The New Yorker Radio Hour - Bonus: Holiday Greetings from Ian Frazier

Episode Date: December 24, 2017

For decades, The New Yorker has published a poem on or around Christmas -- a look back at the events and people that have shaped the past year, generally light and fun; but in more difficult years it touches on quite serious themes as well. The humorist Frank Sullivan wrote the first "Greetings, Friends" back in 1935. Roger Angell wrote the poem for many years.  And staff writer Ian Frazier has been writing it since 2012. Frazier reads his 2017 "Greetings, Friends" in this podcast bonus of the New Yorker Radio Hour. New Yorker Radio Hour listeners, we want to hear from you.  We have a few questions about the show and how you listen to it. The survey takes about twenty minutes, and your feedback will help us make our podcast better.  Take the survey here.

I'm David Remnick, and this is a little holiday podcast, bonus. For decades, the New Yorker has published a poem on or around Christmas. I'll look back at the events and people that have shaped the past year no matter what. It's always fun, but in some years, more difficult years, it touches on quite serious things as well. The humorist Frank Sullivan wrote our first Christmas poem back in 1935. Roger Angel did it for many years, and staff writer Ian Frazier has been writing it since 2012. It's had the title, Greetings, Friends, for I don't know how many years, and here's Ian with the 2017 edition. Greetings, friends. Another Yuletide at the door. The wreath left on it since before the Christmas of 2015, a goodly while ago, I mean, is up to date now once again.

And I can yet remember when I hung it in a better time, well antecedent to this rhyme. So come on in, the light is lit, the dark still can't encompass it. A vast supply of grateful gladness above the current badness, madness, prompts us to spread goodwill promiscuous and warmest greetings all Christmiscuous. So, dearest critics wince away, as I shout out this holiday, the Kazer-Kans, that gold-star clan, and kind Pope Frank. Holy Man, and Meryl Streep and S.E. Cup, may all find joy that fills them up. For Mayor Rom Immanuel and Judge Gonzalo Curiel,

may this unskilful doggerel renew for them the annual season's felicitations. And to our neighbor nations, O Canada, I hope you know the gem you have in your Trudeau. And Mexico, I promise you, we're not all crazy. just a few. While lambent beams, celestial gleam across the continent in streams, I raise a toast to both O'Donnells, Lawrence Rosie, Mitch McConnell, fooled you, not, Mika Brzeinsky, Whoopi Goldberg, Dan Lipinski,

Misha Johnson, Charles Lane, Link Chaffee, and Megan McCain. Now I will do my Santa Stick for QB Colin Kaepernick, and belt a couple of carols with Josh Norman and Zadarius Smith. Such strong good wishes do I bear, for Marshawn Lynch and Jillyn Ware, and all the other NFLers, kneeling, sitting, standing fellers, may Christmas bless them everyone,

each young enough to be my son. Look out, your bard becomes verclempt, so let me bring some treats to tempt Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Joe McQua, the vendors who were never paid, Lisa Belkin, Nikki Haley, all those who take Xanax daily, Serge Kovilleschi,

Penn Gillette, Ms. Midler, the resplendent bet, Snoop Dog, Chuck Todd, and Charles Blow, Ruth Marcus, and the Navajo. I find myself in quite a hurry to say I'm fond of Stephen Curry, Jamel Hill and Molly Sims, Chuck Schumer with his crazy whims,

Angela Merkel, truly great. New Jersey, that outstanding state. NATO, Nordstrom, NBC, the EPA, and ESP. By now the party's getting packed with others who have been attacked in Twitter blurts and such-like places. Here's Hillary, of course, whose face is welcome, as is that of Matt By. Can I get enough of that guy? Teresa May, John Oliver, Adam Schiff, and Kayette. Lady Turr. Give further props, while yet we linger, to Julie Briskman and her finger. The D.C. Post,

the Al Smith dinner. Alec Baldwin, Emmy winner. The New Hampshire Union leader, every still-remaining reader, asylum seekers, Black Lives Matter, Representative Frederica Wilson and her hatter. Christmas has one thing about it. Despite the very worst who tout it, they can't destroy it, though they try. It does outlast them by and by. Angels flying ever higher, singing in the heavenly choir, joy to the world and First Noel. Can the season's secrets tell? Love one another. Peace is near. All people will be welcome here. Thus, good friends, let hearts be merry. 2018 might bring us very different luck than we've had lately. Fate's improving, bigly, greatly. spirits to protect and guide us, inspiration strong inside us, clearer vision, wiser choices.

Here are better angels' voices.