Christmas Ode to Nan

We used to meet at Nan's house, when Nan was alive.

She always hosted a potluck for the community

On December 23, to celebrate her birthday,

That everyone looked forward to,

Because Nan was a special person,

(Short, kind, crazy-smart, all about community,

Luminous white hair, plaited down her back.)

Just about everyone would come,

Or have to face the question: "Where were you?".

And before the potluck, there was caroling

In the village,

Which was not that popular, but always a thing.

Depending on the weather,

Shirley and I would sometimes go.

We would walk from house to house

Connecting dots of light,

The houses that had lights on.

Ring the doorbell or knock,

Start right in singing

To the muffled barking of a dog

Or to the sudden appearance of a child at the window,

Or just to the house, as the case may be.

And then, maybe the door would open

(Sort of like breaking a seal. . .

Who in Vermont ever uses their front door!)

And we would sing our second selection

To our audience of one or two,

Or to one and half or two and a quarter.

We would end with "We wish you a merry Christmas",

As we walked off, deeper into the village,

Feeling, each of us, a good warm vibe,

Mostly nostalgic of origin, I guess,

Warmed by the sense

That we were carrying on a tradition,

And that it was a good tradition.

I'm not a Christian,

But that never held me back

From belting out

"Oh little town of Bethlehem",

And "It came upon a midnight clear",

Or one of the less religious ones

Made popular

By the crooners of the fifties,

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. . ."

"Sleighbells ring, are ya' listening. . ."

Then it was back to Nan's.

The house is bursting with people now,

The mudroom piled with boots,

The coats are knee-high under the over-utilized hooks . . .

The table in the kitchen is covered, every inch,

With food!

Every room (all three) filled to capacity

With folks, sitting and standing.

Most I know by name,

Some only by face or, if not in sight, by laugh.

Then, after the food, there is movement toward the living room.

Leslie is seated at the piano.

He starts right in with big chords,

Reeling off a rousing medley

That lets the most oblivious of the throng

Know that the singing is about to start!

Of course, as always, the first song

Is Happy Birthday to Nan.

Everyone joins in.

Nan is right there, taking it in.

Everyone loves Nan.

Everyone loves this!

This. . . this.

That . . ., Gone now.

Gone with her.

Oh, we tried to keep it going. . .

Happy Birthday Nan.