I’m a bit of a history nut and because it’s the Christmas season I began wondering, how the Christmas we celebrate came to be. Of course, having a trace of Celtic blood in me leads me directly back to the Druids and some of their odd and unusual celebratory customs. As far as I can tell that’s where the tradition of mistletoe began as it was a part of many of their holiday ceremonies. As I read through a number of books there was absolutely no history of kissing under the mistletoe in the days of the Druids. The tradition of hanging a sprig in the house is supposedly linked to them as well. That came much later with the earliest recorded mention in some sort of music from 1784.
In illustrations of Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, there appeared pictures of people kissing under the mistletoe. It’s quite likely that those illustrations popularized the custom. Leave it up to us Americans to take an old Bronze Age custom and turn it into just another reason to be kissing on someone.ofofofI was also curious of where the custom of bringing a tree into the house originated. As best I can determine it started with the Germans who got it from the Romans, who got it from the Egyptians who got it from the Babylonians. Who knows what’s true and what isn’t. It seems that those pesky Babylonians passed down a lot of crazy traditions to anyone who’d listen. Apparently, there was some sort of Babylonian fable concerning an evergreen tree that grew out of a dead tree trunk. Sounds stupid to me but any reason is a good reason when you want to throw a party or orgy.
The first written record of a decorated Christmas tree comes from Latvia, in the 1500’s. Local merchants decorated a tree and danced around it in the marketplace. When they became too tired to dance, they set it on fire. I’m sure glad that custom didn’t make it to the present day. Around that same time the Germans in their infinite wisdom passed a law to limit the size of a Christmas tree to just over four foot high. You gotta love them Germans.
Jump ahead a hundred years when it became common in Germany to decorate Christmas trees with apples. During the 1700’s in parts of Austria and Germany, evergreen tips hung from the ceiling and were decorated with apples, gilded nuts and red paper strips. The first mentions of using lighted candles came from France in the 18th century. Those quirky French must have a fondness for the occasional house fire. As Europeans emigrated to America, they brought their customs with them. The Christmas tree was introduced in the United States and grew from tabletop size to floor-to-ceiling. If you’re going to live in America, everyone knows things must be bigger and better.
In the 1880’s trees began to be sold commercially in the United States and were normally harvested from the forests. The first glass ornaments were introduced again from Germany and were mostly balls. Toys and figurines also became more common during those years. Sears, Roebuck & Company began offering artificial Christmas trees for sale – 33 limbs for $.50 and 55 limbs for $1.00. There was nothing that Sears Roebuck won’t rush to sell to make a few bucks.
The 1900’s brought us the first Christman tree farms because the surrounding forests were being overharvested. W.V. McGalliard planted 25,000 Norway spruce on his farm in New Jersey to get the ball rolling. President Theodore Roosevelt actually considered banning the practice of having Christmas trees out of his concern about the destruction of the forests. His two sons disagreed and enlisted the help of conservationist Gifford Pinchot to convince the President that the tradition was not harmful to the forests. In 1966 the National Christmas Tree Association began its time-honored tradition of having the Grand Champion grower present a Christmas Tree to the First Lady for display in the Blue Room of the White House. Currently there are approximately 25-30 million real Christmas trees sold each year in the United States. Almost all of these come from farms.
Just a tip from a former college student who worked part-time on a Christmas tree farm in Edinboro, Pennsylvania in the 1960’s. It was the worst job I ever had. I smelled like pine trees for months and ruined most of my clothes because of the sap. That job convinced me to say the hell with tradition, just get me one of those beautiful artificial trees. I never looked back.
When I woke up this morning, I immediately decided to ignore Christmas for a few more days. The decision was caused by a combination of things but primarily due to the last 25 Christmas Rom-Com’s I had to watch at the insistence of my better half. One more passionate but interrupted kiss and I will run screaming from the room. Let’s just amuse ourselves for a little while longer before the Christmas elf makes the next 2 weeks a green and red nightmare.
The insults “moron, “idiot”, “imbecile,” and “cretin” were all once official medical diagnoses.
The penis of a Barnicle may reach up to 20 times its body size.
The highest possible legal score on a first turn in Scrabble is given by the word “muzjiks,” scoring 128 points. The world record for the highest score on a single turn is “quixotry” for 365 points.
The FBI had a 1427-page dossier on Albert Einstein.
“Queueing” is the only word in English with five consecutive vowels.
A cow burps up to 280 liters of methane per day.
Two thirds of the world’s people never seen snow.
Woodrow Wilson is the only president to have had a PhD.
Aldous Huxley died on the same day John F. Kennedy was assassinated.
From a height of 3 kilometers, it takes 30 minutes for a snowflake to reach the ground.
In the United States, 12% of women with MBAs are divorced or separated, compared with 5% of men with MBAs.
In any given day, more people in India travel by train then by plane in the entire year.
One American in 6500 is injured by a toilet seat during their lifetime.
Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport is larger than Manhattan.
Ladders are dropped on Los Angeles freeways more than any other item.
Every year, an average of 12 Japanese tourists in Paris have to be repatriated due to severe culture shock.
With the holidays underway I looked far and wide for some holiday related limericks. I found a few but they were absolutely horrible. So, I decided that since every holiday has a feast of one kind or another, today’s collection of limericks will be about food and eating. They are also rated G so the younger readers can enjoy them as well. The juicier limericks will continue after the holidays for all of you poetry connoisseurs. These are circa 1952.
As I’m sure you all know, people love beer. With the holidays coming up I assume that all of you beer fanatics out there will be hoisting a few cold ones while watching many of your favorite football games. I’m not a beer person but I’m sure if you consume enough it will make for an even happier holiday season. I understand it also helps, if done properly, to “zone out” all of the miscellaneous holiday conversations you would normally be required to respond to. I’ve been told many times by friends and acquaintances alike that “beer is better than women”. This posting was sent to me by a friend, but it should be read primarily by the men. I’m sure a few beer drinking women will be up in arms over this post but please don’t kill the messenger. I’m just forwarding this along to the men out there who will be in need of some comic relief in the coming months.
WHY BEER IS BETTER THAN WOMEN
You can enjoy a beer all month long.
You don’t have to wine and dine a beer.
When beer goes flat, you toss it out.
Beer is never late.
A beer doesn’t get jealous when you grab another beer.
When you go to a bar, you can always pick up a beer.
Beer never has a headache.
A beer won’t get upset if you come home with beer on your breath.
If you pour beer right, you’ll always get good head.
A beer always goes down easy.
A beer is always wet.
A frigid beer is a good beer.
You don’t have to wash a beer before it tastes good.
Beer doesn’t care when you come.
You always know if you’re the first one pop a beer.
Hell, I think I’m having a beer induced epiphany. After reading all of this interesting information I just might have to try a beer or two over the holidays. I never realized just how much better beer was than women until I read this list. As an aside ladies, if you think this list was misleading or untrue, I welcome any contributions from all of you as to why beer is better than men.
This is a favorite post that I pull out once a year because it takes me back to a time when Christmas was still something special for a young kid. This is one of those incidents that stays with you for your entire life and the older you get the funnier it seems. At the time I wasn’t laughing all that much, but the prank was done with the best of intentions by my favorite aunt. Enjoy!
As a young child my parents made every attempt to make Christmas as memorable as possible for my sister and for me. I was almost 6 years old when this incident took place back when I still firmly believed the tales of Santa and his elves and all that good stuff. But in the back of my young mind, I secretly was beginning to have doubts. A lot of what I was being told by the family wasn’t what I was hearing on the playground. My friends had almost convinced me there was no Santa and that my parents were actually the real gift givers. My parents apparently began to suspect that I was wavering, and their propaganda was falling on deaf ears. In a conspiracy involving my mother’s sister, Annamae, they decided drastic action was needed. I’d been acting out and being a little disrespectful, so it was time for Santa to straighten me out.
It was about a week before Christmas, and we were visiting my grandparents. I was being a huge pain in the butt like a lot of six-year-olds can be. It was just after dark, and I was walking through the house to the kitchen. As I passed by a window in the hallway I glanced over and almost crapped my pants. There was Santa standing there staring right back at me and smiling. I was terrified and quickly ran upstairs and hid under the bed and refused to come out until the coast was clear. My parents let me know in no uncertain terms that Santa was out looking for those children who were being good and only visiting those that weren’t.
For the next day or so I was a perfect little angel but after dark I was afraid to look out the windows or to enter a dark room. Santa the terrorist had accomplished his mission. I saw him on two or three other occasions during the next few years, once at our home, and again in the cellar of my grandparents’ house. Unfortunately, I was already a nonbeliever by that time but went along with the charade to keep peace in the family and not to scare my little sister. By then I knew my parents were the ones I needed to suck up to and I did it in grand fashion.
Many years later while I was digging through a trunk in my aunt’s bedroom I discovered where Santa had been hiding for all these years. His retirement consisted of being hidden under a pile of sheets and pillowcases in an old trunk. My aunt laughed like crazy when I confronted her, and we both enjoyed the moment very much while I modeled the hat and beard one last time. It was a real Hallmark moment for both of us.
What I never told her, or my parents was that there was some lingering collateral damage from their actions. My first case of Christmas PTSD. To this day during the Christmas season, I’m careful in dark rooms and try never to look out the windows after sunset. In the malls or stores where Santas is holding court, I usually just walk on by without making eye contact. The guy still scares the bejesus out of me. LOL
I’m already getting a little bored with Christmas so here’s my change of pace. Mish Mosh is always interesting and it will help to get me out of this holly, jolly, mindset I’ve fallen into. Weird and strange facts which someone (maybe even you) will find interesting.
Women tend to shave approximately 412 square inches of their bodies, while men shave only 48.
Tap water in New York City is considered non-kosher, as it has been found to contain microorganisms that qualify as shellfish.
December is the most common month for children to be conceived.
Fingerprints are unique to each individual, of course, but the same goes for tongue prints and lip prints.
A pound of peanut butter is made up of 720 peanuts.
During his nine-year reign as pope (beginning in 955), John XII was charged with multiple sexual acts and toasting the devil with wine. He was allegedly killed by a jealous husband.
Confederate volunteers in the Civil War were paid $11 per month in 1861. Their pay was increased to $18 per month by 1864, but by then the currency was almost worthless.
As General George Patton crossed a bridge over the Rhine River into Germany during World War II, he stopped in the middle and urinated into the river.
The working title of the Beatles hit “With a Little Help from My Friends” was “Bad Finger Boogie”
The human heart produces enough pressure to squirt blood more than 30 feet.
I already feel better since ridding my brain of all this holiday insanity, if only for just a few minutes. I’m afraid that I’ll be back at posting about the holidays and Santa and reindeer and mistletoe and snow and Christmas cards and OMG please stop me now.
Continuing the Christmas theme for this week, here are a group of Christmas limericks collected from far and wide places. I hope they put a holiday grin on your face.
I thought I would continue my Christmas craziness today with a description of my better-half’s last two weeks of Christmas preparation. I’m not a huge Christmas person but my better half is the poster girl for Christmas insanity. It all started approximately two and a half weeks ago when she began unloading the attic with a never-ending pile of boxes containing thirty years of Christmas paraphernalia. It’s not that she wanted to use all of that stuff to decorate the house but the more she looks through those boxes the more decorations magically begin to appear everywhere. I may lose my every so merry mind. There are wreaths on the front door, garage doors, across the deck which is also strung with yards and yards of tinsel and lights. I think I now have one of the largest collections of extension cords in this part of Maine. I’m so proud!
I need a short break from all this holiday cheer. Try to answer these five Christmas movie trivia questions. Are you a serious elf or just a poser? I’ll list the answers at the end.
In “A Christmas Story”, who gifts Ralphie a pink bunny onesie for Christmas?
In “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, what is the name of the Grinch’s dog?
In “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation”, how many lights are on the Griswold house?
In “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, what does Jack Skellington call Santa?
What is the highest-grossing Christmas movie of all time?
This is what my elf wants our house to eventually look like.
Let me say again that of this morning fully fifty percent of every surface in the house has something Christmassy on it. All the windows are decorated, small statuettes of every Christmas figure you could possibly think of are sitting on every piece of furniture within my field of vision. Help! I’m being held prisoner in Santas southern vacation home, and I can’t escape. There’s only one elf living here, and she is out-of-control. I’m reasonably sure if I stood still for more than five minutes, I’d have yards of tinsel hanging from my body with an appropriate number of silly little ornaments and bells attached. If I stood still for a full ten minutes, I guarantee she’d find a way to have flashing lights wrapped around me and twinkling “Oh So Merrily”. My only refuge from the Christmas madness is my man-cave. She has yet to visit there and I’m guarding the door to keep her out. Three more weeks of this and I’ll probably make the nightly news. I’ll be the guy dressed like Santa Clause threating to jump off the nearest bridge in Portland, Maine, “Film at Eleven!” Oh yeah . . . here are your trivia answers. How did you do?
Answers: Aunt Clara, Max, 25,000, Sandy Claws, Home Alone
I’m not sure how everyone else was raised to celebrate Christmas but for me it entailed much more religion than anything else. My late Mother was Catholic through-and-through which translated into sending religious Christmas cards, attending midnight masses, and donating time to local organizations involved with decorating town areas. Being a kid, I was unceremoniously volunteered to help with almost everything she did whether I liked it or not.
As we age things tend to change a little and my approach to Christmas certainly did. I was never all that interested in the religious portion of Christmas, but I went begrudgingly along just to please my mom until I reached the ripe old age of 13. Then I became what some people might call, difficult. I must have been way ahead of my time if what I’ve learned in recent years is any indication.
A few years ago, my three-year-old grandson came to make his annual Christmas visit. It was the first time he’d actually seen our decorated tree and all the trimmings. We’d been very busy wrapping gifts and there was a pile of them under the tree. I was sitting on the floor next to him when he quietly whispered to me “Are those our prizes?” I told him they were presents for everyone brought here a little early by a busy Santa. He gave me a long sideways glance while he thought about what I’d said. He must have decided Santa was still a real possibility, so the conversation turned right back around to the presents under the tree. I was again corrected by the little guy with “Grandpa those are prizes not presents” and “can we open just one.” I told him they couldn’t be opened until Christmas day but he insisted one of them had to be for him so we should open that one right now. Being chastised by a three-year-old takes some getting used to but I persevered and again refused his request.
Gifts and Presents are Really Prizes
My first thought was who put the word “prize” into his head. Neither my better-half nor I would do it and I’m certain his parents wouldn’t do it either. That leaves just his friends at the daycare center that he attends almost every day. That small herd of little people who have nothing better to do all day than to play, fight, wrestle, nap, and tell each other the facts of life as translated from what they’ve heard at home. Somewhere along the way someone slipped in the word “prizes”, and it seems to have stuck.
There was no mention of Jesus, his birthday, the Magi, church or religion. It’s taken less than two generations to wean the kids from religion at Christmas to a more secular and materialistic outlook. I suppose in another few years we’ll be calling Christmas “Prize Day”. If you’re a good little boy/girl, you win a prize but if you’re a bad little girl/boy you’ll get one anyway. We wouldn’t want you to feel like a loser.
Having Christmas as a religious holiday gave me a fun and interesting childhood. It’s sad to see society steal away some of the youngster’s fantasies at such a young age. I’m not religious now but the memories I have of my family when I was young still make me happy. Christmas is a holiday for the little children and not so much for the adults. It took me a number of years before I made the decision for myself that Christmas wasn’t for me. Let’s let the tots have their fun, they’ll be plenty of time in the future for society to screw with their heads.
These last few weeks I’ve been inundated with football facts, game reviews and a general feeling of unease. That means that I’ve got no dog in the Super Bowl hunt this year. Without a team to support I find almost everything else a little boring. I’m not by any stretch of the imagination an avid sports fan and now I remember why. I’ve always been bored watching games but listening to the hundreds of so-called experts’ blather on and on makes me nauseous. I’ve dug down deep into my trivia files and have found a few interesting quotes from some of our gallant football gladiators. Here they are . . .
“If you can’t make the putts and can’t get the man in from second on the bottom of the ninth, you’re not going to win enough football games in this league, and that’s the problem we had today.” Sam Rutigliano – Cleveland Browns coach
“He fakes a bluff.” Ron Fairly – New York Giants commentator
“I don’t care what the tape says. I didn’t say it.” Ray Malavasi – St. Louis Rams coach
“I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.” Terry Bradshaw, player/announcer
“I’m not allowed to comment on lousy officiating.” Jim Finks, New Orleans Saints general manager
“I want to rush for 1000 or 1500 yards, whichever comes first.” George Rogers, New Orleans Saints running back
“He (his coach) treats us like men. He lets us wear earrings.” Torrin Polk, University of Houston receiver
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