How I Imagined the Grandview Sixth Ward Christmas Party 2013

‘Twas 18 nights before Christmas, and all through the ward
Not a creature was thirsty; the drinks had been poured;                                 
The tables had all been partially cleared 
In hopes that the food had all disappeared.

The children were seated on grey, folding chairs
While using their fingers to consume chocolate squares;
To Mamma in her kerchief said I, the old flirt, 
“Honey, now would you care for a second dessert?”

When arose such a noise from over by the basket
I thought that my Harley had just blown a gasket:
Away to the 3-point line I flew on a whim,
Tore open my eyelids… and looked toward the rim.

The light on the floor of the basketball court
Gave the luster of mid-day to that “gentle” church sport.
Then came to my wondering eyes a mirage:
A jolly man surrounded by his entourage.

The gent at the center was so rockin’ and jammin’
I knew in an instant it must be Bishop Salmon.
More rapid than coursers his posse they came,
And he chatted, very gently, and called them by name!

“Now Gustafson, Eric! Now, Henry and Walker!
Now Clerker, Hard Worker! Let’s not be a gawker!
To the front of the room! To the edge of the stage!
Now serve, teach the members!  We need to engage!”

As lake effect snow that flies down Happy Valley
When it meets with the Wasatch, does not dilly-dally,
So over to members in a flurry they flew, 
With a true yuletide message, and the bishopric too. 

And then, in a twinkling, the cultural hall
Seemed ready for Christmas for one and for all.
As I drew in my head and was turning about,
To the front stepped the bishop to speak words devout.

He was wearing some shoes that he’d strapped to his feet, 
And the rest of his outfit was modest and neat.
A couple of scriptures were propped in his arms,
And his words seemed to be all wrapped up in charms.

His eyes, how they twinkled!  His message a gem,
Of a birth long ago in old Bethlehem.
The smile on his mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the hair on his head was as white as the snow.

To say he smoked a pipe would be way out of line, 
For he’s a close follower of D & C 89.
Instead, on his mouth was a very broad smile
Measuring 1.6 kilometers, a Canadian mile. 

Angels singing in the manger he happened to mention, 
And in spite of ourselves, we all paid attention.
A wink of his eye and the gist of his word, 
Soon gave us to know it was love we had heard.

To every person he spoke he had something to say;
He filled all our hearts, helped put the chairs away,
Then setting his GPS to traverse the floor,
And giving a nod, he went out the door. 

He sprang to his sleigh, which was shaped like a Ford,
Or maybe Toyota, or Honda Accord;
He sprang to his sleigh, in the guise of some car, 
Or maybe he walked home, because it isn’t really that far.
But I heard him exclaim, before we parted ways:
Merry Christmas to all… in about 18 days.

                                                                                                            - Adaptation by Dick Hacken