The Technical Trouble Before Christmas
By Jamie Lynn Juniper
Like many other people, I enjoy Clement Clarke Moore’s* 1822 Poem Twas’ the Night Before Christmas and I decided, one day, to make my own version. If Oscar Wilde is correct that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness,” then I hope Mr. Moore would be flattered. Lol. I hope you enjoy!
Everyone was texting in their latest iPhones.
Then, the Wi-Fi stopped working, the home became quiet.
Oh no, not today, the whole family could riot!
I called the tech number and asked for some help.
They could send someone over; I was so happy I yelped!
The devices were lying near the Wi-Fi with care,
In the hopes that Tech support soon would be there.
Waiting for the computer squad to knock on the door.
And me with my apple air pods and dad holding the Roku,
Had just settled down for some green tea and tonkatsu.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I was unable to use my smart doorbell app to see what was the matter.
Past the Bose stereo, I flew like a spark,
Tripped over the dog and he started to bark.
Blinded my eyes as I looked up from my YouTube Channel.
When what to my curious mind did reveal,
But a Mercedes transit van missing a wheel.
With a frustrated young driver, who looked so dismayed,
Texting a mile per minute, probably asking for aid.
More rapid than neutrinos, his fingers they flew,
Like he was holding a joystick and knew just what to do:
Yes, this guy knew electronics, he was a console thrill-seeker;
I could imagine him fighting Hades, ghosts, skags and creepers.
Then, right up to the house front, triple A suddenly drives,
In a truck full of tools, this van rescuer has arrived.
Lost a tire? I’m sorry, that is definitely a shame.
So, I watched from afar, the Wi-Fi still down,
The TV still off, from the PlayStation- no sound.
The wheel was replaced in a very short while,
The computer tech was happy, he started to smile.
A case full of tools he placed into his sack,
Then he grabbed his computers- his Dell and his Mac.
He had done this before; I could tell he knew how.
He approached the front door and looked up at the screen,
He couldn’t be much older than a kid of eighteen.
A stylus pen, perched over his ear,
In his right hand he held a new Wi-Fi router- a Netgear.
He had a thin face and thick glasses with rims,
Short curly hair and thin upper limbs.
I opened the door, “I’m so glad that you’re here!”
“I see that you brought your tools and all of your gear.”
He came right in and started to fix,
He corrected the issue, using his large bag of tricks.
Now the Wi-Fi was blinking, the devices turned on,
The firestick was twinkling, now streaming Amazon.
The scanner, the PlayStation, and the Xbox came alive;
The Nintendo, the smart thermostat, and the kindle revived.
We thanked the young man, as he left towards his van,
With everything now normal, our festivities began.
He turned around, and with a smile so wide,
Said, “Have a wonderful day and to all a Merry Yuletide.”
*There is some controversy regarding as to the author of the poem. The family of Major Henry Livingston Jr. believed him to be the author. The story goes, however, that they were not able to supply proof to back up their claim.
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