Obligatory seasonal post



A week or so ago I went to the carols night at Mollie's nursing home, and would happily have joined the Bah Humbug Club on the spot. (Tangent: did the use of 'saccharine' to refer to the bogus piety of such events precede the invention of saccharine as an artificial sweetener, and if so what was its literal meaning at that time -- how did it differ from 'sugary-sweet'?) I've had a number of earworms picked up from seasonal musak, to the extent that every time I left the house with a list of things to buy I'd find myself humming about a partridge in a pear tree. I sneakingly identified with the line in Stuff White People Like: 'Hey man, I love that Burl Ives song, but um, you let "Silent Night" slip into the mix. That’s kind of awkward because, you know, the Crusades?' When a cashier in the bank asked me if I was getting into the seasonal spirit, I told her I was thinking of converting to Judaism.

But actually, I love Christmas. I loved it as a child: midnight mass preceded by carols, especially 'Angels we have heard on high', which mercifully doesn't seem to have been discovered by the shopping malls; stuffed pillow-slips; the present-giving ritual; a huge lunch of ham, cold chook and salad, and a bow to the northern hemisphere in the shape of plum pudding stuffed with sixpenny pieces and a crown my parents kept especially for the purpose; and then swimming and spending the day torpid in the tropical heat, usually in our hut at Flying Fish Point. Some years we'd go and visit a series of families that we never visited at any other time of the year -- kind of like embodied Christmas cards.

And in the last couple of days I've remembered that I love Christmas now. I know Capitalism has permeated it, and I find Father Christmas fairly meh (maybe I always did -- certainly I felt no sense of betrayal when I found out that in his current guise he originated as a C*ke ad). But yesterday at the Fish Markets even the getting and spending, the crowds and the gluttony seemed OK. For a start, two policemen were on duty on the street outside because the traffic was too much for the lights to handle. The lights hadn't been turned off, so there was some confusion, and one of the coppers in particular took the confusion as an opportunity to perform: a car stopped when the light was red; he bowed toward the driver and beckoned like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, then -- clearly the driver had stopped looking -- went down on his knees entreatingly; when at last he got a response he sprang to his feet and ushered the vehicle through its left-hand turn flouncing like a parody of a Shakespearean messenger. It was a wonderful piece of comedy dance, sarcastic and joyous and completely disarming. And not a santa hat or antler in sight. Once I got into the market proper I was euphoric: standing four deep at the prawn counter trying to attract the attention of one of the myriad young Asian women who called constantly, 'Anything else!' They were pushing their skills -- of comprehension, fine motor coordination, co-operation and charm -- to the limit, and if this year was like previous ones, they were on two-and-a-half times the normal rate of pay. It was a joy to see them in action, and astonishing how quickly and efficiently I was served my kilo and a half of Queensland tiger prawns.

On the domestic front, we had family and friends to dinner on Tuesday night, 16 guests counting the three dogs (not that I'm superstitious, but it seems important to include the dogs in that tally). Today started with an SMS from our elder son on Kythera, eating sausages because no one invited them to Christmas Eve dinner. Then younger son and girlfriend arrived for pancakes, gift exchange and a visit to Mollie in the nursing home. Penny and I had earlier resigned ourselves to having lunch à deux, but one of my sisters is down from Cairns and to our great and unfeigned delight invited herself, husband, daughter and daughter's boyfriend to lunch. So we sat down to our third festive meal: prawns, ham, turkey, beetroot salad, potato salad (with kalamata olives) and ... plum pudding. We played a couple of hands of May I, a card game that's new to Penny and me, and went for a long walk. It was, you might say, satisfactory.

And there were presents! I know, I know: consumerism, waste, greed, acquisitiveness. But I love giving and receiving presents. I can't say I love the shopping bit, and I'm not proud of letting Penny do almost all of our Christmas shopping (she claims to enjoy it). Presents are a whole language of friendship and love, as corruptible by the forces of commerce as any language, but still valid at its heart. 'What did ya get?' could possibly be translated as 'How do they love you?' Here's how they love me, a partial list (an S in brackets means I shared the present with Penny):

• a jar of chocolate sauce with a note saying that it's very cool in Europe just now to have it with bananas on pancakes (and I did, this morning, without the bananas)
• three exquisite and explicit sculptures based on Kama Sutra illustrations, in chocolate. The giver put a note on the card: 'I don't know if you like chocolate, but you'll probably enjoy the art.' My niece commented that there are very few people for whom that would be an appropriate gift, and apparently I'm one of them.
• (S) four chickens from World Vision to a village i the developing world
• (S) two door stops, perfect for our spiffy new doors
• two T-shorts, and two long-sleeved shirts, from the one who knows best the deficiencies of my wardrobe
• a mug and breakfast bowl, from the one who knows best my breakfast needs and desires
• books: Anathem, (from one who knows I'm a Neal Stephenson fan), Raining on the Sun (an anthology of North Queensland writing from my sister in Cairns), 500 Appetizers (recipes that will let me pull my weight in the kitchen) the new John Kinsella anthology of Australian poetry (from one who loathes poetry but knew I'd be thrilled to receive this), a Will Eisner comic (from my younger son, who is an Olympic level payer at giving thoughtful presents);and The Complete Book of Aunts (shared with Penny; from previously mentioned niece, so I'm assuming the mantle of honorary aunt)
• (S) a gizmo that enables iPod music to be played on the car radio, fro the same son (I can't listen to my iPod in the normal way because of hearing problems, and this gift restores it to usefulness)
• (S) a hammock

And now, dear reader, having had an excellent Christmas and without inflicting on you my thoughts on why we shouldn't let the believing Christians claim sole ownership of the feast, I'm off to bed.

As a Jewish friend said to us in the market on Saturday, 'Have a happy!'

Posted: Thu - December 25, 2008 at 09:57 PM           |

©