Twas was the night before Christmas when all along the dikes, the farmers’ fields and villages, no creature was stirring, not even a coyote, an eagle or duck.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with tape from London Drugs in hopes that St. George would soon be there.
The town folk of Ladner and Tsawwassen were all snug in their beds, while visions of Newmans rib eye and Richlea cakes danced in their heads.
Mama in her nighty from Boutique Blanche and Papa in his nightshirt from Mark’s just settled down after a wild night of drinking for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the roof came such a clatter. They sprang from their beds to check Facebook to see what was the matter?
We looked up to the sky and what to our wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh pulled by eight tiny politicians. We knew in a moment it must be St. George.
More rapid than a hawk, he whistled and shouted and called them by name, “Now, Carla, Now Ian, Now Alicia and Dan! On Lois and Jeannie! On Dylan, and Bruce, hurry up and head to the roof”.
They flew past us with a sleigh full of gifts, and then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing of each little foot.
Down the chimney St. George came with a bound. He was dressed in a red suit, his clothes tarnished with cannabis and hemp.
A bundle of promises for us town folk he had flung on his back, yet he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes, how they twinkled, above his black mask, he was a right jolly old Mayor.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head and we knew he was here to make campaign wishes come true.
He went straight to work, and filled all our stockings with promises of vaccines for all, affordable housing, a new bridge, efficient public transit, money for schools and family doctors.
Then he turned with a jerk and gave us a wink and a nod. We knew he and his gang could never deliver, but with such charm St. George could do no harm.
Up the chimney he rose and sprang to his sleigh, and gave his team a whistle. I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, “We’ll work to make your 2021 dreams come true, with a little luck, ingenuity, and a lot of cash. Now dash away politicians, dash away.”
Merry Christmas to all, be kind, be calm, be safe, and to all a good night!
Ingrid Abbott is a freelance broadcaster and writer who wishes everyone happy holidays.
