True Art comes from Hardship
And as a result of the hardships of the New England Ice Storm, 2008, I give you one Holdenites Art having gone through no electricity for an extended period of time:
by the way, the Holdenite is not me. This is not my poem, and when I find out who’s it is, I’ll let you know.
“Our Nightmare Before Christmas
Twas two weeks before Christmas and all through the town it rained and it froze and the trees all fell down.
The wires that were strung on utility poles snapped like a twig and the houses all froze.
We got our selves nestled all snug in our bed while visions of warmer days danced in our head,
and me in my thermals and Pa in his cap stayed huddled together for a bone chilling nap.
The moon on the ice made a crystalline glow and we thought to ourselves, just how long can this go?
When what to our wondering eyes did appear
but our son with some coffee and donuts and cheer.
We could see our white breath in the darkness above and deep under the covers I searched for my love.
His feet, they were frozen and so was his head — made me think to myself that he just might be dead.
The days passed so slowly, we must be insane as we waited and wondered and called out by name
“On Thursday, on Friday, on Saturday (is this it!)
on Sunday, on Monday, on Tuesday (please quit!)
on Wednesday, and Thursday and Friday (oh dread!)
the kerosene fumes must have gone to our head.
To add to the pleasure of winter’s delight two snowstorms came by – 18 inches of white.
The snowing and blowing made things bad to worse and we prayed to the heavens our pipes wouldn’t burst.
Pa’s eyes now were sunken, his expression — not merry, his cheeks had a pallor, his nose like a cherry.
The odd little smile on his face wasn’t fun and he often was mumbling “go get my gun”.
Then a rap on the door, and the fireman said, “Are you sick, are you sane, and is anyone dead?
There’s a shelter, there’s warmth, you can come if you’re able, we have showers and kindness and food on the table” — and we looked at each other and thought — “what the heck?”
yeah … eleven days later you FINALLY check!
On night number twelve we heard the faint roar of a convoy of trucks and we ran to the door.
To the top of the poles, to the stretch of the cable — please bring us your power just as fast as you’ re able!
They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work and the power came on with a hum and a jerk.
They heard us exclaim, as they drove out of sight —
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL! WE HAVE HEAT! WE HAVE LIGHT!”
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Wow. That was completely awesome.
Hi Marty, We love your poem, it applies to all of us poor slobs in the “north 40″ wherever that is. May we have permission to publish this in our small town newsletter (525 copies) here in Mason, NH? Since we were out of power here in New England for up to 2 weeks, I know everyone would get a kick out of it. We would credit you as author as well. Thank you very much. Very creative piece! Stay warm. Regards, Deb
Very clever! I find myself wondering who wrote it. Do I know them? Are you allowed to tell?