‘Twas ten days before Christmas, and all throughout Langley, politicians’ nerves were all frazzled and jangly.
Though an election was still near a whole year in coming, wedge issues and strategies had their little brains humming.
Content civil servants were splitting their hairs, lining up behind councillors and wannabe mayors.
Is it pigs at the trough? Or bees making honey? When a councillor offers her service for money?
Debaters debate whether rules should be stricter… or not strict enough for Councillor Richter.
Her hat in the mayor’s race might not look like folly, if she can succeed in her case against Quaale.
But it’s still a long time from now till November, and there’s still a Fox in the hen house, remember.
There’s a lot that can happen betwixt now and next fall; the longer the run, the harder the haul.
Still the old guard is quaking, the fort’s under attack, the community is wondering if Froese will be back.
Add unwelcomed plans for the woods by the brook, and all the old council could have a new look.
A lot will depend on the mood in the grove… the alder, the walnut: all votes in the trove.
Off in the city, it’s all smiles with sad faces, as beloved old Schaffer steps out of the traces.
His gift of departure seems to make no one glad… but you can bet in the backrooms they see gains to be had.
Like the tides, politics will wait for no man – or no woman – and the Yuletide be damned.
For greater than Christmas is the sound of the voice of a local contender for your saviour of choice.
But we’ve all had enough, can’t they wait till next year? For now let the rancour be buried in cheer.
For the next couple of weeks we’d like peace and civility, and though it’s a great deal to ask, just a bit of humility.
Take politics at all levels out of this season, and ease the cold nights with the warmth of our reason.
If you like Merry Christmas, then “Merry Christmas!” I say.
Or if you prefer it, then “Happy Holiday!”
It’s not words, but the joy that we offer each other: today, everyone is our sister or brother.