A Christmas Eve Tradition

My dad used to read ‘‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” every Christmas Eve when I was a kid, after dinner and before we opened our Christmas pjs. 

 

So many of you are missing your dads, or grandparents, or the father of your kids. This year, I asked my dad to record the Christmas Eve classic for the show. I wanted you to have a stand-in grandpa, in case you were missing one of your own. 

 

From my family to yours, may you have the best holiday season available to you. 

 

(‘Twas the Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore was first published in 1823)

 

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
This is here after, and I'm your host, Megan Divine.
This week a very special bonus episode, one that I
hope makes your Christmas Eve a little bit sweeter. Stay tuned, everybody,
It's coming up right after this first break. The holiday

(00:25):
classic was The Night Before Christmas was written by Clement
Clark Moore for his own kids. It was first published
in eighty three and has been part of Christmas traditions
for over a century. It was definitely part of my
own family traditions. My dad used to read Twas the
Night Before Christmas every single Christmas Eve, after dinner and
before we were allowed to open our Christmas p js. Now,

(00:49):
my mom, my brother, and I would also do sound
effects as he read it, which which may or may
not been awesome for him, but it was really fun.
It's been a long time since those Christmas Is, but
the memory of that is so clear and so bright
in my mind. So this year I asked my dad
to record Twas the Night Before Christmas so that I

(01:10):
could share that story and my dad with you. I
know so many of you are missing your dad's or
your grandparents, or the father of your own kids. Maybe
you just really wish you had a father figure in
your life. So I thought I could volunteer my dad
to be your stand in Dad, or your stand in Grandpa,
narrating this Christmas story for you and your family. My

(01:34):
dad is thrilled to be even a small part of
your family traditions this year, and I am so happy
to share him with you. Without further ado, everybody, twas
the Night before Christmas, written by Clement Clark Moore and
read to you by my dad William Divine the third,
from my family to yours. May you have the best

(01:55):
holiday season available to you. It was 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,

(02:18):
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads. And
Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap, had
just settled down for a long winter snap, when out
on the lawn there were arose such a clatter. I
sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash, tore

(02:38):
open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon
on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the
luster of midday to objects below. When what to my
wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh and a
tiny reindeer with a little old driver. So lively and

(02:59):
quick I knew in a moment it must be Saint
Nick more rapid than eagles. His coursers they came, and
he whistled and shouted and called him 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,

(03:21):
dash away, all as dry Lee's 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 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

(03:43):
drew in my hand and was turning around down the chimney,
Saint 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 peddler just opening his back. His eyes,

(04:05):
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
of 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.

(04:27):
He had a broad face and a little round belly
that shook me 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.

(04:50):
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 os, 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

(05:12):
I heard him explain. Ere he drove out of sight.
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night

(05:38):
Yereafter with Megan Divine has written and produced by me Megan. Divine.
Executive producer is Amy Brown, co produced by Elizabeth Fossio.
Logistical and social media support from Micah, Edited by Houston Tilly,
music provided by Wave Crush, and background noises provided by
Luna yelling at anyone walking by two