May Day 2013

What potent blood hath modest May,
What fiery force the earth renews,
The wealth of forms, the flush of hues;
What joy in rosy waves outpoured
Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord.  – Ralph Waldo Emerson, “May-Day”

It’s Beltane again, and the world is warming; though here in North America the winter held on right into April and another chill is expected across much of the continent tonight, that seems to have daunted humans far more than the plants and animals, which (around here, at least) have been behaving just as one expects them to in April.  The grass turned green again, flowers are everywhere, birds are singing and insects are buzzing.  Mind you, I’m not terribly happy about that last; May and June are the two worst months for flies, ticks and chiggers where I live, so from now until the end of August I don’t dare set foot outside without rubbing insect repellant on my shins and feet.  And though I prefer skirts to jeans, that simply won’t work in the summer unless I’m going straight from house to car; the nasty little parasites will climb up the inside of a skirt, then right onto my repellant-free pelvis.  Ugh!

May is also the time when we shear our long-haired animals so they’ll be comfortable for the summer; I won’t do it until I’m sure the cold is gone, but it will have to be fairly soon.  If it’s done too late they won’t have time to re-grow their coats by winter, but if it’s done too early their hair will be long again by the Dog Days, always the hottest and most miserable time of year.  But May is usually lovely; as I’ve said before, spring is my second-favorite time of year after autumn, not only for the gorgeous colors but also because I love warm (not hot) days and cool (not cold) nights, and that’s the typical pattern around here from April to June and September to October.

May Day is largely a forgotten holiday; thought it was once rich in tradition, it was stolen from the old pagan gods and goddesses by the followers of one of the modern secular religions (though that one, too, has died in its turn).  But these are autumnal thoughts, and not suitable for lusty May; go forth, enjoy the day in whatever way suits you best, and remember that in less constipated times, this was a day to celebrate Nature’s gift of sex.

Blessed Be!

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May Eve

Bobby didn’t want to come back, Mommy.  -  Dead of Night

Tomorrow is May Day, halfway around the year from Samhain; today is therefore May Eve, a springtime counterpart of Halloween.  As I explained in last year’s column for the occasion, “the night was…believed to be one on which spirits walked abroad, and…bonfires were [used] to keep them at bay…though it’s become less common in the past few decades, 19^th and early 20^th century horror stories often depicted dark doings taking place on April 30^th.”  Last year I shared my picks for the ten scariest short stories of all time, and back in October of 2011 I shared my list of scariest horror movies; today I’m going to sort of combine the two and give you a list of video equivalents of short stories, in other words my picks for some of the scariest TV episodes I’ve ever seen.

Notice I didn’t say “of all time”; when I decided to do the list, I immediately realized that any list I could create would be like an antimatter version of the ridiculous lists created by twenty-something-year-old entertainment journalists, in which “of all time” actually means “since 1984”.  Since I stopped watching commercial television in 1980, broadcast television in the mid-‘90s and virtually all new television in 2003, my experience is as skewed as that of those young critics for whom the word “cheesy” usually means “anything in black and white or without digital effects.”  But just as I was about to give up on the idea, I realized it didn’t matter; many of my younger readers may not know of most of these selections, and I suspect even my older readers may be unfamiliar with some of them.  So without further ado, I present my top nine (and a few honorable mentions), listed in chronological order by original air date.

1)  One Step Beyond, “Vanishing Point” (February 23^rd, 1960)

Unlike its contemporary The Twilight Zone, this show featured dramatizations of reports of psychic phenomena and other weird happenings; sometimes the real people who claimed to have experienced them actually appeared on camera in an epilogue.  Regardless of one’s opinion of the veracity of these accounts, they made captivating television and, thanks in large part to the directorial talents of John Newland and haunting music by Harry Lubin, many are as creepy as anything ever to appear on the small screen.  In this one, a man is tried for the murder of his wife after she vanishes without a trace…and after he is acquitted for lack of evidence, his research discovers that she wasn’t the first mysterious disappearance in the house’s history.  HM:  “The Forests of the Night”

2)  Thriller, “The Grim Reaper” (June 13^th, 1961)

This effective tale of a haunted painting stars William Shatner; those who only know him as an action star or an elderly self-parodist may not realize that before Star Trek, he often played psychologically-disturbed young men tormented by internal (or external) demons.  His most famous role of this type was of course in the classic Twilight Zone episode “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet”, but other examples include “Nick of Time” (The Twilight Zone), “Cold Hands, Warm Heart” (The Outer Limits) and “The Hungry Glass” (earlier in this season of Thriller).  Considering that the latter two stories are honorable mentions in this list and the Star Trek episode “Wolf in the Fold” (like “The Grim Reaper”, written by Robert Bloch) has a few horrific moments as well, that actually makes Shatner – an actor not generally associated with horror – the name appearing most often in this column.

3)  The Twilight Zone, “It’s a Good Life” (November 3^rd, 1961)

Though this series scored a very high number of brain-searing episodes, this tale of an amoral six-year-old with godlike powers edges out all the others in my estimation.  Its power to haunt is attested by the fact that there have been at least two attempts at sequels or remakes designed to paste a happy ending onto the horror, as if to exorcise it from the re-makers’ minds.  Honorable mention:  “And When the Sky Was Opened”, based on a Richard Matheson story of the wholly inexplicable and utterly horrifying fate of three astronauts.

4)  The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, “Final Escape” (February 21^st, 1964)

This series was known more for suspense than horror, but sometimes it’s a hard line to draw; the very first episode, “Revenge”, is so shocking it still had impact when remade for the revival series thirty years later.  In my opinion the later, hour-long episodes are not generally as good as the earlier half-hour ones, but this episode about a convict’s attempt to escape from prison is as harrowing as anything which has ever aired.

5)  The Outer Limits, “Wolf 359” (November 7^th, 1964)

This series is remembered especially for its monsters, all of which were created with the minimal special effects available on a television budget of the time.  The creature in this one is literally a hand puppet, but in the context of the story (about a tiny artificial planet haunted by a malevolent spirit-like entity), framed with skillful directing and a creepy Harry Lubin score, you probably won’t care unless you’ve sacrificed your capacity for imagination on the altar of CGI.

6)  Night Gallery, “The Cemetery” (November 8^th, 1969)

Rod Serling did not produce this series (he was only its host and an occasional writer), and it showed; its quality was far below that of The Twilight Zone, and a few episodes are almost unbelievably bad.  This one, however (from the original pilot movie) is not one of them; it stars Roddy McDowell as a young ne’er-do-well who murders his uncle in order to inherit his fortune…only to find that the old man has no intention of staying put in the grave.

7)  Space: 1999, “Dragon’s Domain” (December 5^th, 1975)

As I have explained before, this British series is usually mistaken for science fiction because of its conventional sci-fi trappings such as spaceships and laser guns.  But nearly all of its threats are thinly-disguised supernatural ones; they include a ghost, a vampire, an immortal serial killer, possessing spirits, a cannibal race and even an immense entity clearly inspired by H.P. Lovecraft’s Azathoth.  But it’s the tentacled Lovecraftian horror in this episode that gave a generation of young fans nightmares, and the creature itself is only the most obvious scare in a show that gives frissons from start to finish.

8)  Dead of Night, “Bobby” (March 29^th, 1977)

After Dark Shadows, Dan Curtis went on to produce a number of made-for-TV horror movies (including the pilot for The Night Stalker).  Many people remember Trilogy of Terror, and though the first two stories making up Dead of Night are nothing to write home about, the third part – “Bobby” –  is something else entirely.  Richard Matheson penned this utterly terrifying story of a woman so obsessed with her dead son that she resorts to black magic to get him back, and soon discovers what a truly bad idea that was.

9)  Tales from the Darkside, “The Geezenstacks” (October 26^th, 1986)

Though this series was often creepy or spooky (though many episodes were funny, confusing or just irritating), very few episodes were actually scary; this is one of those few, and in my opinion the scariest one (though it’s one of those that gets scarier the more you think about it and talk about it to friends at 2 AM).  The script was adapted from a story by Fredric Brown (notice how some of these names keep popping up in different columns?) about a family who discovers that the daughter’s dolls seem to be predicting everything that happens to them.  HM: “Inside the Closet”

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Mulberry Street

With sincere affection and admiration for the work of T.S. Geisel; all illustrations done specifically for this presentation by Ricardo Cortés. 

When I first joined the Rescue League
The leaders said to me,
“Marcia, you must open up,
The truth will set you free.”

But when I talked about my life
To the assembled band,
They looked at me and sternly said,
“Your story’s much too bland.

“It just won’t do, your tale so tame.
To fight prostitution you must re-frame.”

So, what can I say
To reporters today?

They all want me to say
That I was “prostituted”
And the money I made
By “exploiters” was looted.
But I walked into hooking
Upon my own feet,
And my usual stroll was
On Mulberry Street.

That’s nothing to tell of,
That won’t make the score…
Just a typical street
And a hard-luck-case whore.

That can’t be my story; their interest will fade.
I’ll say that a PIMP forced me into the trade!
He played on my trust, and he threatened to beat,
And he sent me to turn tricks on Mulberry Street.

Yes, the pimp is just fine,
But his method is weak;
Being talked into hooking
Makes me look far too meek.
The story would really be better, I hope
If the pimp had controlled me by giving me dope.
A dope-addled hooker is something to meet,
Looking for johns out on Mulberry Street!

No, that’s much too mundane…
Why not say he used pain?

Brutal beatings are better;
Give the sadists a treat,
To visualize that
On Mulberry Street.

Hold on a minute!
I just had a brainstorm!

It would really feed their tragedy-hunger
If I claimed that I started out very much younger.

It would be a more pathetic scene
If he turned me out at age thirteen.

Hmmmm…a teenage runaway…

But that whole thing’s been done to death;
The runaway hooker on crystal meth.
If I can’t do better, I’m wasting my breath.

If I ponder this problem, I’m sure I can lick it…
A whole GANG of pimps!  Now there’s the ticket!

I’ll invent one with plenty of power and size:
I was the white victim of forty brown guys.
And then, just to make them a little more vile,
I’ll say they tattooed me in some branding style.

SAY!  That makes a story that no one can beat,
When I say it all happened on Mulberry Street.

But now I don’t know…
It still doesn’t seem right.

Even if I could see fifty clients a night,
Split up so many ways would be income too slight.

It would be worth their fuss
Were there eighty of us!

To provide for that many would take lots of dope;
Half the gang would be needed in order to cope.
I’ll make them drug dealers!  Then some of their stash
Can be used for the hookers who bring them more cash.

But for drug-dealing on that kind of scale,
It would make far more sense if they bought it wholesale.
They’re top-level importers, real kingpins of crime,
And they smuggle in girls at the very same time.

But now there’s a hitch of a whole new order;
Mulberry Street isn’t close to the border.

A trafficking business on that kind of scale
Needs special protection, or else it would fail.

Organized crime will do the trick;
Those big-time gangsters are mighty slick -
And shady lawyers don’t miss a trick.

They know just who to lean on, and just who to pay
To ensure the police will not get in their way.

They’re bribed not to see things that just might look “funny”,
And they stick out their hands for a cut of the money.

Other public officials are on the take, too,
In every town in the Red, White and Blue.

And that is a story that NO ONE can beat
When I say that it happens on every street!

The pimps sell their sex-slaves through ads on Backpage,
And they’re fed on dog food, and are kept in a cage.
And that makes a story that’s really not bad!
But it still could be better.  Suppose that I add…

…GPS trackers placed in the girls’ purses…
A black magician casting curses…
Each girl makes 300 grand a year…
No time for more, the press is here.

I heard my name called
And I felt my heart sink;
As I walked up the steps
I just couldn’t help think,

“There no way that these writers will buy all this bunk!”
As a sex-trade “survivor”, I knew that I stunk.

But they listened intently
To all I averred,
And I saw they believed me…
Yes, every last word.

I was wholly amazed; were they really this dumb?
Were their critical faculties totally numb?
They started applauding; each rose from his seat,
And continued to clap as they stood on their feet.
What a wonderful day!  How it made my heart beat!

And I knew once I learned it through endless repeat,
I’d believe my own story of Mulberry Street.

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Easter 2013

Well pleaseth me the sweet time of Easter
That maketh the leaf and the flower come out.  -  Bertran de Born

As I’ve pointed out before, all of the Christian holidays are merely pagan ones dressed up in a new garb, and though they may have some explanation derived from Christian catechism most of them are still pagan to the core.  This is true of three of them more than any of the others: Halloween is still the Day of the Dead as it has always been; Christmas is still the festival of the reborn sun, celebrated with revelry and song and greenery and gift-giving as it has been for millennia; and Easter is still the observance of rebirth, with Christ standing in for all the vegetation-gods who came before him, Tammuz and Attis and Adonis and Osiris, slain and buried to rise again from the dead.  Just as the dye which colors the shell of an Easter egg has little (if any) effect on the substance of the egg beneath, so it is with the holiday itself; the theological rationalizations and the complex religious pageantry have not changed the day’s deeper meaning one iota, and devout Christians still employ the ancient symbols of flower, hare and egg.  This is why it matters little to me that we observe the holiday on the Christian date rather than the traditional astronomical one; it’s only fitting that I bend the Christian day to my needs just as Christianity bent the ancient pagan holiday to its.

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The Original Easter

Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o’daisies white
Out o’er the grassy lea.  -  Robert Burns

The apparent path of the sun crossed the celestial equator northbound at 11:02 UTC today, making today the first day of astronomical spring for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, and astronomical autumn for those in the Southern.  So if you were wondering why this posted an hour late today, now you have your reason; I couldn’t resist posting at the moment of the equinox.  Spring is my second favorite of seasons, surpassed in my estimation only by autumn; as I age I watch them go buy more and more quickly, flashing by in a rapid succession of days and weeks until they give way all too soon to the extremes of summer or winter…which in turn flash by and give way to the seasons I love, each in its turn, one after another as they have since long before the arrival of Man (and as they will no doubt continue until long after his departure).

The old Germanic name for the holiday, Ostara, is of course the origin for Easter; other Christian festivals adapted from pagan ones share the day but not the name, but in this case it’s the name but not the day!  This is because the Christian rationale for the holiday is tied to the Jewish Passover, and so is calculated in the same way (from the first full moon of spring); in fact, in most European languages the words for Easter and Passover are the same.  I’m glad we retained the older name in English; Ostara was a spring goddess whose name descends from that of the ancient Proto-Indo-European dawn goddess Hausos, of whom the Greek Eos, the Roman Aurora and the Vedic Ushas are all later forms (spring is, after all, the dawn of the year).  There’s a beauty in that continuity:  the timeless celebration of the return of life after winter, with the name of a goddess who has been worshipped in one form or another since many of the most widely-spoken languages in the world were one.

Blessed Be!

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St. Valentine’s Day

Today is Valentine’s Day, or as men like to call it, Extortion Day! - Jay Leno

A few Februaries ago my husband called me from the road one day to tell me what a fantastic wife I was, and how lucky he was to have me; I replied that although I wholly agreed with those statements, I was at a loss to understand what exactly had precipitated them in the middle of an afternoon when he wasn’t even nearby to observe my glory firsthand.  He then explained that all his coworkers were talking about how they were going to catch hell from their wives for not being home on Valentine’s Day, and how their gifts were going to have to be that much more expensive to make up for it; this reminded him what a rational woman he had married, and he felt moved to express his gratitude.

Though Valentine’s Day is not one of the governmental or artificial holidays for which I have a strong aversion, it might as well be; as I explained two years ago it’s nearly as old as Christmas, and its origins are just as pagan and every bit as dark.  But from the time of its repurposing as a celebration of romantic love in the late 14^th century, it has become steadily more commercial; the first mass-produced greeting cards were valentines, and in the 1950s merchants began to market it as an occasion for giving flowers, chocolates, etc.  Then in the 1980s, jewelers convinced American women that they “deserved” diamond jewelry on the day; at that rate it’s about time for another escalation, and I shudder to think what may be next (expensive “romantic” vacations, perhaps?)  I’ve told every man in my life the same thing about the occasion: don’t buy into the hype.  While I like getting thoughtful cards and might appreciate a small gift or being taken to dinner, I only want those if they’re heartfelt and freely given.  An obligatory “gift” of a certain expected value which must be presented at a certain time in order to retain a woman’s sexual favors is not a love offering, but rather a whore’s fee.  And while I obviously have absolutely nothing against that, I prefer for it to be an honest and consensual arrangement mutually agreed upon by two adults, rather than a coercive charade designed to mask the transactional nature of a sexual relationship.

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Mardi Gras 2013

Mardi Gras is the love of life. It is the harmonic convergence of our food, our music, our creativity, our eccentricity, our neighborhoods, and our joy of living.  -  Chris Rose, 1 Dead in Attic

It’s just not possible to explain Mardi Gras to those who have never lived in the New Orleans area, because they absolutely will not get it.  It’s not simply a matter of their never having experienced it, because mere attendance won’t put one into the proper state of mind; I daresay I could sit on a Vieux Carré balcony on Fat Tuesday, guessing whether each person who passed below was a local or a visitor, and achieve over 90% accuracy.  It’s not simply that the visitors are the ones who are either stiff as boards or wildly out of control, nor the fact that most of them don’t wear costumes (I rarely did, either), nor the fact that most of the really obnoxious and/or disgusting drunks are hundreds or thousands of kilometers from home.  All of those things are merely symptoms of the same general aura of Not-Getting-It-ness which manifests itself either in the belief that the holiday is just another excuse to get totally bombed out of one’s skull, or in that ultimate statement of Carnival Cluelessness, “How can a woman expose herself for a string of plastic beads?”  Though the festival has a Christian excuse, it is (like Christmas) wholly pagan; indeed, much of its symbolism and customs have come down through the centuries from the Roman Saturnalia and even older celebrations, and Yule gives way seamlessly to Carnival on King Day.  Carnival is also like Christmas in another important way; it is not a day but a whole season, and having the right spirit is far more important than the observation of any single ritual or combination of traditions.  A person who goes through the motions during Yuletide but doesn’t have the “Christmas spirit” will not have a true experience of the festival, and the exact same thing is true of Mardi Gras.  In a way, the spirit of Mardi Gras is the spirit of New Orleans, and anyone who is unwilling or unable to appreciate her style will never, ever be able to appreciate her signature holiday.

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Oimelc

As the light lengthens, so the cold strengthens.  -  English folk saying

This day has a number of names; to the Celts it was Oimelc (“ewe’s milk”) or Imbolc (“in the belly”), both referring to the fact that ewes are heavily pregnant by this time of year and will soon lamb; in Christianized Ireland it became St. Brigit’s Day in honor of the goddess of healing, fire and smithcraft who (like so many other pagan gods) was made into a saint in order to convert her worshippers.  The association with fire survived when the day was celebrated as Candlemas throughout most of Christendom, and the belief that the day could be used as an inverse weather predictor was brought to the New World by German immigrants and survives in the modern tradition of Groundhog Day.

Though the old European tradition saw this as the first day of spring, that’s rarely true in central North America; where I live February is often the coldest month, and the lowest temperature I’ve ever recorded here was in February.  So though the folk saying in my epigram was perhaps meant to apply to January, it usually holds true well into February for our continental climate (though not this year, I’m afraid; the signs point to an early spring, which is bad if we get another cold snap in late March or early April as sometimes happens).  As I explained last year, we celebrate the holiday with a feast whose main course is a big pot of chicken and andouille gumbo; if you’d like to make some yourself, I shared my sister’s peerless recipe last year (complete with photos to illustrate technique).

I pray that all my readers, no matter what your individual beliefs, find renewal in your lives at this time; I ask that negative things die away like weeds in winter, and that positive things appear and grow for you like leaves in the spring.  Blessed Be!

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Epiphany

The richest gifts we can bestow are the least marketable. - Henry D. Thoreau

January 6^th means many different things to different people in different parts of the world.  In Western Christian tradition it is the Epiphany, the day on which the Magi are supposed to have brought gifts to the infant Jesus; because of this Christmas gift-giving was shifted to this date in the Dark Ages and remained so until the Reformation, when it shifted back to Christmas in all but the most staunchly Catholic countries (namely Spain and Italy).  As I explained in my first column for the holiday, children in Spanish-speaking countries still receive their gifts from Los Tres Reyes, for whom they leave out their shoes on Twelfth Night.  Italian children also found their gifts this morning, but there the traditional gift-giver is a witch named Befana, a modern form of the Roman goddess Strenia (who in Greece was known as Hecate).

In French tradition, today is the beginning of the carnival season, which extends until Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras), the day before Ash Wednesday; in New Orleans it is the day we traditionally take down our Christmas trees and start eating king cake (though I’ve noticed some creep back toward New Year’s Day among the hasty).  Due to an early paschal full moon, Mardi Gras will fall quite early this year, on February 12^th; carnival is thus barely over a month long and the celebrations will therefore be relatively concentrated.

In Russia, today is Christmas Eve because the Russian Orthodox Church still uses the Julian calendar with its extra leap day in three out of four centenary years.  Their traditional gift-giver is Grandfather Frost (usually accompanied by his granddaughter, the Snow Maiden); during communist rule he began to bring gifts on (Gregorian) New Year’s Eve because the celebration of Christmas (on any date) was strongly discouraged, but since the fall of the Soviet Union the gifting date seems to vary by region or even by family, ranging from December 25^th all the way to January 7^th.  Perhaps in a generation or so it will settle down to a consensus, but given the circumstances it isn’t surprising things are in flux right now.

So, to my Italian readers, Buona Epifania!  To my Spanish-speaking readers, Feliz Día de Los Reyes! To my Ethiopian readers, Melkam Gena!  And to my Russian readers, S Roždestvom!

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My Favorite Christmas Things

Have a holly jolly Christmas,
It’s the best time of the year.
I don’t know if there’ll be snow,
But have a cup of cheer.  -  Johnny Marks

Since y’all seemed to enjoy my Halloween favorites column, I thought a companion piece for Christmas would be in order.  Though it’s only my second favorite holiday, it’s my husband’s favorite and since it is the world’s most popular celebration the activities are extended for a much longer time and there’s a lot more “stuff” to choose from for this list.  For me, Halloween and Christmas are the two high points of a long festive season which begins with the autumnal equinox and ends with Mardi Gras, with a sort of encore at Easter.  But the stretch of time between Halloween and Christmas Eve, by virtue of being bookended by my two favorite days in all the year, is the best.

My Favorite Christmas Songs

Some people love Christmas music, and some hate it; I react to it as I react to nearly any music, loving some and hating some and tolerating the rest.  I don’t like sappy or overly sentimental songs, nor those in the “wink wink, nudge nudge” school such as “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”; bad and/or forced rhyming irritates me in any song, which is why I have a strong aversion for “Winter Wonderland” (bluebird/new bird and snowman/“No, man”; really?) And the only Beach Boys song I hate more than the grating “Little Saint Nick” is the truly execrable “Kokomo”.  Among traditional Christmas carols my favorites are those in minor keys:  “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen” and “Carol of the Bells”  are especial favorites, as is the haunting “Veni, Veni”, (performed here in both English and the original Latin by one of my favorite artists, Enya).  Of modern Christmas songs, my hands-down favorite is “Holly Jolly Christmas” performed by the inimitable Burl Ives:

My Favorite Christmas Shows

The video above contains clips from “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, one of the earliest Christmas specials from the “Golden Age” of such presentations in the 1960s and ‘70s.  It’s among my favorites, though it’s exceeded in my estimation by “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” from the same producers, an origin story which depicts the young Santa Claus as a libertarian who holds that people have the right and duty to disobey stupid laws:

But of all the stand-alone shows and special episodes of series, my absolute favorite has to be “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, as those of you who remember “My Favorite Short Films” had probably already guessed.  Chuck Jones was better at translating Dr. Seuss’ bizarre whimsy into animation than any other director, the choices of Boris Karloff as narrator and Thurl Ravenscroft  as singer of the Grinch song were nothing short of inspired, and Seuss’ words, silly as they are, presented the meaning and moral of the story without spelling it out in words of one syllable.

My Favorite Christmas Movies

There are probably hundreds of Christmas movies, a number of which are regarded as classics.  But while I do enjoy It’s a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34^th Street, there are only two without which my holiday season would be incomplete.  One of these, which we watch every Christmas Eve, is the Patrick Stewart version of A Christmas Carol; though it does have a few flaws it’s the only version of the story in which I can see Scrooge as a completely real person, and his conversion as both natural and believable.  The other is A Christmas Story, which I had never even heard of before I met my husband.  It’s one of his favorites and soon became one of mine; in fact, it’s usually the film which kicks off our Yuletide viewing season.  The plot is very simple: a young boy in the late 1930s schemes to get a BB gun for Christmas.  But that brief description does the film absolutely no justice; in fact, no description I could write could do so.  Do yourself a favor:  just see it.  Trust me.

My Yuletide Schedule

Regular readers know that I am a creature of habit, and like to do things on a very regular schedule (as long as I get to set that schedule myself).  I generally start thinking about Christmas presents in June or July, keeping my eyes open for fun little “stocking stuffers” and even for full presents; this year my husband found the perfect gift for one of our friends way back in March, and it sat in my secret gift stash until I wrapped it a few weeks ago.  Once Halloween is over the stores all put up their Christmas displays these days, completely ignoring Thanksgiving; I refuse to acknowledge this premature celebration, beginning only on the traditional American date, the day after Thanksgiving.  That’s the date on which we tromp off into the forest, find a suitable tree, and bring it home to decorate.  That day or the next we do our Christmas cards and I prepare soup stock:

Stock:  4 quarts (liters) water; 10 chicken bouillon cubes; ½ teaspoon (2.5 ml) each salt and pepper; ¼ teaspoon (1.25 ml) each thyme, sage and MSG; 1 teaspoon (5 ml) each tarragon, paprika and granulated garlic.  Combine all ingredients in large stock pot, add turkey carcass (after removing as much remaining meat as you can) plus neck and giblets.  Bring to boil over medium heat, then reduce heat and simmer until all the meat has fallen from the bones, stirring occasionally and pulling the bones out as they become clean (you’ll probably have to pick bits of meat from them by hand as you go).  Once all the bones are out remove from heat, allow stock to cool and ladle it into quart (liter)-sized containers.  If using glass jars, make sure you leave expansion space before freezing or else they will break.  It takes a few days for one of these to thaw in the refrigerator, a few hours at room temperature.

Soup:  1 jar stock; 2 quarts (liters) water; 5 chicken bouillon cubes; ¼ teaspoon (1.25 ml) each salt & pepper; ¹/₈  teaspoon (0.625 ml) each thyme, sage & MSG; ½ teaspoon (2.5 ml) each tarragon, paprika & granulated garlic.  Combine all ingredients in large stock pot, bring to boil over medium-high heat, then add 2 cups (500 ml) of egg noodles, reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes.

I of course do this again on Boxing Day with the remains of the Christmas turkey; on New Years’ Day we generally have ham (saving the bone for split pea soup later in the week).  All of the feasts are accompanied by traditional side dishes and homemade bread, with seasonal desserts (and yes, I render my own pumpkin from the Halloween jack-o-lantern and make my own mince meat, too).  It’s a lot of work for one woman, but I take housewifery as seriously as I took harlotry.  Christmas Eve and New Years’ Eve meals vary, but the days after those feasts are always leftovers.  Sometimes we open one present each on Christmas Eve, but that varies; one thing that doesn’t is that the tree stands until King Day, when we have our first king cake of the season.

My Favorite Christmas Foods

Beside the stuffed turkey, candied yams, corn pudding, mince meat pie and plum pudding of the Christmas dinner, the season is full of delicious foods.  Just after Thanksgiving I make two fruitcakes so they’ll have time to age, and during Yuletide I generally prepare panettone several times (it’s an Italian brioche flavored with orange and nutmeg, which my husband loves); then in the week before the holiday I make cookies, fudge and other treats so as to make up tins for all the people we regularly do business with.  But none of these are my favorites, though I do enjoy all of them; of all the foods usually associated with the season I would have to say my own favorites are spiced Christmas teas, gingerbread (I sometimes make a house), fruit and chocolate combinations, those Danish butter cookies that come in tins and egg nog, especially that made by our local dairy.

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