The Grinch is Gone!

Somebody stole The Grinch from Candy Cane Lane! What a vile and horrid thing to do. Whoever stole The Grinch and thus robbed us all and not just the Whos of Whoville must have a heart so teeny tiny as to be even tinier than the Grinch’s. Hey Dude, yeah, you, you and your giggling, drunken, lamebrain buddies with cigarettes dipped in stale Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, hey, do y’all need suspenders to hold up your hearts or what?

Candy Cane Lane is Heaven in Seattle for Christmas lovers. It’s a small crescent shaped block of classic brick and wood homes from bygone “Grandma and Grandpa Days” carved out of a hillside in the woodsy Ravenna neighborhood of North Seattle. And a huge, big cutout of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas was stolen a couple of days ago. Cindy Lou Who and Max the One-Horned Doggiedeer Reindeer were left stranded and sad.

What will happened to Christmas without The Grinch? What will Santa do? And all those poor Whos way off in Whoville? What about all the good people of Candy Cane Lane right here in Seattle?

We didn’t notice the theft at first. A few hours ago this past Wednesday night of the 14th of December, I drove off for a jaunty stroll through Candy Cane Lane with my middle daughter Kate the Great. Her buddy Allie, who lives nearby with only one light in each window, joined us wrapped in an old, red blanket. We tromped up and down the crooked sidewalks of the neighborhood.

Yes, there were neighborhoods with more cosmic arrays of UFO decorations and such, and mansions with more per castle than all of Candy Cane Lane, and even low, slinky trailer homes sagging under a ton of lights and inflatable Bible scenes and Frosty North Pole scenes and even some leftover Halloween. None of them, however, capture the essence of a mythical, legendary Norman Rockwell White Christmas fantasy as well as Candy Cane lane does, even without snow. Candy Cane Lane is magickal. Even in the rain. And especially without any rain, as we enjoyed a recent dry period.

As we rounded the swerve of street circling the roundabout, I noticed Max with his uni-antler looking mighty forlorn. And there stood Cindy Lou Who with tears as big as…as…as Christmas tree balls! Something was missing, something big and huge and mean like a dragon and just as green.

“Hey, look!” I shouted. “The Grinch! The Grinch is gone!”

“Yeah,” grumbled Allie. “He was stolen about two days ago.”

“What?” exclaimed Kate. “Someone stole The Grinch? How stupid is that?”

I stood there feeling perturbed and flummoxed.

I really missed that Grinch.

See, I have my very own love-hate-love relationship with … uh, Christmas. I love it, and I hate it, and I love it. Revelations of my quarrelsome romance with Christmas will have to wait till later, though.

Somebody, likely with some help, stole a huge wooden cutout of an ugly trollish brute painted radioactive lime-green. What are they going to do with it? Block the hallways of their frathouse with it to impress drunken gigglebrains in skirts? Dudes with their baseball caps turned sideways who get up a hoe handle after hearing a certain caliber of post-high school beauties shriek?

Maybe I shouldn’t write such things. Cuz maybe it was a gaggle of blazing grannies out to tat their jobless husbands to it. Ah, I really shouldn’t write such babble. It echoes the horror of domestic violence in America. So many homes are battlegrounds of civil war. Oops, uncivil war. The kind that breeds terrorist whose high jinks have deteriorated to stealing lawn decorations.

My daughter and her friend squealed and giggled and whispered all the way back to the car. They couldn’t possibly end up behaving just like those buffoons I describe earlier, wouldn’t they? Oh, just going through phases, eh?

Grinch. Jolly Green Grinch. I want the Jolly Green Grinch back in Candy Cane Lane. Every year as Earth passes through this Solstice Time on its elliptical orbit around the Sun, the Grinch springs into action. Every year, all over again, as his buddy Ebenezer Scrooge over in London, the Grinch must redeem himself and in doing so his heart-several-sizes-too-small expands joyfully in all directions.

Come on, you thieves! You all are no Robin Hoods. Bring back the Grinch and return him to Candy Cane Lane.

 

William Dudley Bass
Seattle, Washington
18 December 2011

 

Copyright © 2011, 2016 by William Dudley Bass. All Rights Reserved until we Humans establish Wise Stewardship of and for our Earth and Solarian Commons. Thank you.

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  1. Pingback: William’s Marathon Bloggieroo Wreck | Tuesdays with Deborah

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