'Twas before dawn after Christmas, when all through the town
The Valley Sun was delivered from Knight Way on down.
Dr. Joe’s column was printed above mine with care,
in hopes that a Pulitzer soon would be there.
The mayor was nestled all snug in her bed,
with visions of general plan housing elements that danced in her head.
The city council was scattered but still were on tap,
In case they were needed — our elected officials don't nap.
When out on Foothill Boulevard there arose such a clatter,
The planning commission arrived to see what was the matter.
It was way up the ’Crest — peacocks flew like a flash,
cawing and clattering like a peacock-filled rash,
The moon on the breast of the fresh-painted bike lane
gave the luster of midday to all but the insane
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a bucket of meatballs and one giant bear.
And a little old store manager, wearing a rose,
I knew in a moment that the LCF Vons had closed
More rapid than eagles, the Chamber of Commerce came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“Now Apple Cart! Now Goodie Girls!
Now, Flintridge Proper!
We need cocktails with gin
For the after-Christmas shopper!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!”
Then Kate Hansen down Foothill in her luge she did fly
when she met with an obstacle, she would mount to the sky
so Min’s and Berge’s past them she flew,
Past Anthony’s, Taylor’s, the Dish and Sakura too.
And then, in a twinkling, I saw in our paper
a complete recounting of each little caper.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down Foothill our Tournament of Roses float came with a bound.
It was to be dressed in flowers, from its head to its foot,
and looked just like a Dog (Dog Gone!) — it was kind of cute.
With volunteers pasting roses all over its back,
From the Flintridge Prep parking lot, they were on the attack.
Then Jose Verdugo arose, he sprang from his grave,
Awakened from sleep the float he would save,
He called for the dog float with his ghostly dog whistle
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Day After Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
ANITA SUSAN BRENNER is a longtime La Cañada Flintridge resident and an attorney with Law Offices of Torres and Brenner in Pasadena. Email her at email@example.com and follow her on Twitter @anitabrenner.