It was Christmas Eve long ago,
When all the roads were deep in snow,
That aunts and uncles said they wouldn't come
Because their cars couldn't run.
Our tree had been trimmed, the fires lit;
And Mother had set a table for twelve to sit.
There'd be just us for Christmas:
Dad and Mother, me and Sis.
When we four sat down to eat
There came a noise from up the street.
Mother thought it sounded strange.
Dad said it was a car with tire chains.
I rushed to the window in time to see
A big green sedan grinning back at me.
Grandpa's DeSoto had plowed through the snow,
Its headlights and foglights brightly aglow.
We tumbled outside to greet the car,
And Dad asked Grandpa how he'd driven so far.
Grandpa replied, "Old Man Winter has his tricks,
But they're no match for the DeSoto Powermaster Six!"
Relatives poured from all four doors:
Grandpa and Grandma with tins of smores,
Uncle George and Aunt Helen with cousin Jim,
Aunt Augusta and Uncle John with cousin Kim.
Gifts filled the trunk from lid to floor.
Up on the roof rack were dozens more.
We brought them all in for under the tree.
I rattled and poked the ones for me.
That Christmas Eve was our merriest ever,
Thanks to Grandpa's DeSoto that had beaten the weather.
May your Christmas be as mine was that night,
Happy, glad and beautifully bright.
--Dave Duricy
