Mark Goodwin - Deceased 1950 - 2016
November 29, 1950 - January 16, 2016
'Twas A PCS Christmas”
On December 23, 1998, Dean Puckett wrote and posted this on the message board. It didn't make
an appearance every year, so I thought I'd revive it for this year. Dean did a great job of capturing
all of our Christmas fantasies!
Here we go. . . .
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the home, not a stiff was stirring, not even a
moan.
The body bags were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that the mortician soon would be
there.
The corpses were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of --well, nothing!-- danced in their
heads.
And ma in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled down for a long winter's nap. When out
on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my casket to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash; tore open the swags and threw up the sash. The moon on
the breast of new-fallen snow gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature hearse and eight tiny reindeer!
With a little old driver so wrinkled and gray, I knew in a moment this was a kick-ass sleigh!
More rapid than Criterions his coursers they came, and he honked and blew his sirens and called
them by name: "Now Miller, now Meteor, now Eureka and S&S, on Cotner, on Bevington, on
Superior and Hess, to the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the
sky. So up to the house top the coursers they flew, with a hearse full of bodies and a casket or
two.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the screeching of "rough riding, poor handling, but
PCS correct belted tires."
As I drew in my hand and was turning around, down the chimney it came with a bound. It was all
dressed from bumper to grill . . . a '59 Crown Royale, my heart stood still!
I rushed around the side and flung open the back. My eyes couldn't believe this big, black
Cadillac!
Her chrome, how it twinkled, her interior how merry. With nine coats of wax, this coach was
cherry!
Its hood was garnished with a big red bow. The gift of a lifetime, how could this be so? A car a
mile long and a grill full of teeth, and smoke from the tailpipe encircled like a wreath.
The little old man all decked in black, tossed me the keys and turned his back. A wink of his eye
and a twist of his head, let me know I wasn't dreaming and surely not dead!
And laying his finger aside of his nose, he gave me a nod, and up the chimney he rose. He sprang
to his hearse and to his fleet gave a wave; and away they all flew like a Lifeliner ablaze.
But I heard his exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all! And to all, a good night!"
My brother, Tom and I wish all of you a Christmas filled with family, friends, love, peace and
joy. For those of us traveling, may our journeys be safe. And may that little box under the tree
contain the keys to your dream!
Happy New Year 2011
On December 23, 1998, Dean Puckett wrote and posted this on the message board. It didn't make
an appearance every year, so I thought I'd revive it for this year. Dean did a great job of capturing
all of our Christmas fantasies!
Here we go. . . .
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the home, not a stiff was stirring, not even a
moan.
The body bags were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that the mortician soon would be
there.
The corpses were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of --well, nothing!-- danced in their
heads.
And ma in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled down for a long winter's nap. When out
on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my casket to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash; tore open the swags and threw up the sash. The moon on
the breast of new-fallen snow gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature hearse and eight tiny reindeer!
With a little old driver so wrinkled and gray, I knew in a moment this was a kick-ass sleigh!
More rapid than Criterions his coursers they came, and he honked and blew his sirens and called
them by name: "Now Miller, now Meteor, now Eureka and S&S, on Cotner, on Bevington, on
Superior and Hess, to the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the
sky. So up to the house top the coursers they flew, with a hearse full of bodies and a casket or
two.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the screeching of "rough riding, poor handling, but
PCS correct belted tires."
As I drew in my hand and was turning around, down the chimney it came with a bound. It was all
dressed from bumper to grill . . . a '59 Crown Royale, my heart stood still!
I rushed around the side and flung open the back. My eyes couldn't believe this big, black
Cadillac!
Her chrome, how it twinkled, her interior how merry. With nine coats of wax, this coach was
cherry!
Its hood was garnished with a big red bow. The gift of a lifetime, how could this be so? A car a
mile long and a grill full of teeth, and smoke from the tailpipe encircled like a wreath.
The little old man all decked in black, tossed me the keys and turned his back. A wink of his eye
and a twist of his head, let me know I wasn't dreaming and surely not dead!
And laying his finger aside of his nose, he gave me a nod, and up the chimney he rose. He sprang
to his hearse and to his fleet gave a wave; and away they all flew like a Lifeliner ablaze.
But I heard his exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all! And to all, a good night!"
My brother, Tom and I wish all of you a Christmas filled with family, friends, love, peace and
joy. For those of us traveling, may our journeys be safe. And may that little box under the tree
contain the keys to your dream!
Happy New Year 2011
