“Christmas in the Pines”

c. 2019 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(12-19)

Trailer park life.

Living in a box-with-wheels has a social stigma handed down through the generations. One branded for all time upon those who have fallen to the state of such living conditions. Yet this level of existence may be viewed differently when considered from a 21st-century, ‘woke’ perspective. Here, the benefits are many. A reduced environmental footprint, recycling of items that might otherwise clog landfills, and a general living in harmony with natural surroundings. Rowdy trees that would irritate suburban dwellers provide a natural cover for prefab homes. Castaway wood and bricks offer hope of future remodeling projects. Old vehicles stay in service.

And the people endure.

During the holiday season, this lifestyle literally gleams like sunlight reflected from falling snow. While more upscale folk revel in glitz and artifice, there is a celebration of the human spirit among those in mobile homes. A robust dedication to giving thankful praise for the gift of life itself. To reusing what exists. To staying close with Mother Earth.

Undeniably, Greta Thunberg would be proud.

I pondered such things recently, on Christmas Eve. The result was a poem written with an app on my cellphone, while having coffee. A salute of sorts to living after retirement and a slide toward personal disability:

Christmas in the pines
I’m running out of time
My furnace quit
My life is spit
But no one seems to mind
I live my days on beer
‘Let it snow all day!’ I cheer
Every memory is sweet
Sure beats living on the street

Christmas in the pines
A pocket full of dimes
Counting change
For the holiday
Till Santa Claus arrives
I live my days on SPAM
And gravy from a can
My stove is broke and so am I
Drink a toast until I die

Christmas in the pines
Out by the county line
A sea of mud
Poor Uncle Spud
Drunk and feeling fine
Go walking with my cane
I’m thankful for the day
My dog is happy with his bone
I’ll never be alone

Christmas in the pines
Chills run up and down my spine
You Tube shows
The propane glows
Caroling with Boone’s Farm wine
My neighbors feeling good
In a home made out of plywood
We all survive on hope
Cause otherwise we’re bored and broke

Christmas in the pines
Crows sitting on the lines
Cratered streets
Propane heat
A festive Yuletide chime
I’ll celebrate with friends
Till the day comes to an end
Then lift a toast to New Year fun
And another trip around the sun 

Christmas in the pines 
Internet through the line 
Kitchen sink 
A drainpipe stink 
Soapy water, grit and grime 
The trailer scrubbed and spiffy clean 
For the holiday I have preened 
Wearing a football hoodie 
The Noel spirit lives in me 

Christmas in the pines 
A case of beer, twelve ninety-nine 
In God we trust 
Trucks run on rust 
Broken teeth, but feeling fine 
I’m stocked up on Doritos 
Neighbor says Donald is his hero 
No arguments today 
I’m in a mood to celebrate 

Christmas in the pines 
It’s a sign of the times 
Santa song 
Money gone 
Packages tied up with twine 
Under the evergreen 
Gifts like I’ve never seen 
Wrap up empty boxes so 
St. Nick, we’re good to go 

Christmas in the pines 
Gray hues across the skyline 
Breakfast feast 
Roadkill meat 
Breaded up country-style and fried 
The TV set shows highlights 
Of winterland delights 
But here in east Ohio, friend 
I’m hanging by a thread 

Christmas in the pines 
The neighbors pay no mind 
Nobody cares 
If travelers stare 
We’re staying out of sight 
Blankets in the windows 
But the trailer park’s aglow 
Electric candles light the evening 
Voices lifted up to sing 

Christmas in the pines 
Got a pizza on my mind 
With Buffalo wings
And onion rings 
Dipped in ketchup made by Heinz 
Can’t keep this to myself today 
Want to dance and celebrate 
Candy canes and treats galore 
Dog gets what hits the floor 

Christmas in the pines 
Mashed spuds and roasted swine 
Look at us 
We’re generous 
Though nobody has a dime 
I’ll wish my neighbors good cheer
 And pass around cold, light beer 
Nuts and fudge and cinnamon buns 
Merry Christmas, everyone!

With Christmas Day close at hand, it would be easy to engage in fanciful thoughts of Santa Claus bringing treasures in his sleigh. But for this writer, a different notion has taken hold. A tilt toward gratitude and satisfaction. No greater gift can be imagined than the one contained here, in the form of prose printed on the page.

Another writing project complete.

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