A new Christmas Hero - Bartleby Duck!

There's a tradition started by my buddy, Dave. One evening, he came over and stated he'd seen a new kind of Christmas display... it centered on... a Christmas Duck. Now, I was very aware of the value of a Christmas Goose - like the one Scrooge calls for in the morning after his 'transition' from miser to philanthropist - but I'd never heard of a Christmas DUCK. So, I piled my family into the van, and along with Dave, we went driving around that cold, snowy night, seeking out this display to satisfy my curiosity and let Dave show us this wonder.

We have yet to find it.

Five years now, we've looked. But when I went here that first year, I penned this story. It is in the poetic form similar to "Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer", but is a cautionary tale that befits the modern era, I think. If you like it, share it, but remember, YOU READ IT HERE FIRST>...

The Ballad of Bartleby

Let me tell you a story, that’s already quite old.

Remember the duck that laid eggs of pure gold?

This duck has been lost in the annals of time,

but we’ll find him together ‘twixt the lines of this rhyme.

You’ve heard all the stories of Santa and Elves,

Of Frosty and Rudolf; all good eggs themselves.

These stories ring true in our heart of hearts.

But recalling such stories has become a lost art.

This season already has doves, swans, and chickens,

six geese a-laying, a partridge, and Dickens

But one bird forgotten, brought up in retort,

is my very good friend, the Duck, Bartleby Bort.

Perhaps you heard that it was a Goose.

But that is inflation, it is rendering loose.

It can’t be a goose, and don’t be obtuse.

A Goose Egg means zero in vernacular use.

Maybe it confuses a boy duck lays eggs,

But in to day's world, the questions it begs

Wonder if Buck is a sister or brother

Don't ask it of me; go ask your mother.

Bartleby Bort is the name of this Duck.

His folks called him Bertie, but that never stuck.

He didn’t like Daisy or Daffy, or Chuck.

For privacy’s sake, we will call him Buck.

The way Santa’s great voyage brought joy to the kids

For adults, the Duck’s gold donations sure did

Santa Claus placed gifts without much ado

 while Buck did his business and left an “Egg,” too.

The nearness between those who had or had not,

 was closer than now – most had quite a lot.

Unless a whole year ended in losses,

a Bonus lightened the season from Bosses.

In those days the Bosses measured their team,

by loyalty, happiness, and self-esteem

They prized the value of genuine worth

of good times, good sales, and employee mirth

So, Grownups all waited with tense, hopeful looks,

While their employers wrapped up the “end of the books.”

To suss out the values of that year’s accounting

Would there be a bonus? The tension was mounting.

Bartleby’s gifts thus would fill in the gap.

The holiday cheer would fall in their lap.

They followed Santa on each Holiday flight,

and they left their gifts on that very same night

 For good Moms and Dads who slept the night through,

Along with all single folks through whose space he flew.

Now St. Nick, we know, has great navigation.

 So, in most years, Buck followed with no variation.

We remember the tales of Saint Nick’s noble flights.

How children responded with squeals of delight.

It may seem that holidays bring their brightness,

but someone still pays for all that lightness.

This pattern worked until the Economy fell.

Perhaps you remember – I remember it well.

Everyone worked hard, and everyone slaved.

Remember that storm? That Rudolf’s nose saved?

Now gifts under trees and tucked into socks

came from makers and builders, warehouses, and docks

Elves may have made them - they outsourced the Trucks.

Now back to the story. The one about Ducks

Rudolf led Santa by his shining nose,

but the high winds, the dark skies, and blizzardly blows

Were too much for Bartleby Buttle to fly.

No bonuses or gold eggs and no one knew why.

The storm was so bad that Santa forgot about Buck.

By the end of that week, none remembered the Duck.

No Golden Eggs for grownups that Christmas he brought,

 the shiny, blest Christmas season was NOT.

When Holidays come quickly, as often they will,

what comes after that, are always the Bills.

They arrive promptly and damper the Spirit.

Grownups avoid them. They don’t want to hear it.

The Companies learned ‘no bonus’ saved dough.

Workers weren’t as happy as they had been, though

their spirits were dimmed, along with the season;

diminished, and clearly, Buck was the reason.

So, when they approached, despite their great will,

all the Grownups saw coming was another big bill.

Bills are unwanted, avoided, ignored.

reviled and rejected, despised and deplored.

But they must be paid, those bills that come due.

That money comes from your parents for you.

They turned them away as no glow from them came.

The light of the season they could no longer claim.

 But companies change, and so do the times.

The Value of Buck can return through this rhyme.

Drive through your cities. Walk through your towns.

You can find places with all their lights down.

Could you tell them about the lost Christmas Buck?

Could you remind them about the gold-laying duck?

Could you turn up the Christmas Lights if you can?

Will you build new places for Bartleby to land?

Santa’s next mission might be in a fog.

The weather might not be fit for a dog.

but landing strips, beacons, and great Christmas lights

can guide any Duck to safe and swift flight.

The key to this tale told of the duck,

Is that every house may be a stop for old Buck.

So, before the next storm of the Economy blows,

“Seasons’ Greetings for all,” as everyone knows.

-         By Jonathan Albin, Storyteller