with backup vocals by JuneBug:

http://bit.ly/tpmoR (on YouTube)

From Charles Dickens The Pickwick Papers

(stolen from a blog post from last year at Mange Merde)

And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas
brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment. How many families, whose members have been dispersed and scattered far and wide, in the restless struggles of life, are then reunited, and meet once again in that happy state of companionship and mutual goodwill, which is a source of such pure and unalloyed delight; and one so incompatible with the cares and sorrows of the world, that the religious belief of the most civilised nations, and the rude traditions of the roughest savages, alike number it among the first joys of a future condition of existence, provided for the blessed and happy! How many old recollections, and how many dormant sympathies, does Christmas time awaken!

We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot at which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then, have ceased to beat; many of the looks that shone so brightly then, have ceased to glow; the hands we grasped, have grown cold; the eyes we sought, have hid their lustre in the grave; and yet the old house, the room, the merry voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstances connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recurrence of the season, as if the last assemblage had been but yesterday! Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fireside and his quiet home!

—

Cheryl and I watched Love Actually again last night. It’s a winsome movie, perfect for this time of the year. My parents got here today. They’re exhausted and temporarily without luggage, but glad to be here, glad to see Violet.

Cheryl made a wonderful bacon-mushroom quiche and I helped out with a delicious roasted-potato-and-mustard-vinaigrette salad. Dessert was molasses spice cookies and tea.

All are sleeping and snoring around me. It’s a lovely night.

...
Suddenly all REACT to a nearby CB transmitter which broadcasts.

						POWELL'S VOICE
			This is Sergeant Al Powell of the
			Los Angeles Police Department.  If
			the person who radioed for help on
			this channel can hear me, acknowledge
			this transmission...I say again...

172	INT. 33RD FLOOR - ON MCCLANE - NIGHT			172	*

						MCCLANE
				(to CB)
			I read you, Powell.  You the guy
			in the car?

										INTERCUT:

173	EXT. POLICE OPERATIONS TRAILER				173

	Powell stands in front of his destroyed cruiser and looks
	up at the building.  Behind him technicians, City Power and
	Light personnel, SWAT officers in protective gear, etc., arrive
	from all directions.  A trailer is being backed into a parking
	lot, which will become the police center of operations.  It
	is like watching a small town being constructed right before
	your eyes.

						POWELL
				(to CB)
			What's left of him.  Can you
			identify yourself?

										INTERCUT:

173-A   HANS AND KARL								173-A

	Listening intently.

						MCCLANE
			Maybe later.  Just listen fast
			because this is a party line and
			the neighbors are trigger happy.
			Now here's the skinny:  There's
			thirty or so hostages on the
			30th floor, with probably 2 or 3
			guards to cover a group that size.
			The leader here is named Hans,
			and besides the pea shooter he
			ventilated your car with,					*
			they got machine guns and					*
			sidearms up the yin yang.  On top
			of that one of 'em had a big enough
			chunck of plastic explosive to
			orbit Kate Smith.							*

	NOTE:  The following dialogue is said OVER McClane's.

						FRANCO
			We have to find him and shut him
			up!  He's telling them everything --

						HANS
				(shaking his head,
				calming)
			The police are irrelevant.  We've				*
			waiting for the FBI.  Until they				*
			arrive, we can't finish out work.
			Meanwhile, let this fool waste time
			for the police.  Fritz, go help Uli			*
			find the bag.

	The CAMERA TIGHTENS ON him

						HANS
			We must find those detonators.

	They leave.

173-B   WITH MCCLANE								173-B

						POWELL'S VOICE
			How many are there?

						MCCLANE
				(thinking about it)
			Figuring there's at least one to
			cover the lobby, a couple with the
			hostages...I'd say they came in
			with about a dozen...but they're
			down to nine now, including the
			skydiver you already met.  These
			guys are mostly Europeans, judging
			by their clothing labels, and they're
			well financed and very slick.

						POWELL
			How do you know?

						MCCLANE
			I've seen enough phoney ID's in
			my time to recognize that the ones
			they've got cost a fortune.  Add all
			that up and I don't know what the
			fuck it means, but these are bad
			ass preps and they're here to stay.

	We notice that everything McClane has said about "clothing"
	and ID's and police jargon, etc., has set off a little buzzer
	in Powell's brain.

						POWELL
			I hear you...
				(on a hunch)
			Partner.  And LA's finest are on it,
			so light 'em if you got 'em.

						MCCLANE
			I'm ahead of you...partner.

						POWELL
			Uh, what do I call you?

	A moment.  McClane smiles.  What the hell?

						MCCLANE
			'Roy'.

						POWELL
			Got it...'Roy'.  Now listen.  If
			you think of anything else you think
			we need to know, don't be shy, okay?
			In the meantime I want you to find
			a safe place and hole-up and let
			us do our job.  Understand?

						MCCLANE
				(to CB)
			They're all yours, Al.  Good luck.

	McClane turns off his CB and sits against the wall.

174-    OUT									OUT   174-
176											176

---

This movie seriously vies for best Christmas movie; just one man’s opinion, but it should probably be taken seriously. It’s hard to pick a scene that carries the movie within it, but this one was as close as I could come.

Yippee-ki-yay M***er f***ers, and god bless us, every one.

From Scrooged

…
FRANK:        It’s a night you’ve gotta party hearty, Marty.
Check this out. Whoa-ho! Don’t be so mean. Ugh!
Look!
[points to mistletoe]

There’s a rule, a tradition which says…
I have to kiss this girl.
She’s just upholding the law. It’s a federal law, actually.
Boy, that was very good. But you know what?
It wasn’t great. There’s only been one “great”.
There is a girl…
that I wish I were with tonight.
It’s a girl that I loved a long time ago.
A girl that I still love.
It’s not too late, is it?
Claire, you remember the Kama Sutra, page   ?
Our legs are like this. You circle me, chanting, before we begin?
It was practically impossible.
Tonight, we could do this without serious physical damage.

CLAIRE:        I need to get to lBC in 5 minutes.
CABBIE GHOST:    Which floor?

FRANK:        Deck the halls with boughs of holly
Tis the season to be jolly
Don we now our gay apparel
Troll the ancient yuletide carol
We should be taping this.
How did that happen?
That happened because it’s Christmas Eve.
I’m not crazy. It’s Christmas Eve.
It’s the one night when we all act a little nicer.
We…we smile a little easier. We…we…share a little more.
For a couple of hours we are the people we always hoped we would be.
It’s really a miracle because it happens every Christmas Eve.
And if you waste that miracle, you’re gonna burn for it. I know.
You have to do something. You have to take a chance and get involved.
There are people that don’t have enough to eat and who are cold.
You can go and greet these people.
Take an old blanket out to them or make a sandwich and say, “Here.”
“I get it now.”
And if you give, then it can happen, the miracle can happen to you.
Not just the poor and hungry, Everybody’s gotta have this miracle!
It can happen tonight for you all!
If you believe in this pure thing,
the miracle will happen and you’ll want it again tomorrow!
You won’t say, “Christmas is once a year and it’s a fraud.” It’s not!
It can happen every day! You’ve just got to want that feeling!
You’ll want it every day! It can happen to you!
I believe in it now.
I believe it’s gonna happen to me, now. I’m ready for it!
And it’s great. It’s a good feeling.
It’s better than I’ve felt in a long time.
I’m ready.
Have a Merry Christmas. Everybody.
Calvin!
Did I forget something, big man?

CALVIN:        God bless us, every one.

CLAIRE:        Lumpy! Lumpy, no!

FRANK:        Oh! Feels like boating a marlin.
Claire, the whole world. The whole world, Claire.
And they lived happily ever after.
Think of your fellow man
Lend him a helping hand
Put a little love in your heart
You see it’s getting late, so please don’t hesitate
Put a little love in your heart
And the world…
Will be a better place
And the world will be a better place for you…
And me
Just wait and see…
Another day goes by…
And still the children cry
Put a little love in your heart
And your world will be a better place
And the world…
Will be a better place…
For you and me
So just you wait and see…
Another day goes by and still the children cry
Put a little love in your heart
Put a little love in your heart
Put a little love in your heart…
Feed me, Seymour. Feed me!
Let’s hear it from all you out there.
You know the words, come on!
Let’s hear it from this side.
That’s no good. Let’s try the other side.
How about just the men? Come on.
All right. The real men.
All right. The women this time.
No, the real women. You know who you are.
OK, you! YOU making all the noise!
My brother, the King of Christmas…

—

We watched this again the day after Thanksgiving. It has such fantastic slapstick…

The story’s an oldie but a goodie, and the idea of stapling antlers on a mouse…anyway, just see it; you’ll be glad you did.

ARTIST: Dar Williams
TITLE: The Christians and the Pagans
(from Gunther Anderson)

Amber called her uncle, said “We’re up here for the holiday
Jane and I were having Solstice, now we need a place to stay”
And her Christ-loving uncle watched his wife hang Mary on a tree
He watched his son hang candy canes all made with red dye number three
He told his niece, “It’s Christmas eve, I know our life is not your style”
She said, “Christmas is like Solstice, and we miss you and it’s been awhile”

/ G C Am D / / Em C Am D / / G C Am D / /

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able
And just before the meal was served, hands were held and prayers were said
Sending hope for peace on earth to all their gods and goddesses

/ G C Em D / / Em C Am D / Em C Am D G – /

The food was great, the tree plugged in, the meal had gone without a hitch
Till Timmy turned to Amber and said, “Is it true that you’re a witch?”
His mom jumped up and said, “The pies are burning,” and she hit the kitchen
And it was Jane who spoke, she said, “It’s true, your cousin’s not a Christian”
“But we love trees, we love the snow, the friends we have, the world we share
And you find magic from your God, and we find magic everywhere”

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able
And where does magic come from, I think magic’s in the learning
Cause now when Christians sit with Pagans only pumpkin pies are burning

When Amber tried to do the dishes, her aunt said, “Really, no, don’t bother”
Amber’s uncle saw how Amber looked like Tim and like her father
He thought about his brother, how they hadn’t spoken in a year
He thought he’d call him up and say, “It’s Christmas and your daughter’s here”
He thought of fathers, sons and brothers, saw his own son tug his sleeve saying
“Can I be a Pagan?” Dad said, “We’ll discuss it when they leave”

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able
Lighting trees in darkness, learning new ways from the old, and
Making sense of history and drawing warmth out of the cold.

—

Neither a Christian nor a Pagan am I, but I think that’s a nice tune. And nice to sit at the same table and enjoy a good meal.

From the excellent, comprehensive, and highly recommend Oxford Companion to Food

COOKIE the name used in N. America for a small, flat, sweet confection, which approximates to a sweet BISCUIT as eaten in England, although cookies tend to be richer and have a softer, chewy texture. The name first appeared in print as long ago as 1703.

Generations of immigrants from all over Europe have contributed to the American tradition of cookies. Early Dutch settlers introduced their recipes for various types of koekje, Dutch for “little cake” (see BANKETBAKKERI), the name which needed only slight adaptation to become cookie. English, Scandinavian, German, and E. European settlers introduced numerous types of biscuit, including many which could be classed as cookies, and maintained their connection with feast days. Cookies were originally associated, in the USA, with New Year’s Day; references cited by Craigie and Hulbert (1938) from the early part of the 19th century show that cookies and cherry bounce (a cherry cordial) were the correct fare with which to greet visitors on that occasion, although already threatened “by plum-cake and outlandish liqueurs”, as one author put it.

The American habit of making up rolls of cookie dough and keeping them in the refrigerator or freezer may have come from Germany; the doughs for some German biscuits such as Heidesand are made into rolls and chilled before slicing. Pieces are sliced off and baked as required. These are often known as “icebox” cookies, and usually made from a rich creamed mixture. A type of icebox cookie has spread to the Chinese community; made from an almond-flavored creamed mixture, it is known as hsing jen ping. Fortune cookies, twists of plain dough which enclose slips of paper carrying prophecies, are a commercial invention of the Chinese community in N. America.

An alternative to recipes based on creamed doughs is provided by soft mixtures of a dropping consistency, used to make “drop cookies.”

Of the numerous recipes which have evolved in America, one of the best known is that for the chocolate chip, or Toll House cookie, which according to Mariani (1994) did not appear in recipe books until the 1930s; it was created by Mrs. Ruth Wakefield who owned the Toll House Inn in Whitman, Massachusetts.

In Scotland the term “cookie” has been in use since around 1700, but the original meaning is uncertain. It now refers to a lightly enriched bread bun, which may be split and filled with cream, or ornamented with icing.

CANDY a term derived from the Arabic qandi, meaning a sugar confection. In the USA it is a general term for all SWEETS of all kinds; in Britain it is used in a more restricted range of meanings, notably to indicate sweetmeats coated or glazed with sugar. For candied fruit, peel, and vegetables, see under CANDIED FRUIT etc. There is a separate entry for SUGAR CANDY.

[The entry on CHOCOLATE is far too long to type up.]

CHRISTMAS FOODS [This one's a long one] include in virtually all Christian countries or communities provision for a main meal on Christmas Day, or Christmas Eve, which in turn incorporates a main dish which is symbolic of Christmas. This main dish is liable to change, the only constant factor being that it is perceived as “special.” Thus, the TURKEY which has during the 20th century provided the main dish for most families in England does not represent an antique tradition, for it was only in the 19th century that it began to replace the GOOSE; and there are signs that the reverse process may now be under way. There is a similar question mark over the traditional CHRISTMAS PUDDING, whose ancestry (as plum POTTAGE or plum PUDDING) can be traced back for many centuries but which in its present configuration and status can also be counted as mainly a product of the 19th century, and which may also yield ground in the coming millennium to lighter alternatives. In other countries it is possible to observe similar gradual evolutions, although what is subject to change may be quite different: a carp, for example, rather than a bird.

What is, however, relatively common ground and relatively unchanging is the seasonal frenzy of baking in most European countries, as households (one used to say housewives, but patterns of activity change) make a stock of special foods for the Christmas period.

Mention of the Christmas period is highly relevant because, although Christmas is often taken to mean Christmas Day plus perhaps Christmas Eve and what is called Boxing Day in England, its more extensive meaning covers a long period, beginning with Advent in early December and continuing to Twelfth Night on 6 January. It is this longer timespan for which the baking frenzy caters.

Many of the bakery products, such as English MINCE PIES, Scandinavian GINGER BISCUITS, and German LEBKUCHEN, are indeed consumed throughout the season. Others are kept for specific days, which vary from country to country. In the Netherlands, Germany, and C. Europe 6 December (St. Nicholas’s Day) is important; as is 13 December (St. Lucy) in Sweden; Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in Britain, the USA, France, and S. Europe; New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day in Scotland; and 6 January (Epiphany) in France, Spain, and Portugal.

Although Christmas is supposed to commemorate the birth of Christ, a number of important pagan festival which took place at midwinter have been incorporated. Their echoes still persist in the feasting, especially in the shapes of foods baked for this time of year.

All special breads made for Christmas involve doughs mixed with quantities of butter, eggs, and sugar. Many are spiced, or flavoured with lemon zest, and further embellished with nuts and dried or candied fruit.

In Switzerland and Germany on St. Nicholas’s Day the saint is thought to reward good children with sweets but punish bad ones with a switch. In the Netherlands his role is to deliver presents to children. For this day Swiss bakers make Weihnachtsmanner, Father Christmases, and Grittibanzen, dough men. Shaped from lightly enriched dough, they range from simple figures with currant eyes to ones carefully dressed in fringed scarves and jackets, carrying walking sticks. Gingerbread and honey cake mixtures are also made into men for autumn and midwinter festivals over most of N. Europe, including Britain. There are no records of these having been made in the Middle Ages, but Bachmann (1955) conjectures that they represent a winter god, and refers to gods modelled in dough, mentioned in the Norse sagas.

On the day of the Immaculate Conception (8 December) the inhabitants of Madeira bake their bolo de mel for the coming Christmas. This honey cake (now sweetened with molasses), heavy with walnuts, almonds, and candied peel, is leavened by a piece of dough from bread-baking. Any honey cakes left from the previous year are eaten up on this day.

In Sweden St Lucy’s Day is celebrated with rich saffron flavored buns. The dough is mixed with fruit, candied peel, and almonds, and shaped into plaits, crosses, and buns called Lussekatter, St. Lucy’s cats. Traditionally, one of the daughters of the house gets up to prepare a breakfast of these buns, and dresses in a long white robe with a crown of lingonberry twigs and lighted candles on her head to serve them.

As the season progresses other breads make their appearance especially on Christmas Day. In England, the “traditional” Christmas cake, a rich FRUIT CAKE, has largely usurped the place of sweet spiced and decorated fruit breads. These cakes, round and covered in marzipan and a thick layer of royal icing, are made well in advance.

Breads have also been replaced by rich cakes in France, where the bûche de Nöel, a roll of light SPONGE CAKE, is covered in chocolate or coffee buttercream textured to resemble bark. The conceit is carried further by mounding the cream over small pieces of cake stuck to the main roll, to represent the trimmed branches. The ends of the roll and the cut faces of the “branches” are finished with a vanilla cream, imitating pale newly cut wood, and the whole is decorated with leaves made from icing, or meringue mushrooms.

Christmas breads are part of the celebrations of Scandinavia. The Danish jukelage is a Christmas fruit loaf, lightly enriched, kneaded with candied fruit, and flavoured with lemon peel and cardamom, and candied fruit; julbröd is the Swedish name for a similar loaf. Various kinds of coffee bread and Wienerbrød (DANISH PASTRIES) are baked in special Christmas shapes such as stars. These share the table with a plethora of Christmas biscuits such as pepperkaker (ginger snaps) and peppernotter (ginger nuts). The Norwegian kransekake (garland cake) is made from a marzipan-like mixture of ground almonds, icing sugar, and egg white, gently heated, and made into rings in graduated sizes; up to 14 rings may be made, for which special tins are available.

C. Europe provides a wealth of breads. Some, such as KUGELHOPF (an Austrian favourite), are made throughout the year. Hutzelbrot, a heavily fruited and spiced bread, is sold at all the Advent markets which are a popular feature of Christmas in Germany. Swiss Christmas Birnbrot includes kirsch in its spiced pear filling, which is encased in a lightly sweetened and enriched dough. Tannenzapfen, “pine cone cake,” a Swiss Christmas speciality, is made from thin layers of sponge built up into the shape of a pine cone lying on its side, covered in coffee-flavoured buttercream, and stuck all over with split toasted almonds to resemble the scales on the cone. Dresden STOLLEN is one of the most famous German Christmas breads; plainer Stollen are also made, some aniseed flavoured, as are SPRINGERLE biscuits. German and Swiss bakers make lightly enriched doughs into intricate plaited shapes such as the Weinachtszopf, a straight plait with dried fruit; or crowns, wreaths, and stars for Christmas and New Year displays. The plaits are said originally to represent women’s hair cut off in sacrifice as part of mourning ritual (a custom observed through much of ancient Europe by the inhabitants of Greece and Rome, as well as the Germanic tribes). They are also very decorative shapes which show off a baker’s skill.

Baking is somewhat less important in Mediterranean countries, where nut and sugar confections such as nougat sustain the sweet toothed. However, the principal Italian festive bread, PANETTONE, is on sale everywhere at Christmas. Christopsomo, Greek Christmas bread, is rich, sweet, aniseed flavoured, and marked with a Greek (equal-armed) cross.

The Church celebrates 6 January as Epiphany, the day on which the Christ child was shown to the three Kings. This date is also Twelfth Night, the last of the twelve days of Christmas. It has inherited some of the pagan customs associated with Roman Saturnalia, and its cakes are of such interest that they have separate entries; see TWELFTH NIGHT CAKE and (for France and other Latin countries) galette des rois, see GALETTE.

—

So I hand-typed that. And it was a lot of typing. This is roughly one page worth of a roughly 900-page book, all of which is fantastic. I couldn’t recommend it more highly. I tend to bust it out when we have company over, to read the entry on FENNEL, or BRAISE, but it’s fun to just sit and read.

Really, it’s fantastic. And reading about all these spiced breads makes me hungry.  Mmmm.

From Chapter 17 – Celebration Days in
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver

Snow fell on our garden in December, leaving the dried corn stalks and withered tomato vines standing black on white like a pen-and-ink drawing titled Rest. I postponed looking at seed catalogs for awhile. Those of us who give body and soul to projects that never seem to end–child rearing, housecleaning, gardening–know the value of the occasional closed door. We need our moments of declared truce.

The farmers’ market closed for the year. We paid our last call to the vendors there, taking phone numbers and promising to keep in touch for all kinds of reasons: we would miss our regular chats; we would need advice about the Icelandic sheep we were getting in the spring; we might drive out sometimes to get winter greens from their cold frames. We stocked up on enough frozen meat to see us through winter, including a hefty leg of lamb for one of our holiday dinners.

The tunnel of winter had settled over our lives, ushered in by that great official Hoodwink, the end of daylight saving time. Personally I would vote for one more hour of light on winter evenings instead of the sudden extra-early blackout. Whose idea was it to jilt us in this way, leaving us in cold November with our unsaved remnants of daylight petering out before the workday ends? In my childhood, as early as that, I remember observing the same despair every autumn: the feeling that sunshine, summertime, and probably life itself had passed me by before I’d even finished a halfway decent tree fort. But mine is not to question those who command the springing forward and the falling back. I only vow each winter to try harder to live like a potato, with its tacit understanding that time is time, no matter what any clock might say. I get through the hibernation months by hovering as close as possible to the woodstove without actual self-immolation, and catching up on my reading, cheered at regular intervals by the excess of holidays that collect in a festive logjam at the outflow end of our calendar.

We are a household of mixed spiritual backgrounds, and some of the major holidays are not ours, including any that commands its faithful to buy stuff nobody needs. But we celebrate plenty. We give away our salsas and chutneys as gifts, and make special meals for family and friends: turkey and stuffing. Leg of lamb with mint jelly and roasted root vegetables tossed with rosemary and olive oil. For New Year’s Day, the traditional southern black-eyed peas and rice, for good luck. Always in the background, not waiting for a special occasion, is the businesslike whir of the bread-machine paddles followed by the aroma of Steven’s bread-of-the-day filling the whole house. We have our ways of making these indoor months a more agreeable internment.

—

This book was good, and a hard one for me to pick up. I love food, and increasingly I love books that challenge the way I approach food, and this book definitely did that. My life is better now for it.

To be completely honest, I should acknowledge that I don’t totally agree with Kingsolver’s approach to food (who agrees with anyone totally about anything, though, right?), and even if I did, I’m too much of a born-and-raised suburbanite to really forgo a whole world of long-distance produce (clementines at Christmastime?). All that said, this is a phenomenal read, with as much to say about how to live well and value life as it does about food and the eating of it.

All that and it’s fun, to boot. I love the way she treats Thanksgiving:

Wake up now, look alive, for here is a day off work just to praise Creation: the turkey, the squash, and the corn, these things that ate and drank sunshine, grass, mud, and rain, and then in the shortening days laid down their lives for our welfare and onward resolve. There’s the miracle for you, the absolute sacrifice that still holds back seeds: a germ of promise to do the whole thing again, another time.

Isn’t that just fantastic?

Anyway, I’ve been veering off course with my last bunch of entries, focusing more on what I think a lectionary should be than what I actually feel like reading this time of year (although those dictionary entries were spot on. damn, i love that stuff).

So here’s to keeping the faith with the rest of the series. Next up: Oxford Guide to Food on delicious goodies.

All from bartleby.com

Advent

[Lat.,=coming], season of the Christian ecclesiastical year preceding Christmas, lasting in the West from the Sunday nearest Nov. 30 (St. Andrew’s Day) until Christmas Eve. In the Roman Catholic Church it is traditionally considered a season of penitence and fasting, to prepare for the holy day, and its liturgical color is purple. However, the Roman observance has always contained an element of joyful anticipation of Christmas, a feeling that prevails during this season in Western churches today. Originally Advent was seen as a time of preparation for the feast of Christ’s nativity. But during the Middle Ages this meaning was extended to include preparation for Christ’s second coming, as well as Christ’s present coming through grace.

The Columbia Encyclopedia, Sixth Edition. Copyright © 2007 Columbia University Press.

—

Christmas

[Christ’s Mass], in the Christian calendar, feast of the nativity of Jesus, celebrated in Roman Catholic and Protestant Churches on Dec. 25. In liturgical importance it ranks after Easter, Pentecost, and Epiphany (Jan. 6).
1
The observance probably does not date earlier than A.D. 200 and did not become widespread until the 4th cent. The date was undoubtedly chosen for its nearness to Epiphany, which, in the East, originally included a commemoration of the nativity. The date of Christmas coincides closely with the winter solstice in the Northern hemisphere, a time of rejoicing among many ancient cultures. Christmas, as the great popular festival of Western Europe, dates from the Middle Ages. In England after the Reformation the observance became a point of contention between Anglicans and other Protestants, and the celebration of Christmas was suppressed in Scotland and in much of New England until the 19th cent.
2
In the mid 19th cent. Christmas began to acquire its associations with an increasingly secularized holiday of gift-giving and good cheer, a view that was popularized in works such as Clement Clarke Moore’s poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (1823) and Charles Dickens’s story A Christmas Carol (1843). Christmas cards first appeared c.1846. The current concept of a jolly Santa Claus was first made popular in New York in the 19th cent. (see Nicholas, Saint).
3
The Yule Log [Yule, from O.E.,=Christmas], the boar’s head, the goose (in America the turkey), decoration with holly, hawthorn, wreaths, mistletoe, and the singing of carols by waifs (Christmas serenaders) are all typically English (see carol). Gifts at Christmas are also English; elsewhere they are given at other times, e.g., at Epiphany in Spain. The Christmas tree was a tradition from the Middle Ages in Germany. The crib (crèche) with the scene at Bethlehem was popularized by the Franciscans. The midnight service on Christmas Eve is a popular religious observance in the Roman Catholic and some Protestant churches.
4
See also Advent and Twelfth Night.
5
See M. Hadfield and J. Hadfield, The Twelve Days of Christmas (1961); P. L. Restad, Christmas in America (1995).

—

E. Cobham Brewer 1810–1897. Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. 1898.

Christmas Decorations.

The great feast of Saturn was held in December, when the people decorated the temples with such green things as they could find. The Christian custom is the same transferred to Him who was born in Bethlehem on Christmas Day. The holly or holy-tree is called Christ’sthorn in Germany and Scandinavia, from its use in church decorations and its putting forth its berries about Christmas time. The early Christians gave an emblematic turn to the custom, referring to the “righteous branch,” and justifying the custom from Isaiah lx. 13—“The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee; the fir-tree, the pine-tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary.”

—

Oh, how I love dictionaries.

There’s a certain Slant of light
by Emily Dickinson

There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons —
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes —

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us —
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are —

None may teach it — Any —
’Tis the Seal Despair —
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air —

When it comes, the Landscape listens —
Shadows — hold their breath —
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death —
—

I have a 102.5 fever, so I missed yesterday’s post. Here it is!

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork — bread, English muffins, marshmallows — and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn’t work.

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron’s set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family — in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren’t a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn’t trust him at all. He wasn’t a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. “Don’t send me there, can’t you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him.”

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

“Merry Christmas,” said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

“You, too,” said Harry. “Will you look at this? I’ve got some presents!”

“What did you expect, turnips?” said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry’s.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it — it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

.3in;line-height:normal;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none’>We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

“That’s friendly,” said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

“Weird!” he said, ‘What a shape! This is money?”

“You can keep it,” said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. “Hagrid and my aunt and uncle — so who sent these?”

“I think I know who that one’s from,” said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. “My mom. I told her you didn’t expect any presents and — oh, no,” he groaned, “she’s made you a Weasley sweater.”

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

“Every year she makes us a sweater,” said Ron, unwrapping his own, “and mine’s always maroon.”

“That’s really nice of her,” said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

His next present also contained candy — a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.

This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

“I’ve heard of those,” he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he’d gotten from Hermione. “If that’s what I think it is — they’re really rare, and really valuable.”

“What is it?”

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

“It’s an invisibility cloak,” said Ron, a look of awe on his face. “I’m sure it is — try it on.”

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

“It is! Look down!”

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

“There’s a note!” said Ron suddenly. “A note fell out of it!”

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

.3in;line-height:normal;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none’>Your father left this in my possession before he died.

.3in;line-height:normal;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none’>It is time it was returned to you.

.3in;line-height:normal;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none’>Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

“I’d give anything for one of these,” he said. “Anything. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn’t feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Hey, look — Harry’s got a Weasley sweater, too!”

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

“Harry’s is better than ours, though,” said Fred, holding up Harry’s sweater. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.”

“Why aren’t you wearing yours, Ron?” George demanded. “Come on, get it on, they’re lovely and warm.”

“I hate maroon,” Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

“You haven’t got a letter on yours,” George observed. “I suppose she thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid — we know we’re called Gred and Forge.”

“What’s all this noise?”

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

“P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we’re all wearing ours, even Harry got one.”

“I — don’t — want —” said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

“And you’re not sitting with the prefects today, either,” said George. “Christmas is a time for family.”

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn’t just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral’s hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard’s hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry’s amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris’s Christmas dinner.

Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn’t have lost so badly if Percy hadn’t tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they’d stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry’s best Christmas day ever.

—

So. (A long one, I know. Please don’t sue me, JK! I swear this is/should be fair use!) That sounds like a nice Christmas. Tonight was UUCA’s annual Moravian Love Feast, and when we sang “Morning Star”, it all came flooding back, and every word was sung in my seven-year-old soloist’s voice, tinny and willful.

One of the things I’ve always loved about the Harry Potter books is the radical (or maybe conservativeish?) reimagining of J.M. Barrie’s Lost Boys. In ways, I guess all kids books bear resemblances to Peter Pan, in that the main characters are kids. Still, the agonism bears the analogy pretty well: HP:Peter Pan::Voldemort:Cpt. Hook.

The upshot of the Harry Potter books, though, seems (when framed this way, at least) to imply that a world ruled by children can lead to an improved world order, rather than be dominated by fantasy and forgetfulness. Harry and Ron and Hermione are well-adjusted and well-loved, even if Harry has no close and loving immediate family to anchor him.

Meh, interesting stuff, to me at least. The Christmas here is a pretty solid Christmas fantasy, if Harry had been given the opportunity to conceive one earlier.

Love to all.