Santa Claus (aka Father Christmas; Kris Kringle; Ole Saint Nick etcetcetc)
My name is Griswold. 1st time I write you. I know do Youtide til friend and naybour melita show me how. Like tinsel and glowballs and sprinkles on gingerpeople. Sing songs about holly, stars and chrissmass trees. Put clothesline in kitchen and hang up youtide grating cards. Your picture is on lots and lots of them.
Melita sez Youtide magic r u; like making that dog and those raindeer fly. And, her personfriend whose a hysterical archetype, sez you deliver to good kids. He also sez your company is a big corp that operates global-like. Your workers look happy; dancing, singing just like folks who are Amazoned. (And thinks maybe you let them be unioned?)
Melita sez kids right you letters with wish lists. But you know knotty from nice.
So, here is how I was good when things were bad, like people getting viral and quartertined.
Melita showed me how make tanks you grating cards on computer. We send to all sorts of front liners! Then, we make murry chrissymass grating cards for folks in long-term care places. Melita sez they get lonely and such. Grating cards cheery-up.
And and Griswold made Melita’s garden grow; she brought extra to a soap kitchen downtown. Me eat more veg this summer than weeds, even. (Melita no see me make funny, yucky faces at eggyplant and zoochini.)
Me Melita plus And are in bubbles – no silly santa, not wear fishbowls like in bikini bottoms! Self-islanded, then we be good wear masks and Griswold wash paws all time. (Mother worry me be humanized and catchy.)
Live on empty coup-der-sack without naybours. So, we go to other street and draw happy on sidewalks to make people smile even if nobody see smily mouths cuz wearing masks. Can see smily eyes, tho.
When melita is all sad-like cuz of waity news and stuff, I do dancing for her – likes my shuffle, paw-stomp, splay-foot squiggle dance. I be careful with tale when inside.
Know you are head of big comglomeration, so no take up too much time — Melita says I am digressor. Means I wander.
Melita is free lancer so taught me how to research you and your company. watch about you on television; listen to songs; read books and po.ems like nite afore chrissymas. Figure out what sorts of magical you do.
There be youtide song Griswold like what goes:
For I’ve grown a little leaner
Grown little colder
Grown little sadder
Grown little older
For we need a little music
Need little laughter
Need a little singing
Ringing through the rafter
And we need a little snappy
“Happy ever after”
Need a little Christmas now
It’s sung in a play when things have gone all crazy-sad and bad after stock market tumbles like humpty-dumpty, and people lose their undershirts and all.
Seems to me, Griswold, that 2020 is bleakish, too. So, asking if you, santa, could bring “a little christmas” to everybody. Like with singing and laughing (I chort-chortle out my ears when things are sunny and funny). “happily ever after” nice too. (Melita and me are side by each’s happily ever afters).
Melita and me making gingerpeople with sprinkles for you, and carrot cake for your raindeer. hope they like creamedcheese dressing.
tanks in advance,
PS: maybe you bring me gift two: hide scratchy sweater so Mother not make me wear?
I was pulling together the various Griswold stories I’ve written for mlmm tale weaver (since March 19 2015) and realized I hadn’t posted anything Griswoldian in 2020. A year without Griswold is commentary on just how difficult and challenging these times have been.
The mlmm Sunday writing prompt is “Dear Santa;” so Griswold suggested he could right to the jolly old elf hisself. English is Griswold’s second language; Melita helps with the edits when he posts to my blog. Griswold wanted to keep his wish list a secret, so her editorial hand isn’t here.
If anyone could inject some much-needed magic and whimsy into life in the time of virus, Griswold would be just the sort of monster to do so.
*CPO – chief present officer.
The song is “We Need a Little Christmas” from the Broadway production of “Mame.” Mame loses all her money when the stock market crashes in 1929. As she is totally unprepared for working, she is fired from a series of jobs. She comes home from yet another fiasco, and thinking the members of her household deserve a little cheering up, sings . . . “we need a little chrissymass” . . .
In case you haven’t met, Griswold is a small monster, orangish fur, tufts of hair on the tippy-top of his ears, amethyst eyes, large paws with long talons, swishy tail longer than he is tall. His tail is expressive – it makes frowns and smiles. Laughter chuff-chortles out of his ears, and he does a splay-footed dance of greeting and happiness.
He lives in the attic apartment with his parents, Mrs. & Mr. G above his friend (or pet, she isn’t sure which) Melita. Since their first meeting, they have shared adventures in their midnight garden behind the house. Life with the Griswolds is never dull, and they have grown into each other’s lives.
And Gumpsion joined the duo in their adventures after meeting Melita during a midnight delivery on behalf of his father. He shares the same strange night-time routine, and love of the magical world that Melita and Griswold do. That special place, that magical world which surrounds us if we stop and listen for its rhythms. (compilation of Griswoldian intros/bios)
Might I recommend watching A Muppet Christmas Carol? In “A meta-masterpiece: why The Muppet Christmas Carol is the perfect festive film,” Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett of The Guardian, writes:
With songs written by a former addict, the tale of redemption is sincere. And its heartfelt goofiness awakens your inner child . . .
Here’s just a taste:
murry chrissymass to all, and to all a good nite . . .