Christmas Poem Courtesy Detroit Free Press

John S. Lagnese jlagnese at
Sun Dec 25 19:08:29 EST 2005

Good one!
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From: "Ingo Rautenberg" <irautenberg at>
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Sent: Sunday, December 25, 2005 3:29 PM
Subject: NAC: Christmas Poem Courtesy Detroit Free Press

Lest some of you think the people of Michigan have lost our holiday spirit:

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the state

Folks were on edge because the news wasn't great.

The factories were quiet, a sign that was telling.

The vehicles they made were simply not selling.

The competition was fierce in the global car market.

GM had more inventory than places to park it.

Fords were lined up at their dealers with care

In hope that some customers soon would be there.

DaimlerChrysler, at least, was holding its own

With discounts, incentives and interest-free loans.

But the days were long past when in every garage

Was a Buick, a Focus or a Caravan from Dodge.

Stockholders were howling as profits fell short

And suppliers were forced into bankruptcy court.

Workers were watching their jobs disappear

And not feeling much like celebration this year.

Now into this darkness came a streak of bright light

Moving south from Up North on this Christmas Eve night.

With the speed of a rocket, it shot past the Soo,

Cleared the Mackinac Bridge and then Charlevoix, too.

'Twas a red-colored sled and 'twas in overdrive

As it soared above traffic on I-75.

O'er Grayling it swooped so close to the trees

That the emerald ash borers could feel the breeze.

The funny thing was that while moving so fast

It made nary a sound on the ground that it passed.

And in the crisp nighttime air it was certainly not lost

That this thing was leaving no trail of exhaust.

It passed o'er Frankenmuth just as quick as the dickens,

Not even so loud as to waken the chickens.

Whatever the source, its power was clean.

The sled was all red but the concept was green.

Near the Hills of Auburn, engineers working late

Had forgotten, of course, the Christmas Eve date

Until they looked up from their screens to gaze at the sky

And saw this red-sledded stranger go racing on by.

"On Dasher, on Dancer, On Cupid and Vixen,"

He said as he swooped 'tween the towers of the RenCen.

In the brightness of light from the big GM sign

You could see the sled pulled by eight reindeer in line.

In Dearborn he looped 'round the house made of glass,

And over the plant with the roof growing grass.

Anyone who saw him was at a loss to explain

How he was so quick and so quiet and yet burned no octane.

What pumped up those reindeer? What was making them go?

Could the formula work for the cars down below?

Even William Clay Ford, old Henry's great grandkid,

Could only make guesses about some new kind of hybrid.

Well the man with the reins had no time to pause

To explain how he seemed to defy all the laws

By speeding and flying and yet making no sound

As he dipped house to house on his overnight rounds.

But of course you must know that each place on his route

The kids who believed left snacks and treats out.

'Twas more cookies and milk than he could consume

But those eight hefty reindeer always had room.

Seemed there was magic in the stuff on those plates

The reindeer, quite simply, were flying on faith.

So that's how he did it, beat the Christmas Eve odds

To deliver all those sweaters, TVs and iPods.

It is truly amazing all the things you can do

When you know so many people are counting on you.

So the lesson this Christmas that Santa would leave

Is that for plans to take flight, you have to believe.

And as he flew out of Michigan he shouted out with good cheer

"Work hard, keep the faith. It'll be better next year!"

With best wishes for the holidays and the New Year to Free Press readers 

Ron Dzwonkowski

Editorial Page Editor
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