Keeping the Past alive, One Story at a Time
Dec. 24, 2022

A Visit From St. Nicholas

A Visit From St. Nicholas

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In this short bonus episode I read Clement C Moore's famous Christmas poem.

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Transcript
WEBVTT

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Hi everyone.

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And welcome to a very special episode of forward into the past.

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I'm JC Your host and narrator.

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And I feel I owe you a small apology.

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You see, I've been sick with a lingering call that has done a number on my throat over the last two weeks.

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And has rendered me unable to finish the last two staves of a Christmas Carol.

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So unfortunately those will have to be completed sometime in the next year.

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But since my throat is currently holding out for the moment.

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I decided to offer my listeners a small piece of American history.

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The famous poem of visit from Saint Nicholas written by Clement Seymour way back in the early 18 hundreds.

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Now I say the early 18 hundreds, because well, the exact date has never been verified.

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The original poem was published anonymously in 1823 in the Troy New York Sentinel.

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And was reprinted several times for several years without author acknowledgement.

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And as I've mentioned before in earlier podcasts, It was quite customary for other news and story papers to quote unquote, borrow.

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Writings from each other.

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And this was how stories and poems became widely known.

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And this poem was no exception.

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It took off like wildfire being published every holiday season for many years.

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In 1837.

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The poem was finally first attributed to professor Moore and he claimed authorship himself in a book of poetry that he printed in 1844.

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By then, however, several other authors also claimed that they had written the by then famous poem, including the Troy Sentinel itself.

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And although professor Moore has been attributed as the original author for many years.

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Recently, this claim has been disputed by several scholars.

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But as of this moment, it has never been proven.

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So it is to Clement more that this poem is currently attributed to.

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And I humbly present now.

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A visit from Saint Nicholas.

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Written by Clement C Moore.

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T'was the night before Christmas when all through the house.

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Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

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The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St.

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Nicholas soon would be there.

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The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.

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And mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

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When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter.

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I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

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Away to the window.

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I flew like a flash tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

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The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the luster of midday to objects below.

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When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

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With a little old driver, so lively and quick.

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I knew in a moment, it must be St.

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Nick.

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More rapid than Eagles, his coursers they came.

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And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

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Now Dasher, now dancer, now Prancer and Vixen.

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On comet on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall.

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Now dash away, dash away, dash away all.

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As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle Mount to the sky.

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So up to the house, top the courses they flew with a sleigh full of toys and St.

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Nicholas too.

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And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof.

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The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

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As I drew in my head and was turning around.

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Down the chimney St.

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Nicholas came with a bound.

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He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot.

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And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

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A bundle of toys.

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He had flung on his back and he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack, his eyes, how they twinkled his dimples, how Merry.

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His cheeks were like roses his nose, like a cherry.

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Is droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

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The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth and the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

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He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.

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He was chubby and plump.

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A right.

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Jolly old elf.

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And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.

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A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

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He spoke, not a word, but went straight to his work and filled all the stockings.

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Then turned with a jerk.

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And laying his finger aside of his nose and giving a nod up the chimney he rose.

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He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

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But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight.

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Happy Christmas to All, and to All A good night.

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Oh, ho ho ho!, well friends.

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That concludes this season.

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I am so honored that you joined me on this journey.

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I honestly never believed that I would be hosting a fairly well-received podcast a year ago, but here we are.

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And I do mean we, because I could never have done this without any of you.

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Thank you for just being you.

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A very special shout out.

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However, it goes to my wife.

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My partner, my everything.

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Caroline.

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You've put up with my shenanigans and half simmered ideas for 20 years now.

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I am glad that when I approached you earlier this year with my idea for launching this podcast, You simply said.

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Yes, you should.

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And left it at that.

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You have helped make me the person that I am today.

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And for that.

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I am eternally grateful.

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Well, as always folks.

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I feel like I've rambled long enough.

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May the season of light be gentle for you wherever you call home.

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May you find health?

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Happiness and love always.

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And as always my friends.

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Thanks for listening.

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Keep sharing the stories and be a good human.

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Bye for now.