As I thought of that man who was dressed like a bum,
I asked myself why he had bothered to come.
Then I felt the cigar that I clutched in my hand,
Suddenly start to erupt and expand.
What magic is this? I wanted to know,
As the stogie continued to rumble and grow.
The cigar got real big, and it turned into wood.
I said to myself, this must be something good.
And when the cigar got as big as a hog,
I realized it had become a Yule Log.
I dropped that Yule Log on my stove with a yell,
Then it started to burn, and it started to smell.
Then I smelled the aroma of chili and beer!
It filled me with wonder and grace and good cheer.
That magical log and its magical smoke
Settled over my home like a miracle cloak.
Then I looked in the flames, and I saw all the faces
Of all my old friends, in all the old places.
I smiled a big smile, and was all filled with joy --
Like stealing my first Christmas tree as a boy.
That cop saved my Christmas, and gave me new hope,
When I thought I had come to the end of my rope.
Then, I knew -- tho' it all seemed a little bit sick --
That the man in the raincoat was really Saint Nick!
Since then, I've gone straight, and I've stayed out of jail,
Got a wife and a kid, and I work without fail.
And many's the Christmas I've spent in our home,
Thinking back to that night with that magical gnome.
And I always give thanks for my Christmas Eve spree
With Lieutenant Columbo, L.A.P.D.
--
Back in 2002, I sent a copy of this poem to Peter Falk by snail-mail, not really expecting a reply (although I thought any response would be great). Weeks passed -- then, months. And when Peter's letter came, it was perfect. He makes a joke about his own Columbo-like organizational skills regarding correspondence, and also makes kind reference to the time I appeared with him briefly on "The View" (there's an article about that in the Scrapbook area of the site). We miss you, Peter -- thanks for everything. And thanks for the gift of Columbo to all of us as your legacy.