By Mike Williscraft
(With apologies to Clement C Moore…)
‘Twas the night before council, when all through town hall,
Not a creature was stirring, shocked, after getting the call;
Council were settled all snug in their chairs,
While citizens filed in, mostly in pairs;
And mayor in his chain of office this formal affair,
Residents were ready, their concerns to air;
When out on the lawn arose such a noise,
The group ran to the window, losing all poise;
Away to the glass they ran right away,
To find a team with its driver on the ground he was splayed;
The moon on the breast of ground below,
Showed the problem apparent, no parking to show;
When, what to my wondering eyes did I see,
But a bylaw officer ticket the sleigh with a look of glee;
And in a quick moment, so lively and quick,
The old driver, he spotted protesters, they were a little thick;
More rapid they came to hound St. Nick’s ride,
Because he enslaved non-humans for his sleigh to guide;
He loved them like children, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen,
Even Comet and Cupid and Donner and Steve;
As the dry leaves that that blow down the street each fall,
St. Nick knew they’d be there, they had a lot of gall;
So back to the sleigh, to house top they flew,
Just to get away from the protesters few;
And then in a twinkling, St. Nick came with a bound,
It was time to lecture council, on their direction he frowned;
When a councillor talks lawsuit to a defeated foe on his lawn,
Where’s the common sense, just what’s going on?
He was dressed all in fur…a whole other social media buzz,
And his clothes were all tarnished, the night’s ride because;
A bundle of items, he carried with him,
He looked serious this time, not just here on a whim;
His eyes how they pierced, his brow it was furrowed,
Council – concerned – under their desks they wanted to burrow;
Removing his pipe, he let loose with a rant,
“My non-humans work like a team, but you can’t!”
“You were put here for the right reasons, now get a move on,
Your closed session should not be running ‘til dawn”
He was chubby and plump, an angry old elf,
Council knew he was right, time to put pride on the shelf;
He spoke not another word, but his stare said enough,
The pettiness of some was too much, this was no bluff;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team he did shout,
But he circled around, one last nugget to flout,
“Get your act together guys, including new staff,
Or in ‘22 voters will be separating he wheat from the chaff.”
* * * * * *
I kid, because I love.
No, not council, the community, silly.
Grimsby, Lincoln and West Lincoln are like my kids. I love them all equally, but the hell raiser gets the attention.
Lincoln has been the golden child of late, but this tourism direction they are taking is a head-scratcher to me. I understand it, to some degree, but when municipalities are going to great lengths to divest themselves of costly overhead, Lincoln is taking on a major file in tourism development which had always been done at the regional level – at least since I arrived in 1995.
Now, the Region has been in disarray in this area since NETCorp was dissolved, but for Lincoln to dissolve the Twenty Valley Tourism Association – a private, member-driven organization – and absorb it into a new tourism marketing organization paid for by the taxpayers is akin to a salmon swimming upstream.
Sure, that salmon may get where it’s going, but that would be the last route – and a route that encompasses St. Catharines in Niagara West no less – which was recommended.
We’ll watch how that initiative develops.
West Lincoln, just keep doing your thing.
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