RI’s Second Annual Holiday Poem
Deck the Halls and Share the Bounty
Greetings friends in Litchfield County.
Hark to folks who hail from Dutchess,
And Columbians, as much as,
Those from Berkshire, self-possessed,
We share a land, for which we’re blessed.
Not just in this festive season,
But year ‘round, and with good reason.
We crash your parties to take a pic,
And chronicle your every tic.
It’s work that’s fun and sometimes hard,
Much like this bumbling greeting card.
Imagine living in a place,
That lacked the merry Stuart Chase?
Don’t reel in horror, we won’t fool ye,
He’s ours for good ‘cause his wife Julie,
Would not stand for any lark,
That took her from the splendid Clark.
Shakers quiver, though ought not fear,
Hancock’s safe under Ellen Spear.
Mother Ann would be astounded,
And her flock no less confounded,
To learn that morals stern and chaste
Don’t last; what does is their great taste.
To the thesps at Shakespeare, et al.
A standing ovation and a curtain call.
To Ms. Packer, still on board,
In wig and costume, wielding sword.
Now Tony Simotes counts the gold,
All’s well that ends well, as Will foretold.
To Ghent filmmaker James A. Shamus,
Another neighbor who’s world famous,
And the Taylors, Kim & James,
Permit us, please, to drop your names.
To Philip Roth and YoYo Ma,
You’re our idea of La De Da.
Give thanks to farmers Whippoorwill
And Kinderhook, who toil and till,
To Dom at Moon upon the Pond,
Of whom we are especially fond,
They sow and seed and do their chores
So we may be good locavores.
Merrymakers, raise your torches,
To N. Fitzpatrick, who owns Porches.
And, too, ye olde Red Lion Inn.
And don’t forget the chef at Fin,
The gang at Guido’s Marketplace,
And Gund who daily saves our Face.
Out with this year, ring in a newbie,
Hail Colin Stair and Glenda Ruby,
Joan K. Davidson and James T. Male,
Gary Shiro, Wasail! Wasail!
Hudson, never rinky dinky,
Is now Hip Central; thanks, Helsinki.
And don’t forget those two smart chums,
Who knew they’d get far more than crumbs,
If they ran for the prom’s Queen and King,
Then won by a landslide; but here’s the thing,
Elders on all sides, though some were dazed,
Behaved like adults, Ellen be praised!
Salisbury, Conn. lost its moor,
When the White Hart Inn locked its door.
Then came Falls Village’s brand new inn,
And S’s loss took on a new spin.
But things are great in most respects,
A once-empty store is now Peter Beck’s.
Rhinebeck proved itself the best,
At playing cards close to its chest.
When rude reporters nosed around,
Did Missner & Hastings stand their ground?
Now Laura at GiGi’s recalls the charms,
Of fat cats staying at the Beekman Arms.
If you crave a taste that’s dazzling,
Hasten to Francois Bizalion.
Cheers Chris Weld, master distiller,
Your Greylock Gin, what a thriller!
For cupcakes small as Christmas lights,
Hightail it up to Barrington Bites.
Regrets? Nah, nary a sorrow,
Nor, we suspect, has Gary di Mauro.
With luck twenty eleven could be the year,
When buyers finally conquer fear,
And trade their tiresome peruse,
For offers no one can refuse.
For whom doth toll the year-end bell?
Adios: Don’t ask; Don’t tell.
Rachel Maddow, take a bow,
She pressed the noble case; and how!
We’ll celebrate at Hudson Pride,
With Trixie Starr close by our side.
While we who sit and wait are vexed,
To see what Maddow takes on next.
With J. Gersten backstage once more,
Williamstown will surely roar.
There’s no stopping Kate Maguire,
She’ll set the Colonial back on fire.
Looking forward, we’re in heaven,
Primed and geared for 2011!
You stalwart friends and loyal readers,
Movers, shakers, opinion leaders,
To all you faithful, we now pray,
Log onto RI every day!