The official sound of a New Mexico Christmas and my Aero-Cordero gift to you…

It happens every year right before Christmas. A frantic search for votive candles and the right size paper lunch bags. I start looking for candles in July every year, knowing that the shelves where they can usually be found are stripped bare by the 15th of December.

And while paper bags are not quite as difficult to find, I still find myself making mental notes of where I can find the best ones — not too large and not too small. And most importantly, quality that makes it wasy to fold them.

In our home, while I watch football games and my wife bakes multiple varieties of cookies, I am in charge of folding the tops on our luminaria bags that we put out every Christmas eve. The folding operation, as I’m sure many of you know, is a somewhat delicate procedure. The bags rip easily and you have to train your thumbs to turn down the top of the bag just so in order to have the perfect amount of fold at the top.

But what I have noticed this year is the annoying sound of the folding process that makes it difficult to hear what’s happening in the football game you’re watching or my wife’s attempts at conversation while she is baking.

New Mexico has an official state question (red or green), an official state odor (roasting green chile), an official necktie (bolo), official vegetables (chile and pinto beans) and other nonsensical officialities. So why not an official sound of a New Mexico Christmas — the crunching, crinkling sound of folding luminaria bags.

Okay, that’s a stretch, so I’ll end my Christmas musings with you by sharing my version of a New Mexico Night Before Christmas and hope you readers have a wonderful holiday season.

T’was the night before Christmas in New Mexico

And everywhere luminarias were starting to glow.

The stockings were hung by the horno with care

In hopes that Pancho Claus soon would be there.

Outside on the porch, ristras swayed in the breeze

And as the sun dipped down, it was starting to freeze

Los ninos were dreaming, all warm in their beds

And swung at pinatas that danced in their heads

Mamma and Chester were snoozing away

In a bed that left me no room to lay

So I sat in a chair watching the pinon fire die

When I heard a strange noise coming down from the sky

I ran to the back door to look out on the lawn

Which was soft and white from a snowfall at dawn

We don’t get much snow in the desert, you see

So the view outside was exciting to me.

Then suddenly I spotted something that was even more to behold

It was pack of coyotes with a wooden cart in tow

In front of the coyotes with a beak that was red

Was Rudy the roadrunner, who was always ahead

And driving the cart was a fat jolly man

Wearing a sombrero and a waving his hand

It was Pancho Clause, of that I was sure

And he called to his coyotes as they ran in a blur

“Now Pedro, now Carlos, Jose and Miguel,

On Cisco, Jesus, Juan and Manuel

Over the mesquite bush, don’t linger and stall

Through cactus and sand dunes, now dash away all”

So up on my casa the coyotes flew

With a cart full of toys and Pancho Claus too

And a noise from above gave me a start

Coyotes howling as he stepped off his cart

He slid down the chimney with his bag full of toys

And began his work without any noise.

He wore a pony tail at the back of his head

And his velvet Navajo shirt was a cheery red

His shirt was laced up with fine goatskin leather

And his face was rugged from the Southwestern weather

His eyes were like turquoise, his dimples so sweet

His nose and his cheeks were like red chile heat

The steam from from a pot of posole in la cocina

Formed a shape over his head that looked like a Zia

He was a true Land of Enchantment elf

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself

But seeing his smile, I knew I had nothing to dread

Knowing that soon I would be back in my bed

He said “Ya-ta-hey” to me as he started to work

Filling up the stockings, then turned with a jerk

He’d noticed biscochitos we’d left him for a snack

And stuffed a few of them for later in his pack

Then before I could blink, back up the chimney he went

Leaving only the smell of a sweet pinon scent

He sprang into his cart, gave his coyotes a shout

And was gone just like that, to the next hacienda, no doubt

But I heard him call as his cart flew away

“Feliz Navidad, In New Mexico we say.”