A Nordic Christmas Eve

(Joulu Pukki is the Finnish for name for Santa Claus)

The Lutfisk (Cod), dried-stiff when bought,

it certainly wasn’t freshly caught

soaked in lye for days on end,

then rinsed in water time & again,

simmered on stove that Christmas Eve,

it’s aroma so putrid it’s hard to conceive

it was meant for our dinner, if you can believe.

A very bland meal of potatoes and fish,

white sauce and horseradish completed the dish.

Ham was reserved for our meal the next day

Turkey, unknown for a Nordic buffet.

This gelatinous mass of Lutfisk was meant

to follow traditions dictated by Lent:

No meat be consumed before a Great Feast

to purify one’s soul or the body at least.

When dinner was over, then Pappa soon left

out in the rain to search for our guest.

Lea at window was told to spy

to see if Joulu Pukki was anywhere nigh.

Dark, empty streets through rain splattered glass

both at the front, as well as the back,

disappointment etched her face, alas.

Loud knocking was then heard at the door

announcing arrival of two men who wore

masks on their faces meant to disguise

their familiar features from small children’s eyes.

Asking so loudly if good children lived here

the two men were led to the tree that was near

where bundles, twine-wrapped, quickly appeared

as young sister, behind Mother’s skirts, shyly peered.

The candles on Jul tree were hastily lit,

small flickering flames that burned for a bit

adding their glow to this quaint Christmas scene

repeated in so many homes that very same Eve.

With the gifts all dispersed, the men quickly left

and Pappa returned looking confused and bereft.

He just hadn’t found the Pukki he’d sought,

but we showed him the gifts the two men had brought.

One of the men was the Pukki you see

who came with his helper who just happened to be

the same as our Pappa but all in disguise and

though hidden by mask, him I did recognize.

The Pukki himself was a man we knew well

Onni, his name but I didn’t tell

though I saw through the ruse of this Christmas surprise

and played my part in the game even though I was wise.

Not wanting to spoil the grown-ups’ delight

for the fun that they’d planned for this Christmas Eve night,

I dutifully sat on the old, masked man’s knee

and smiled quite shyly for the adults to see.

The year after that though, it’s quite plain to see

that I’d reached my limit of pretending to be

enthralled by the masquerade on that Christmas Eve

and couldn’t help showing I just didn’t believe.

To show my discomfort, I wrinkled my nose;

Enshrined in family album is that infamous pose.

By disclosing the story behind my wry face

I’m hoping I'm saved now from further disgrace.

Now as for that Lutfisk- should you have a yen,

You just may be tempted to taste it but then,

Unless your name’s Anders, Fredrik or Sven,

You’ll forswear from succumbing to that urge again!