Clement Moore was a real New Yorker. His lifetime of scholarship is long forgotten, but his doggerel is a gem. His family farm was named "Chelsea", and it is still Chelsea. Moore's family church still stands, St. Peter's. Been there, amazing old woodwork inside.
Moore is buried uptown. We almost got to that cemetary on our last urban hike.
Somewhat related, The story of the Christmas tree is one of resistance, breakthrough, and change. From the NY Times, 1883:
The German Christmas tree — a rootless and lifeless corpse — was never worthy of the day, and no one can say how far the spirit of rationalism which begins with the denial of Santa Claus, the supernatural filler of stockings, and ends with the denial of all things supernatural, has been fostered by the German Christmas trees, which have been adopted so widely in this country. … The Christmas tree, dropping melted wax upon the carpet, filling all nervous people with a dread of fire; banishing the juvenile delight of opening the well-filled stocking in the dim morning light, and diffusing the poison of rationalism thinly disguised as the perfume of hemlock, should have no place in our beloved land.