History was my favorite subject in school, and I still love it today. We live in historical Arlington, VT, a small town with some famous residents such as Ethan Allen one of the Green Mountain Boys.
Some others include Seth Warner, Samuel Adams, Remember Baker, Thomas Chittenden, Dorothy Canfield Fisher, Norman Rockwell, and the newest famous resident Alec Baldwin.
I wrote about the history of Arlington, VT last year in a blog post titled “Puddle jumping through history.” You can read the blog post by clicking on the title if you are interested.
Last May the city of Troy, NY, where we are vendors at the Troy Farmers Market, HBO turned Troy into New York City in the 1880s. HBO was filming a new series called The Gilded Age. The transformation was incredible down to the most minor details.
I wrote about the transformation in a blog post titled “Hollywood on the Hudson.” The day I walked around the streets turned movie sets I was utterly alone except for one other person snapping photos and taking it all in like I was. It was very cool. You can read the blog post by clicking on the title.
Our vendor spot at the Troy Farmers Market is located on lower River Street. I knew there was a plaque on the building directly behind us; today I went over and read it.
It was where the poem ‘Twas the night before Christmas was first published. I love shit like this and grabbed my phone to take a picture.
I did some research on Dr. Clement C. Moore the author. The writer’s cousin sent the famous poem to The Troy Sentinel Newspaper anonymously. Dr. Moore wrote the poem in 1822, but it was published on December 23,1823.
The inspiration he got for the poem was while he was walking through the streets of NYC looking for gifts and a Christmas goose for charity. He saw a chubby round gentleman with both white hair and a beard. This is who prompted the poem.
This poem led to the story of the modern-day Santa Claus we know today. Rudolph came along later. LOL. Geez, that’s two Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer references this week from me!
Dr. Moore wrote the poem at Christmas time for his six children and had no idea it would be published, let alone become iconic. I am sure he didn’t imagine when writing the poem that would create the legend of Santa Claus.
After the poem was published, at first, Dr. Moore was embarrassed by the childish poem and felt it wasn’t something to be proud of since he was known as a highly educated man. He didn’t want people to know it was he who penned it.
However, after the publication, Dr. Clement Moore took credit for the famous poem when he saw people’s reactions and a new love for old St. Nick. The rest is history.
Troy, NY is a city rich in history, it is known as the home of Uncle Sam. A welcome sign tells you so as you drive along route 7 headed towards Vermont. It’s been there for the 33 years I’ve lived in VT.
I did some more research and looked up the history of Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam was a real person named Samuel Wilson who is buried at the Oakwood Cemetery in Troy. Here is a link about Uncle Sam if you want to know more about him. He was a remarkable man who eventually became the face of America.
So, on this severely windy and cold day at the farmers market which is located along the Hudson River, I became curious about the history of the building standing 20 feet behind us. It was an unexpected history lesson that I loved learning about.
I found out from the Poetry Foundation the poem was originally titled “A visit from St. Nicholas.” I never gave the poem a thought about where it came from, and now I know. “Hey, and if you don’t know now, you know.” A quote from Hamilton.
A Visit from St. Nicholas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her’ kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”