CHRISTMAS’S LONG REMEMBERED

Sadly my parents have gone now my Dad when I was only twenty one and my Mum 15 years later but they live on in my memories especially at Christmas.
I know that for many Christmas is a nightmare time of year but for me I only have the very best memories of it and many of them.
My dad always said after he’d finished decorating the living room, the odour of emulsion still noticeable “there will be no drawing pins in this ceiling come Christmas”. Of course come December the ceiling was covered with garlands, bells, stars, foil drops with baubles at the end, balloons, snow men, angels and Santa’s.
Picture were removed and replaced with something more festive, like huge stars or fresh holly and Strings were strung along the walls for the cards to hang on them.
In one corner on a table stood Santa Claus with his cotton wool beard and red crepe paper suit all the more exciting as we children knew he was stuffed full with sweets.
In another corner stood the tree, a tree of epic proportions so tall that the top 14 inches has to cut off in order to get the fairy on. Every branch was full to breaking point with countless baubles, parcels, bells, crackers and tinsels of every colour and beneath it the ever growing pile of presents.
With the decorations being my Dad’s field of expertise it was left to my mum to come into her own with everything else.
She would remove the curtains and nets and either replace them with clean or wash and return the originals.
Everything would get the spring clean treatment the sideboard would be adorned with the best linen runner and all the tables would have their own festive doily.
The fruit bowl was filled to overflowing with bananas, Satsuma’s or tangerines and another one of Brazil nuts, almonds, hazel nuts and walnuts.
There was even a Chamber pot decorated with sprigs of holly on the sideboard full of Christmas fare. Smaller bowls would appear over the Christmas period containing peanuts or dates or sugared almonds or chocolate raisins.
Come the day itself presents were placed by the chair that the recipients were sitting in, when we were younger obviously our presents mysteriously arrived at the foot of the bed in a pillowcase left for the purpose but as we got older we joined the adults for present opening.
Mums gifts were always piled so high she always had to sit on the sofa in order to fit all her presents on the seat next to her.
She always still had half of them left to open long after the rest of us had finished.
This was the time for us younger family members to examine our gifts more closely while my dad would sit smiling sagely in his chair puffing on his pipe.


THE LEGEND OF ST NICHOLAS THE RED SUITED SANTA

Part one – Genesis of the Gift Giver

During this narrative I will be answering the eternal question which is all pervading during the festive season namely does Santa Claus really exist?
Obviously the answer we want is a resounding yes and so it will be.
Secondly I will be exploding the popular myth that it was the Coca Cola Company who were responsible for the red suited image of Santa.

St Nicholas is known by many different names around the world and he undoubtedly a legend.
The legend began in the 4th century A.D. in what is now Demre in modern Turkey.
Nicholas was a Christian priest and was born in 280 A.D. in the Lycian city of Patara near the ancient city of Myra where he later became Bishop.

Nicholas was the son of a wealthy man and when he inherited his father’s wealth he traveled the land helping the poor and sick and he was greatly admired for his piety and kindness.
He became the subject of many legends for example he was said to have brought a dead child back to life and he once saved the life of a prisoner by putting himself between the condemned man and his executioner also he is said to have stopped a storm in order to save three sailors from drowning.
But the most enduring and perhaps the best known of the Nicholas legends was when he secretly left golden dowries at the house of a poor man who was on the verge of selling his three daughters into slavery or prostitution.
The dowries meant the three poor sisters could be married.
This remarkable event has led to a tradition we still celebrate to this day as the sisters had left there stockings by the fire to dry and it was in the stocking where Nicholas placed the gold.
Despite his many secret late night visits to the homes of the poor and needy of the city he is forever known as the gift giver of Myra.

In the year 303 A.D., Diocletian the Roman emperor commanded all citizens of the Roman Empire to worship him as a god.
Nicholas and his fellow Christians believed in but one god and in all conscience could not obey the Emperor.
In his Anger Diocletian threatened the Christians with imprisonment if they did not comply.
Many Christians including Nicholas defied The Emperor and were imprisoned.
Nicholas was confined to a small cell for almost ten years and suffered greatly but never wavered in his beliefs.
It was In 313, when Constantine replaced Diocletian to become the first Christian Emperor and Constantine’s first act was the release of the Christians and upon his release Nicholas returned to his post as Bishop of Myra where he continued his good works until his death on December 6, 343.
On his death he was sainted to become St Nicholas the patron saint of Children and sailors.


FIRST WORKING CHRISTMAS

In the early seventies I was living in an area of Stevenage called Marymead where my mother was the warden at a block of sheltered accommodation flats for the elderly.
I attended Shephallbury School nearby which I left in the May and I started my first job later that same month.
My job was working as a trainee groundsman with the Hertfordshire County Council grounds maintenance team and the depot was in the north of Stevenage old town paying the grand sum of £10.99 per week before stoppages.
Although the depot was some distance from where I lived it was never an issue as there was a very good bus service.
In the November of that same year my family moved house from Marymead on one side of town to the Hyde on the other, this point will become more significant later in the tale.
The house move didn’t effect my getting to and from work as Stevenage corporation as it was then known operated flat fare buses operating on circular routes so I still got the same bus but from a different stop and the price was the same this also will prove significant later on.
As I said this was my first year at work and I had my first Christmas party to look forward to.
It was on the last day before we broke for the Christmas holiday and we had a little party in the yard where a little Christmas cheer was imbibed and a drink or two were consumed.
Now I was only sixteen and I had only had very limited experience of alcohol and I got well and truly bladdered on whisky Mac, cider and something unpronounceable from Yugoslavia.
One of the guys gave me a lift into the town centre and from there I caught my usual bus.
In my drunken state I managed to climb the stairs to the top deck and the bus set off filled with heavily laden Christmas shoppers and a drunken trainee groundsman.
I must have drifted off on the journey and I suddenly came to and looking out the window recognized a familiar site and I got off the bus.
I headed off up the road in the direction of home wishing all and sundries a merry Christmas as I went.
I entered through the main doors to the flats and passed the Christmas tree in the foyer and headed straight for flat number one.
At the door I fumbled for my key and presented it to the lock, it wouldn’t fit.
I peered closely at it and it was definitely my door key so I tried to put it in the lock again, still it wouldn’t fit.
Suddenly the door opened and a stranger looked out at me “Can I help?” she asked.
“Ah my name is Paul and I don’t live here anymore do I?”
The lady, who was the new warden, agreed with me that I no longer lived there so I wished her a happy Christmas and made my way back to the foyer were there was a pubic telephone with a large Perspex dome over it.
My intention was to phone for a taxi but rummaging in my pockets I discovered I had no money for the taxi or indeed to make a phone call then as I tried to duck under the Perspex hood I tripped over my own feet and fell into the Christmas tree which ended up on top of me.
The lady who now lived at no 1 heard the commotion and came to investigate and to my surprise thought it very amusing to find a drunken teenager wearing the Christmas tree.
The new warden phoned for a taxi for me and even gave me the money for the fare.
That was real Christmas spirit and I have never forgotten her kindness and tolerance and try to keep that same spirit in my own heart at Christmas.


A QUESTION OF POOH

Its Christmas time again, as if anyone could fail to notice.
Even without leaving my house I can see more than half a dozen house decorated to the hilt.
Every coloured light imaginable, Santa’s on the roof or climbing a ladder, sleighs, elves, snowmen, bells, stars baubles and last but by no means least standing almost four feet high that perennial favourite Winnie the Pooh.
Wait a minute though you might well be saying what does Pooh have to do with Christmas? Well every other house seems to have one so there must be something in it.
I don’t recall mention of him in the bible and in the many nativity plays I have seen over the years he was conspicuous by his absence and although there is a donkey its not Eeyore.
The stable did not house Piglet and the wise men did not travel from the east with Tigger baring gifts of Huney.
Nor in any of the Christmas traditions around the world is there a single reference to Pooh as one of Santa’s helpers.
There’s Black Peter, The Jolly Elf even the devil figure Krampus but no Pooh but people still give him pride of place on their lawns at Christmas.
Go figure.


THE LEGEND OF ST NICHOLAS THE RED SUITED SANTA

Part two – Growth and Prohibition

In the eyes of the Catholic church, a saint is a person who’s lived such a holy life that even after death and their ascent to heaven they are still able to help the earth bound souls.
It was believed that the white bearded St Nicholas clad in his red bishop’s robes continued to help the less fortunate through his gift giving.
So In the years following his death the St Nicholas legend grew.

As Christianity flourished within the Holy Roman Empire so did St Nicholas and by the year 450 many churches in the Eastern provinces of the empire in Asia Minor and Greece were being named to honor him and by the year 800 he was the most popular saint in the Eastern Catholic Church.

Such was his growing popularity as a Saint and his high regard amongst Christians that his mortal remains, which had been held in his church in Myra since his death, were stolen by a band of Italian sailors in 1087 A.D. and taken to Italy where they remain to this day, housed in the Basilica de St. Nicola in Bari.

The St Nicholas legend spread ever wider around the world and in 13th century France December sixth became the feast of St Nicholas or Bishop Nicholas Day
And as the his fame spread north his red bishops robe was replaced by more practical suit of clothes, still red, but trimmed with white fur and his bishops mitre was replaced by red fur trimmed hat.
Then By the end of the 15th century, St Nicholas was with the exception of Jesus and Mary the most popular religious figure in the Christian world.

Even after the protestant reformation when the worship of saints and relics was discouraged the people kept faith with Nicholas.

When in the 17th century the puritan Oliver Cromwell became Lord Protector of England he banned anything about Christmas the might be construed as enjoyable.
He banned any kind of feasting, drinking or dancing he even banned the hanging of holly.
In America the puritans went further by banning even the mention of St. Nicholas as well as gift-giving, candle-lighting and carol-singing.
But this only served to make people believe in St Nicholas even more


THINGS THAT GO BUMP, ELECTRICKERY AND OTHER DISASTERS

It was in the early hours of Christmas morning when I was awoken by a loud crash from the direction of the chimney breast.
I look arround and my wife who is a very light sleeper hadn’t stirred.
Now given the time of the year and the time of night someone younger or more impressionable might have thought it was Father Christmas about his work in the chimney.
However being a grizzled old cynic I thought it more likely to be either a burglar or perhaps the wind blowing over my chimney or even subsidence.
I lay awake for about ten minutes trying to work out what the noise was and hearing no further noises I decided it must have been a dream and went back to sleep.

A few hours later awoken suddenly again this time by three excitement crazed children dragging their sacks of presents behind them on thing was for sure there would be no return to sleep after this disturbance.
When the children had opened all their stocking presents they rushed off downstairs for breakfast leaving a scene of devastation behind them.

After breakfast I went back upstairs and showered and then went into the bedroom to dress for the day.
On opening the wardrobe door I discovered the source of the crash that had woken me up several hours earlier.
The rail in the wardrobe had collapsed and all the clothes were in a heap at the bottom on top of the shoes.
“So it wasn’t a dream then” I said to myself.
Five minutes later and wearing a slightly creased shirt I made my way back downstairs to what sounded like bedlam.

The rest of the morning went according to plan; the children opened their main presents from under the tree and disappeared off to play with their favourites.

By twelve o’clock the dining table was laid complete with my late mother’s best table cloth, Christmas napkins, party favours, best china, glassware and the brand new table centre while emanating from the kitchen was the sound of steam rattling the saucepan lids together with the mouth watering aroma of roasting Turkey.
In the lounge my wife was holding court with myself and her parents looking on as she was opening the few presents that still remained.
I left the group to go and boil the kettle for a drink as I entered the kitchen I looked at the electric cooker and there was one ring lit with nothing on it so I checked the other rings to make sure that the saucepan with the potatoes had heat under it which it did.
So I went to switch off the vacant ring only to discover it was already switched off.
Now there had been a little water spilled on the hob from where one of the pans had begun to boil over so I mopped up the spillage and using reverse psychology I turned the rogue ring on believing this would in fact turn it off, it didn’t it just tripped the breaker in the meter cupboard instead.
I went to the cupboard and reset the breaker and it tripped immediately.
So then we decided to wait for ten minutes before we repeated the exercise which ended with the same result.
It was decided that we could not use the cooker as it was just too dangerous.
With my wife almost in tears I said “it’s not the end of the world darling, and nobody died”.
So with true Dunkirk spirit we made the best of a bad situation.
As luck would have it the Turkey was cooked as was the stuffing, sausages and the Potatoes where boiled.
The remaining vegetables we were able to cook in the microwave and all we had to forgo were the roast potatoes and parsnips.
Now it wasn’t the most successful Christmas lunch we ever had but it could have been a lot worse.
“Bad things always come in three’s” I think we all thought it but equally all refrained from saying it out loud.

The next day, Sunday, passed off without incident for us anyway, my wife had to hit the stores in the Boxing Day sales to choose a new cooker.

Its late in the evening when, sitting down in front of the TV we see the news for the first time that day and we here the dreadful news about the Tsunami for the first time and even then it didn’t even hint at just how big a tragedy it really was.
Two hundred and fifty thousand dead in a heartbeat from Indonesia to sir Lanka and beyond and still counting.

We had our new cooker delivered on Thursday 30th December we were inconvenienced for five whole days.
Five days before normality was restored to our household.
Many of The survivors of the Tsunami will never have their lives restored to what they knew before Boxing Day.

Count your blessing, and make the best of what you have because it’s a lot more than many.


CHRISTMAS MOURNING

The Ronettes where playing on the radio, It was Christmas morning.
The children were rushing about like they’d had a caffeine injection; excitedly showing off there new toys while my wife was wrestling a turkey into the oven.
As I sat in my arm chair sipping my coffee my mind drifted back to the previous week.

The wipers swished rhythmically as they cleared the lightly beating sleet that was spattering the windscreen and the heater struggled to demist the inside.
All this was of no consequence as the car wasn’t actually moving.
It was the last Friday before Christmas and I was sat in a jam in the evening rush hour.
Half an hour I‘d been stuck in it and I was still only half a mile from where I worked.
I had time to take in the colourful and sometimes overly extravagant festive decoration on the houses which contrasted sharply with the meagre and tired looking display put on by the local council.
After another half an hour I reached the main road.
Nothing to see here through the wet steamy windows except the red tail lights of other frustrated drivers.
Twenty minutes after that accompanied by some over cheerful DJ on the radio I could see the roundabout.
The sleety rain was falling harder now and it was difficult to see through the murkiness.
After crawling to the roundabout I could just make out a flashing blue light which I suspected had nothing to do with Christmas.
As I got closer I could see it was attached to a police car which was blocking my exit.
Without any explanation the police had closed the road.
So I was faced with a choice, go back the way I came or take the exit off the roundabout which would take me in the opposite direction from where I lived.
I did the latter.
By the time I eventually arrived home I was in a black mood.
I shouted at the kids, moaned at my wife and tried to kick the cat.
My mood was not improved when my half cremated dinner was removed from the oven and what had once been gravy was now only a stain on the plate.
The weekend was spent doing all the pre Christmas stuff with the family and all too soon it was over.
When I returned to work on Monday I related my tale of woe to my workmate’s and we all had a big laugh about it.
Except for Harry, who lived locally, he just looked down at the ground grave faced.
Later, when we were alone, he told me the road was closed because a young woman had been knocked down and killed.
I was dumbstruck, I had no words just a feeling of shame at my selfishness.
A week before Christmas, she had died.
While I was cursing at being inconvenienced, ranting at being stuck in a jam.
A poor young woman lay dead in the rain soaked street.
Somebody’s wife and lover, also a daughter and mother and she was mourned by two children, a sister and a brother.

The sound of church Bells ringing out brought me back to Christmas morning and my family.
But I still couldn’t help thinking of other families for whom Christmas morning would be less joyous.
With the bells still ringing out I gave thanks for being alive.
Also I vowed to be more patient, more tolerant and more understanding in the future.
But I probably won’t keep it.


THE LEGEND OF ST NICHOLAS THE RED SUITED SANTA

Part three – The literal St Nicholas

After the demise of the puritans in Europe and America the St Nicholas legend went from strength to strength.
He has over recent centuries become known by different names for example in Holland he is known as Sinter Klaas and when the Dutch arrived in New York or New Amsterdam as it was then the red suited Sinter Klaas arrived with them but the name has since become Americanized into Santa Claus.

The first time the Name Santa Claus appeared in print was in 1773 but the first description of the most traditional image of Santa Claus was by popular author Washington Irving In his History of New York, published in 1809.

But he was finally immortalized along with his eight reindeer in 1823 in the poem “A Visit from Saint Nicholas” more commonly known to all of us as “The Night Before Christmas” written by Clement Clarke Moore an Episcopal minister.
Moore, who wrote the poem for his three daughters, depicted Santa Claus as a "right jolly old elf" with a supernatural ability to ascend up a chimney with a simple nod of his head.

The familiar round jolly white bearded image of Santa Claus was definitively illustrated by the political cartoonist Thomas Nast for Christmas issues of Harper's Weekly magazine in 1881.
It was Nast who revealed the details of Santa's workshop at the North Pole and alerted the world to the existence of what have become known as the naughty and nice lists.

Haddon Sundblom further reinforced Santa’s image when, in 1931, he drew a representation of the jolly red faced Saint for the Coca-Cola Company as part of their advertising campaign which was so successful that he has been used every year since.

Through literary references and descriptions of Christmas the legend of St Nicholas spread and became ingrained in all of us and Along the way the legend of the gift giver became intertwined with other country’s myths and folk lore figures and St Nicholas became known by a wide variety of names.
As well as Santa Claus or Sinter Klaas he is named Father Christmas, Kris Kringle, Père Noël, der Weinachtsmann and Papa Noel to name but a few.

So I can say to you all with hand on heart to young and old wherever you might live there is most definitely a Santa Claus.


A WINTER’S TALE

It was in sixteenth century Germany, or so the legend has it, in a town called Wittenberg in Saxony-Anhalt.
That the founder of the protestant church, Martin Luther, was the first to decorate a Christmas tree with lighted candles.
Apparently when he was walking home through the forest one dark and frosty winter’s night, his attention was drawn to the myriad of bright stars that he could see sparkling and twinkling through the branches of the fir trees.
The beauty of the nights display had a great effect on him and he proceeded home very excited.
When he arrived home he relayed to his family what he had seen and what had excited him so and almost immediately he set about decorating his Christmas tree with candles and then to his families surprise he lit them.
Goodness only knows what his family thought, that he was possessed possibly.
And what of the other people in the town what did they think of him and his antics.
It probably caused more consternation than the reformation.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 04.12.2008

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