TWAS THE MONTH before General Plan hearings, in Olde Gilroy,
Everyone was over at the Outlets, searching for the perfect toy.
Not a creature was stirring, not even the western harvest mouse,
Who worried about the plan to build thousands more house.
Don Gage’s spurs were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Perry Woodward would soon be mayor.
The commuters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of jams, of traffic, danced in their heads.
Tom Haglund had left, along with the chief building cheese,
And everyone settled in for the short reign of Ed Tewes.
Then out in the north farmlands there arose such a clatter,
Citizens ran to the Dispatch to see what was the matter.
The online pages and petitions blew up like a flash,
Sandie and Jenny upended plans of developers with cash.
The North Gilroy annexation deal had seemed like a go,
With new $750 donation limits and a sympathetic LAFCO.
Labor leader Cindy Chavez liked the jobs it would bring,
And for Johnny Khamis, the free market, that was his thing.
Cat Tucker voted no but said she might change her mind,
I want free lifetime health care, Linda Lezotte whined.
In the distance awaited the man known as St. Mick.
Wasserman whistled, and waited, as that was his shtick.
“Now Tucker! Now Bracco, and Roland, that’s Velasco.
On Terri, yes Aulman, and Leroe, hyphen Muñoz!
To the tightly squeezed porch! To the tall sound wall!
Who needs downtown when we have a big mall?
Sue Martin and Lee Butler said high density’s okay,
Jobs-housing imbalance could make us San Jose or L.A.
The chimneys are just decorative, too narrow for Mick,
Air management district said use gas, don’t burn stick.
Besides, the unreinforced masonry needs to be tested,
Liability’s too high, and the building owner was arrested.
A traffic app found the reindeer held up at 101 and Masten,
Waiting for the metered lights to let them go passing.
Caltrain, HOV lanes and high-speed rail promise a solution,
With the added benefit of reduced air pollution.
As dry rows of farm dirt before the garlicky winds blow,
When one meets with an obstacle, take Monterey and go.
If that’s backed up, cut over on Day Road to Santa Teresa,
Or Fitzgerald past the LJB stand selling cloves for pizza.
Amazon drones will deliver presents, Uber will replace DUIs,
And, yes, Santa will take a self-driving car rather than fly,
Organic farmers will no longer fertilize with reindeer poop,
And the wine trail will be a stop on Elon Musk’s hyperloop.
We’ll remember the hillsides that were green and merry!
The blossoming orchards of apricot, peach, prune and cherry!
Santa’s pipe smoke no longer encircles his head like a wreath,
Doctor orders, you know—and North Pole ordinance has teeth.
Santa turned around his sleigh and observed to his elves,
“Everyone’s working too hard, and thinking of themselves.
Enjoy your paradise while you can, my dear Gilroy friends,
I hope that the means will be justified by the ends.”
He exclaimed from up high, “Celebrate the holidays, don’t be sad!
Happy Christmas, Merry Kwanzaa, Feliz Navidad!”
Like Robert “The Ghost” Guerrero, there’ll be a good fight,
Our blessings are many. To all a good-night!
With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.
