Nearly two hundred years ago a poem was published that impacted my life more than any poem ever written. Each December, for the first nine years of my life, I looked forward in childlike wonder to a visit from a jolly old man/elf with the ability to bring me things I wanted; things he and his workers had made, and stamped with the brand names of major manufacturers; things that he was able to transport from the polar regions of the planet via a flying sleigh, pulled by flying reindeer; a sleigh that also carried gifts requested by every boy and girl on the planet; delivered in one magical night. He entered my house through the chimney of the fireplace. The fact that I lived in a house with no fireplace or chimney did not prevent him from doing so. I left him milk and a Mr. Goodbar on the kitchen table, and he never failed to eat and drink my offering of gratitude. I would see him at malls, and on street corners throughout the month of December. The fact that he should be busy making pr