Geneva 2022

Date: 12/05/2022  

CHRISTMAS WISH LISTS

     December is a wonderful time of year. Jack Frost nips at noses making chestnuts roasting on open fires an essential form of warming cold and stressful hearts. I prefer a double of Christian Brothers Brandy flavoring my eggnog to make my season fuzzy and bright. To each their own. Bowl Games and NFL football dominates the TV screen every night and I find it a rewarding finish to bustling days. The docile tones of crooner Bing Crosby singing of a White Christmas sticks like sugar plums dancing in the head and is comforting as long as that White Christmas remains a dream.

     It is no secret the shopping trips to the mall can be tedious. Waiting in checkout lines invariably finds us behind a problem buyer. Ten minutes pass before the manager straightens the error and the line begins to move once again. His apology does little to ease the tension. This unnerving condition boils the blood and raises its pressure until we escape back to the mall and see a child sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what gifts to leave under the tree. But what do my wandering eyes do I see? A Munchkin (member of the Lollipop Guild) climb on Santa’s knee. I had to do a double take. At first, I thought it was Jerry Graves, but he was too tall. Besides, he did not have a bottle of beer in his hand.

    My mind entered a philosophical state. If this was Jerry, what would he ask St. Nick to bring him? Certainly not a dame, either live or blow up, he would not know what to do with one anymore. Those woopie days are history since he settled with a cool and wonderful wife who takes good care of him and gives him everything he needs. How about a ride in Santa’s sleigh? Nah! I have it on good authority he is afraid of heights. One step on a ladder is as high as he wants to go. Comings and goings are frequent with Mr. Graves who has been retired nearly this entire century. He will travel anywhere in this country as long as there is a bar, casino, or golf course close bye. Friends? He has a million of them. Jerry is a patriot to Clarence the Angel’s words when he told George Bailey, “Remember, no man is a failure who has friends.” Freedom, friends, and a good wife, our Little Buddy lives a man’s American Dream.

    I shook Jerry from my head. I was growing envious of that Little Guy. I asked myself what I wanted for Christmas? Yeah, right! If I sat on Santa’s lap the chair would collapse. Maybe one of his helpers, you know the kind, one dressed in a short red or green dress with an umbrella finish showing more leg than the lamp in the Christmas Story and exposing cleavage that would make Dolly Parton blush…Nah! That would not work. I would forget my Christmas list. Maybe one of Santa’s elves brings me a chair to sit next to the big guy like a court jester. Now I remember. I would ask that jolly old man to spread magic dust in an attempt to motivate some of the old timers to return to Geneva, Adrian Skunza, Jim Nogawick, Shannon Boothe, Mark Schmitt, Mike Yoli, Wally Maley, Ralph DiCarolis just to name a few. Lead them down the Candy Cane Lane to our Oz, the Geneva Clubhouse.

    Other wishes for Santa’s sleigh, get this, Tim Hughes wants a hippopotamus. Honest! I got it from a trustworthy source. Let’s see Santa put that on his sled. Talk about cruelty to animals, those poor reindeers will play hell getting that vehicle off the ground. We do not need to worry about forcing that gift down the chimney it will probably fall through the roof. Come to think of it, I remember dating someone as big as a hippo many years ago. She had more holes and crevasses than any girl I ever dated.

    Blaise Plageman wants a big ass, offshore racing boat. That is a lot of boat for a lot of man. Those things do not ride the water, they bounce and fly. Imagine looking out over Lake Erie next July and seeing Blaise soaring over the water waving at us with a beverage in hand wearing his speedos. Oh, my goodness.

    Tony McGuckin and Jerod Boling sent Santa letters asking for gifts that could get the fat man wearing a red suit a new outfit in stripes. Jelly wants a lot of weed. Jerod said he is looking for an endless supply of drugs from limitless. In today’s world, the way the border patrol works, Santa Claus has a better chance copping Taylor Swift tickets than smuggling drugs into this country on his sleigh. Cheech and Chong did a whole skit about Santa and his magic dust. Of course, if the goods are pure enough it may solve Tim’s hippopotamus request. Creedence Clearwater Revival sang; “Tambourines and elephants are playin in the band, Won’t you take a ride on the flying spoon? Dood-n-doo-doo.”

    Then there is Craig Marshall who wants to wake up every morning to a session of oral sex. Finally, somebody with a more effective devise than the old alarm clocks. I laughed at the idea until I learned Legend Fritz Ford had the same thought but with an added twist. He asks for a five-foot blonde with blue eyes and a flat head under his tree. It does not take Santa’s magic dust to figure her duties.

    A more reasonable wish that most all of us would accept is the million-dollar request by Jacob Davis. Although I have never toured Santa’s workshop at the North Pole, I have yet to see signs that one of his tools is a printing press. Wishes of this kind must be made to the Lottery Commission. Good luck with that.

    Over the years, I have made a yearly resolution to stay healthy, get wealthy, and grow wise. I gave up becoming wealthy at the turn of the century. Wise? I am forgetting more than I ever knew. I quit watching Jeopardy because it depressed me. Wise was a goal far beyond my reach. But I have been damn lucky health wise. A couple misfortunes the past three months have brought my attention to this reality. I extend my health wishes to not just me but all of Geneva’s faithful. I look forward to seeing all of you next July.

Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas and a cup of cheer.

The Commissioner