’Tis the season. Shoppers congesting streets and highways, shoppers clogging malls, shoppers straining etailers’ servers, lawns and facades glowing in ostentation, electricity bills spiking, yule logs blazing, air quality declining, waistlines expanding, holiday songs whirling in our heads. And among those songs is one originally made popular by Gene Autry, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
It was composed 65 years ago by Johnny Marks (no relation), who took the story from a holiday coloring book that his brother-in-law had put together for Montgomery Ward. We all know how it goes. One of Santa’s reindeer, Rudolph, is the victim of a genetic accident that has left him with a red, glowing nose. The other reindeer mock him for this oddity and exclude him from their games. He seems doomed to a life of misery, but he’s saved by a stroke of good fortune. On one particular Christmas eve, it’s so foggy that Santa can’t make his rounds without a bright light to guide the way. Of course, Santa thinks of Rudolph’s nose and puts him at the head of the reindeer team. Christmas is saved, and Rudolph’s a hero. Generations of kids have loved the story. The popular animated version with Burl Ives has now been on TV for 50 Christmases!
The theme of a sympathetic figure going from shunned to celebrated is so powerful that we willingly set aside the alarming aspects of the story. For example, we overlook the cruelty of the other reindeer. They’re really an awful bunch and, even more disturbing, they’re Santa’s reindeer! You’d think their behavior would be exemplary. What of Santa himself? This is the fellow who knows who’s naughty and nice, yet he’s clueless about his own reindeer. Or maybe he just doesn’t care that they’re so shallow and mean. And what if there had been no fog that Christmas eve? I suppose Santa would have ignored Rudolph’s plight indefinitely. Something’s rotten at the North Pole, but no one gets that from the song.
I’m determined to write a “counter-story”—one with a message that’s much more constructive than “adulation heals all wounds.” It’s about Gunther, another of Santa’s reindeer. He’s got an odd nose, too. It’s green, just plain green. It doesn’t glow or sparkle or radiate. It’s just another nose mutation. (Such oddities are inevitable in a small herd of flying reindeer that has been interbreeding for a least two millennia.)
When the other reindeer realize that Gunther’s nose has no fog-piercing qualities, they begin tormenting him, just as they had tormented Rudolph. They’ve learned nothing. Vixen is the worst of the lot. Whenever she sees Gunther, she calls out, “Hey, Gunth, put some shoe polish on that thing for heaven’s sake!” It gets very grim for Gunther. He goes off his food, becomes reclusive, and starts muttering to himself.
One evening, Santa and Mrs. Claus—her name is actually Emma—are having a quiet dinner. Suddenly she pours her heart out: “Nick, have you taken a look at Gunther lately? He’s utterly wretched, and it’s getting worse. He’s making himself sick!” “Yes, I’ve seen him, Em.” says Santa. “And I think we’ve put up with him long enough.” “What? Put up with him?!” she exclaims. But Santa doesn’t answer. He throws down his napkin, stands up, and heads for the closet where he keeps his rifle. “Oh, no!” shouts Emma. “No, no, no!”
Well, for the first time in centuries, Emma stands up to her husband. She says, “You’re as much a beast as your reindeer. You can just sleep in the toy factory with your elves!” Then she goes to the tool shed where Gunther is cowering and tells him, “I have a new home for you, Gunther… with me!” From that evening on, Gunther gets the love that every living thing deserves. And what of Santa and his other reindeer? Rumor has it that a team of sensitivity trainers is taking up permanent residence at the North Pole.
That’s the kind of story that deserves to be broadcast every Christmas. If anyone out there wants to set it to music, I’m ready to collaborate.
The Scratching Post 