loved her and found her beautiful in an elegant genteel way unlike most of the divas of the 40’s her sister olivia de haviland was more famous early but i think they ended up with separate distinction and recognition as time went on.
      i saw the first of the year end salutes to those who have died this year over the weekend and by the time i watch in on sunday morning on the one between christmas and new years i will be a basket case.
      welcome back vs/ look what happens when you return.

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      1. I have a hunch that a lot of old Peter O’Toole movies will be watched in the next few days. I don’t think that man had a lot of regrets. He lived, partied quite extravagantly, and had a irrepressible sense of humor. I’m a whole lot more inclined to celebrate his life than mourn his loss. I bet there’s one hell of party going on somewhere in the afterlife.

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  10. New to town and a church. my wife heard and passed on that Edna Hall had died. Then that evening at a church event in walked Edna Hall and sat down beside her. It was Edna Hill who had died.

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      2. This reminds me of when I created a Caring Bridge web site using my own name. It was rejected because there already was a “Nancy Edwards” being used. I learned that she’d died, but her site was still active for some reason. A number of acquaintances at that time would type my name into the field to visit my site and read that I was already dead. More than a few were shocked by how fast my cancer had taken off. Ultimately, I had no choice but to go under “nancyedwards1”.

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  11. I’ve been the victim of mistaken identity so many times. SO many times i have yelled, “You have the wrong person! I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!” But I get thrown into jail anyway.

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  12. twas christmas time sorta right here on the trail
    we just check in seeing what thoughts come from dale
    \
    when out in the internet someone discovered
    what we on the trial seem to daily uncover

    the secret of christmas is simple and yet
    people all get confused think its about what you get

    christmas is only a couple weeks long
    so instead of inventing another brand new christmas song

    we think of our favorites the ones that feel good
    the ones we would siong everyday if we could

    white christmas silver bells chestnuts on a fire
    with songs that give meaning to the life we desire

    and other christmas ideas are just like that too
    to try hard to be the best possible you

    to smile as you walk by those children so small
    who still think that deep down lifes good for us all

    if only we took form this yearly occasion
    the essence of love it would be just amazin

    could we find 3 more calendar dates to remember
    maybe ones in march june and again in september

    and on those three dates just like christmas we’d see
    what it takes to be the the person we’d like everybody to be

    well out in the world there’d arise such a clatter
    that even fox news would ask what was the matter

    people are treating each other with care
    in hopes that the baboons trail is a place they can share

    where all the baboons treat everyone nice
    it may change the world and have a really high price

    the war machine lobby would go out of business
    and instead wed be trying to sort out forgivness

    and all the baboons would become world leaders
    vs dale jim and clyde would all be evil beaters

    they’ve tried decades the other way now its our turn
    what a place we can live in what lessons we’ll learn
    and what to his wondering eyes should appear
    a new growth of love and disappearance of fear?

    as he says in december march june and september to all
    merry christmas and everyday in the spring summer and fall

    so gather up baboons and take to the trail
    and lets take up a collection to help edith make bail

    and work toward resolving problems from the heart
    its a new world today happy holidays … start

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    2. Well done, tim – I particularly like “if only we took form this yearly occasion
      the essence of love it would be just amazin “.

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  14. I have twin sons, now 62 years old, identical, once very identical, now less so. They have many stories. In elementary school the kids would ten the sub teacher they had switched seats when they hadn’t, but she would make them switch. They are our son’s godparents. He could not figure out for 3-4 years why this guy who came up to see us had two names. One lives and works in Burnsville. The other works in downtown Mpls and lives now back in Chisago. But 3-4 times a year one or the other would have to patiently explain that they were Twins, that there were two of them and the confused person knew the other one.

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  16. Although I have an uncommon last name, there are several others with the same name in the U.S. One of them lives in the Twin Cities and goes to some of the same medical clinics as I do, and fills prescriptions at the same pharmacy. I once got a letter intended for her about her cardiac test results, and more than once the pharmacy has tried to give me her prescriptions.

    I’ve never met her, but I believe she is married to a distant cousin of mine.

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  17. Pingback: The Long and (Very) Winding Road | Trail Baboon

  20. Forgot again. Oh, man. What kind of day am I going to have?!

    The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus
    by Ogden Nash

    In Baltimore there lived a boy.
    He wasn’t anybody’s joy.
    Although his name was Jabez Dawes,
    His character was full of flaws.

    In school he never led his classes,
    He hid old ladies’ reading glasses,
    His mouth was open when he chewed,
    And elbows to the table glued.
    He stole the milk of hungry kittens,
    And walked through doors marked NO ADMITTANCE.
    He said he acted thus because
    There wasn’t any Santa Claus.

    Another trick that tickled Jabez
    Was crying ‘Boo’ at little babies.
    He brushed his teeth, they said in town,
    Sideways instead of up and down.
    Yet people pardoned every sin,
    And viewed his antics with a grin,
    Till they were told by Jabez Dawes,
    ‘There isn’t any Santa Claus!’

    Deploring how he did behave,
    His parents swiftly sought their grave.
    They hurried through the portals pearly,
    And Jabez left the funeral early.

    Like whooping cough, from child to child,
    He sped to spread the rumor wild:
    ‘Sure as my name is Jabez Dawes
    There isn’t any Santa Claus!’
    Slunk like a weasel of a marten
    Through nursery and kindergarten,
    Whispering low to every tot,
    ‘There isn’t any, no there’s not!’

    The children wept all Christmas eve
    And Jabez chortled up his sleeve.
    No infant dared hang up his stocking
    For fear of Jabez’ ribald mocking.

    He sprawled on his untidy bed,
    Fresh malice dancing in his head,
    When presently with scalp-a-tingling,
    Jabez heard a distant jingling;
    He heard the crunch of sleigh and hoof
    Crisply alighting on the roof.
    What good to rise and bar the door?
    A shower of soot was on the floor.

    What was beheld by Jabez Dawes?
    The fireplace full of Santa Claus!
    Then Jabez fell upon his knees
    With cries of ‘Don’t,’ and ‘Pretty Please.’
    He howled, ‘I don’t know where you read it,
    But anyhow, I never said it!’
    ‘Jabez’ replied the angry saint,
    ‘It isn’t I, it’s you that ain’t.
    Although there is a Santa Claus,
    There isn’t any Jabez Dawes!’

    Said Jabez then with impudent vim,
    ‘Oh, yes there is, and I am him!
    Your magic don’t scare me, it doesn’t’
    And suddenly he found he wasn’t!
    From grimy feet to grimy locks,
    Jabez became a Jack-in-the-box,
    An ugly toy with springs unsprung,
    Forever sticking out his tongue.

    The neighbors heard his mournful squeal;
    They searched for him, but not with zeal.
    No trace was found of Jabez Dawes,
    Which led to thunderous applause,
    And people drank a loving cup
    And went and hung their stockings up.

    All you who sneer at Santa Claus,
    Beware the fate of Jabez Dawes,
    The saucy boy who mocked the saint.
    Donner and Blitzen licked off his paint.

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  21. Glad you liked it, Dale! I had a great day, as a substitute teacher in a class of 28 second graders, who were SO ready to be on vacation. And now they are. And I am too!

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