"Time for Santa"

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind, and as whirlwinds are difficult to describe for the best of writers, this one won't even try!

However you celebrate this season, however you work to tamp it down, you've likely a fond memory somewhere in that head of yours, and a few lingering issues from childhood. 

In lieu of a holiday card, please enjoy this physics-inspired explanation of how Santa gets it done, something about which everyone, no matter their tradition, no matter their age, has secretly wondered.

A few words about the poet, one HG Pfadenhauer, who only recently appeared in our region of Tête de Hergé, west of the Lone Alp.

He's one of the few remaining troubadours in this world that needs a good many more of his sort.

His musical abilities are interesting, true.  He totes several ukuleles (one electric), a sitar, and a bodhrán with the sort of patina that might drive The Antique Roadshow experts into a speechless frenzy.  Physically, he's an elegant and understated dresser, unusual for a troubadour, whom we usually picture as either some medieval jester-in-green-felt or a hobo stomping the arid byways of the Dust Bowl of the Dirty Thirties.  

Yes, he's tall and lean, his hair trimmed but long, and the lines on his face are fascinatingly cheerful.  His vests and tailored shirts are of the finest, quietest fabrics, his one ostentation a pair of Schott NYC 604 Perfecto Boot-Cut Steerhide Leather Pants, a necessary nod to his lifestyle: GW drives a vintage Vespa.

Sven Feingold is watching Bianca Castafiore watch the charming troubadour, and Sven's son, Cabana Boy, is watching them all.

It's simply been, as I said, a whirlwind of late, and when I held finger to air, the promise of entropy is what swirled against that digit.

HG Pfadenhauer has brought welcome relief, and a measure of delight.  Should you, wherever, whoever you are, need a bit of a delightful seasonal ditty, HG Pfadenhauer has authorized this blog publication of the highlight to his Wassail Festival Song Fest.

We wish you all a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Joyous Holidays!  

​St. Nicholas in Harper's Weekly: January 1881

Time For Santa

by HG Pfadenhauer

By way of explanation

what with the world's increasing population

bringing Toys to every nation

takes longer than it used to

so the reindeer are on vacation

and Santa uses solar radiation

to run his sleigh without cessation

everywhere he goes to

Now, Santa is a pacifist, a realist

an existentialist

a physicist hobbyist

with a theoretical kind of sleigh

an engine that can run all night

faster than the speed of light

can make Christmas very bright

for all the kids on Christmas day

You can fly around all night

as you approach the speed of light

encroach upon the speed of light

and it'll all seem OK

but once you pass the speed of light

your sense of time is not quite right

the dark begins to turn to light

time flies the other way

Santa was being shadowed by the NSA

the FBI and the CIA

Homeland Security all the way

for the Red White and BlueSA

'cause he might be a terrorist

a communist, a feminist

or a psycho...therapist

gotta keep that kind away

They searched the skies in hopes that they

could locate him while on his way

drawn by deer his laden sleigh

would leave a trail, give him away

they didn't know what Santa'd done

his sleigh now powered by the sun

and how that mighty sleigh could run

how fast no one could say

He could see himself coming when he turned around

he was off again ere he touched the ground

his sleigh too fast to make a sound

his presence to betray

Santa left his gifts that night

for all the children sleeping tight

who'll wake come morning in delight 

across the USA

Then off to Europe Santa flew

and yes, he went to Asia too

then Africa, Australia

and then to South America

then having finished leaving toys

for all the world's girls and boys

due north now did he point his sleigh

for it was nearly yesterday

Once home he put his sleigh away

with Mrs. Claus he hit the hay

and snoozed the snowy day away

somewhere far north of Nome

and when at last, his snoozing done

he watched the setting of the sun

with wife and elves, everyone

spent Christmas Eve at home