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.
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.
I’m already on my third cup of coffee this morning and that good old caffeine buzz I’ve come to rely on has yet to rev my engines. I have a lot of errands to run today and need some serious motivation to get them all completed. The blessing is that my better-half is working which will keep her out of my hair (what little I have left) to prepare for her birthday dinner tonight. It’s difficult to get anything secret done around here and over the years she’s forced me to become even sneakier than usual.
She loves being surprised and each year that goes by it get tougher and tougher to come up with fresh ideas. I’ve purchased her a few gifts which I’m sure she’ll like because I am “The Man” when it comes to giving great gifts. As much as she likes being surprised I like doing the surprising. I can’t go into too many details because she reads this blog looking for clues. I’ve learned to be very careful in keeping important information as secret as possible.
She’s been feeling a little depressed coming into the holidays since it’s the first ones since the passing of her Mom. She’s usually a Christmas fanatic going totally bonkers with decorations and general X-mas silliness. She needs something to get her into the holiday spirit and I’m hoping we’ll have our first snowfall soon. That’s always been a kick-start for me and I think it will be for her as well. She’s also a shopping machine and quite possibly a few hours out in the crowds on Black Friday will help too.
I understand how she feels because I went through the loss of both my parents in the last eight years. My mother was a Christmas lunatic too and it’s still difficult to have Christmas and not think of her and my dad and Christmases past.
The saving grace this year will be the grandsons. Christmas has always been for the children and once the tree gets decorated and the kids come to visit, chattering on and on about Santa and reindeer, she’ll be just fine. They own her completely and a few smiles from them will make all the difference in the world. Then she’ll go crazy the last week before Christmas trying to make up for lost time which is what I’m hoping for.
Truthfully I’ve been a real Grinch for many years about Christmas but having the boys in our life is changing all that. I hope we both can find the holiday spirit once again. I’d love to have that feeling on Christmas morning like I did when I was eight years old.
Five shopping days leaves little time to do much of anything. In keeping with the holiday I thought a little Christmas poetry was in order. This year for me has been more than a little strange. Broken bones and weight loss were my themes this year and thankfully I found this version of “The Night Before Christmas” written for strictly for us dieters. Enjoy!
The Dieter’s Night Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all round my hips
Were Fannie May candies that sneaked past my lips.
Fudge brownies were stored in the freezer with care
In hopes that my thighs would forget they were there.
While Mama in her girdle and I in chin straps
Had just settled down to sugar-borne naps.
When out in the pantry there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash,
Tore open the icebox then threw up the sash.
The marshmallow look of the new-fallen snow
Sent thoughts of a binge to my body below.
When what to my wandering eyes should appear
A marzipan Santa with eight chocolate reindeer!
That huge chunk of candy so luscious and slick
I knew in a second that I’d wind up sick.
The sweet-coated Santa, those sugared reindeer
I closed my eyes tightly but still I could hear;
On Pritzker, on Stillman, on weak one, on TOPS
A Weight Watcher dropout from sugar detox.
From the top of the scales to the top of the hall
Now dash away pounds now dash away all.
Dressed up in Lane Bryant from my head to nightdress
My clothes were all bulging from too much excess.
My droll little mouth and my round little belly,
They shook when I laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
I spoke not a word but went straight to my work
Ate all of the candy then turned with a jerk.
And laying a finger beside my heartburn
Gave a quick nod toward the bedroom I turned.
I eased into bed, to the heavens I cry–
If temptation’s removed I’ll get thin by and by.
And I mumbled again as I turned for the night
In the morning I’ll starve… ’til I take that first bite!
Dieting for me isn’t quite Christmassy enough. Many years ago I had a “friend” sent me this next version which was much more to my liking. Sex always sells so why not a sexy “Twas the Nite Before” instead of the traditional version. Maybe on Christmas Eve I’ll sent along a copy of the original to get us all into the real Christmas spirit. Enjoy this off-color version for now.
Night Before Sexmas
Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat,
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook,
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy, and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner and poor momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we’d built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.
With a fat little driver half out of his sled,
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.
Sure as I’m speaking, he was as high as a kite,
And he yelled to his team, but it didn’t sound right.
Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I’ll cut off your nuts.
Look out for the lamp post, and don’t hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, ’cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the old lamppost, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I was donning my jacket to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.
“That was some brothel,” he said with a smile,
“The reindeer are pooped, and I’ll just stay here awhile.”
He walked to the kitchen, himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.
A box filled with condoms was Santa’s next find,
And a six pack of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several other things that I shouldn’t even mention.
A fuck ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
A dildo so long, it lay in a coil.
“This stuff ain’t for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit.
So I’ll leave ’em here, and then I’ll just split.”
He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug tucked under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
In time he was seated, took the reigns of his hitch,
Saying, “Take me home Rudolph, this nights been a BITCH!”
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!”
Frigid cold last night and a very thin blanket of snow covering everything this morning. I walked outside for a few minutes and the air has that snap in it that I miss so much sometimes. When I can feel my nose hairs freezing and my face being chapped by the cold wind. These are some of the insane reasons I thoroughly enjoy Winter.
The thing I really don’t enjoy is the garbage that’s frozen to my driveway after a rather sloppy pickup by the local trash company yesterday. I needed a freaking ice pick and a shovel just to break it’s hold on the asphalt. Another of life’s little annoyances to kick you in the butt and to help you forget just how sentimental and emotionally sloppy your becoming over a little cold air and a brisk wind. I worry about myself a little when I begin waxing philosophic about weather changes.
Maybe it’s just this junior league hangover I’m sporting this morning. A few too many glasses of a reasonably good Chardonnay will do it to you every time.
I’m being forced by the passing days to complete my Christmas shopping but I can’t seem to get motivated about the holidays thus far. I’ve been avoiding the crowds and the all of the Christmas related decorations and music just through a total lack of interest. I’m hoping for a minor miracle that will somehow infuse me with that hard to find spirit just to keep my better-half happy.
I may be forced to surprise her when she gets home later today. I’ll unpack that beautiful eight foot fake Christmas tree and get it set up for her. I’ll need EMT’s standing by if I do because the shock might kill her. But . . . If I’m foolish enough to set up that tree then chaos will certainly follow. Before she goes to work tomorrow there will be boxes of ornaments, strings of lights, and dozens of feet of tinsel awaiting me. “You were so sweet to put up the tree for me, how about finishing the rest of the decorating today?”. I may have to take a short break, have a coffee, and then have my freaking head examined. Why in Gods name would I do that to myself. Wait just a second . . . .
. . . . OK I’m back. I went away for a while to a happy place where my inner voices told me to shut up, forget the damn decorations, and stop being stupid. Thank God for them. I’m getting in my car and taking my camera to begin another search for a few of those elusive Kodak moments anywhere but where Christmas music is playing.
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