Bargain Banter (and I'm Not Talking about Shopping)

Melinda Palacio           

All I Want for Christmas Is an End to the Fires!
Melinda and Santa Claus

Bargaining season came early, or late, depending on how you look at it. Usually the first of the year is the season for new year's resolutions and deals struck for self improvement. And, for some, this bargaining continues through lent or until I can forget that I even need self improvement, or until beach weather rolls around and it's time to think about fitting into two pieces of cloth for days spent on a tropical beach.

            When fire struck Santa Barbara and threatened our house in San Roque, I started praying like a football player in the Superbowl, hoping for that Hail Mary thrown with eyes closed to reach just the player to deliver a win for the Saints of New Orleans. The Thomas Fire broke out December 4 and burned Ventura and Santa Barbara counties for nearly a month and is now the worst fire in California's history. After two weeks of nonstop ash raining down on the town, I queued in line with small children to ask Santa for the best Christmas present that would benefit not only myself, but entire communities of children of all ages. I prayed to all saints and vowed to light a candle for Saint Barbara at St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans, where I awaited news about the fire.

Thank you Jesus! 

            My California neighborhood of San Roque had been under mandatory evacuation since the second week of the fire. I thought about all the possessions, including my old silver Chevy Camaro convertible, I had to be ready to give up to the fire from long distance Louisiana. When my friend, Susan, left her Mission Canyon home to evacuate at her son's house, she thought she was closing the door to her home for the last time.

            Steve, had perspective much quicker than I did, 'they're just things,' he said. True, they're just things.

            I am lucky and grateful for all that I have and every extra minute I breathe on this planet. When your mother dies young (mine at age 44), you feel like you are living on borrowed or extra time. Every minute is a gift and for that and the opportunity to share my art and words with the world, I am grateful. I am also besides myself happy that the fire is finally 90 percent contained and that my house and car survived. Thank you firefighters, thank you Santa Claus, thank you Jesus!

            I don't need a resolution to make 2018 better than last year (a change in the White House wouldn't hurt either, psst, Jesus, Santa Claus, Three Kings, anybody out there listening). I have a new book coming out in the new year and I have been given the gift that keeps on giving, music. Steve gave me a gorgeous guitar for my birthday last month and I've already learned several new songs. I think everyone should give the gift of music, even if you are a professed shower singer, like myself. Here's to being grateful for another minute, another day, another year. Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!
Go forth and make music!

My Letter to Santa, 2009

Michael Sedano

*Click here to listen to this letter to Santa

Dear Santa:

Seems like only yesterday I wrote you all I wanted was my two front teeth so I could with you merry chrithmath. And here we are today, several fake teeth and numerous fillings, but my two front teeth are all mine, so thanks for granting me that small wish.

Then there was that bit of trouble, remember? I saw Mommy kissing you underneath the mistletoe that night. How was I to know Daddy was wearing your suit? I got sent to my room, but I didn't shout, I didn't pout. I knew about that list you keep and check twice. I did not want a couple lumps of coal instead of that Red Ryder BB Gun. Thank you, I see fine with one eye. It's not your fault. And it got me out of the draft back in '68, so all in all, that was another good Christmas for me.

I don't know what Grandma did to piss you off, or maybe it was just the worst time of the year for such a journey, the ways deep and the weather sharp, the very dead of winter, and all of that. But getting run over by reindeer is a hard way to reaffirm one's belief in myths. Did I say that? I meant the true spirit of X-mas and, of course, your existence, Santa. I shall be glad of another sale.

Last year I asked for RAM and got a whole herd of Bo-Peep's sheep. I meant computer memory, Santa. So, now that I know you have a low tolerance for ambiguity, I am going to keep this short, sweet, and specific, OK?

First, all I want is a room somewhere. You know, far away from the cold night air? Make it a big room, and soundproofed because when all the faithful come joyful and triumphant, they make a lot of noise. And no figgy pudding, sheesh.

Second, please bring You Know Who a puppy. I saw a doggie in the window, one with a waggly tail. Tan cute; its ears were grown long and its tail cut short. But the price was astronomical, so that little dogie can just git along, that's its misfortune and none of my own. Heah!

And, wow, did you pull a fast one on me last year! I was all happy knowing yes, there is a Virginia. And Pennsylvania. And Ohio. And Montana, of all places. Yes, Virginia and the others, si se pudo. I thought then we'd finally laugh, eat well, and grow strong, that no one will send us to eat in the kitchen, or Iraq, or Afghanistan anymore. Boy, was I wrong. My third wish: please wise up that pendejo in the White House. War is not Peace. Bring the troops home now.

As I promised, I’m keeping this short and to the point. Here’s hoping all your wishes come true, too. As you say, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night."

P.S. Enjoy the mutton stew.