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Wednesday, December 23, 2015

TRADITIONAL CHRISTMAS: JERKY, GROG & REINDEER DROPPINGS BY SHAYNA MATTHEWS

                                     
       TRADITIONAL CHRISTMAS: JERKY, GROG & REINDEER DROPPINGS,
                                                   BY SHAYNA MATTHEWS

There's nothing like the anticipation of Christmas morning to torment a child. I should know, my parents certainly got their jollies from dragging out Christmas morning. Up before dawn in my flannel nightgown, I was bouncing, eager to rip into that tree. Of course, I had to wait. Dad had to make his coffee, then drink a few cups, slowly, while Mom made iced cinnamon rolls. Now, any other day of the year cinnamon rolls are fine and dandy with me. Christmas morning, however, was a different story. Fifteen minutes for them to bake, then cool enough to eat? Come on, Mom! I amused myself by looking outside, anywhere but at the stack of presents under that twinkling tree! - Santa's reindeer made their presence known in our driveway every year. Having left a bag of corn for the reindeer, I found empty cobs with deer tracks, a few missed kernels, and reindeer poop (yes...reindeer poop!) in the gravel driveway. I suppose when reindeer eat that much corn, it's only natural to let nature take over before they fly to the next house!

My Dad explained to me that Santa gets mighty tired of milk and cookies all the time, he appreciates an especially festive offering on Christmas Eve. I always left smoked bologna and cheese, and a hefty jug of grog. Funny, Santa left me letters, but by the end of the letter, his spelling was practically unlegible! I don't know why he always told me that I was a good girl, but to eat my vegetables. Does Santa really care that much about vegetables? (The Easter Bunny always told me the same thing, but he eats carrots, not cheese, grog and bologna).

When my father had enjoyed two or three cups of steaming procrastination, and the cinnamon rolls were eaten (gobbled may be a more appropriate term) - it was finally time. First on the list was always the stocking. I don't know what it is about a sock stuffed with goodies, but it's among my favorite Christmas memories. (Aside from Santa's grog-induced letters).
There are many legends that arise from the tradition of the Christmas stocking. My favorite tells the tale of a once-wealthy merchant down on his luck, with three daughters of age to wed. Too poor to offer a dowry, but too proud to accept charity, the merchant despaired over his daughters' happiness. One Christmas Eve, the daughters, having come in cold and wet from their chores, hung their socks by the fire to dry. Little did they know, St. Nicholas heard about the merchant's predictament. That night he rode into town on a magnificent white steed, and tossed three golden balls down the chimney. Inexplicably, the golden orbs fell into each girl's sock. Christmas morning was met with much rejoicing. Each daughter married happily, and as the story spread, children began hanging their socks by the fireplace in hopes St. Nicholas and his white horse would ride by and bless them with gifts, too. The gold balls in the story were quickly replaced with traditional oranges. No one could replicate a golden ball for a gift, but the round fruit of the same color was always a welcome treat.
                                    
Our tree was always decorated with handmade ornaments, baked from a mixture of either clay or a type of cookie-like dough, rolled into shapes, painted and laquered. I still have the few surviving ornaments on my tree to this day. One year, I specifically recall our choice in garland. Barring the tinsel, we chose to string popcorn and cranberries, following another old tradition in decorating with what you had. Now, bear in mind, the tree was always standing in the corner of the main room, opposite my bedroom door. Awake that night, counting each dragging minute and listening for the sound of tinkling reindeer bells, I heard something unexpected. I could not figure what it could be, for I had not heard the sound before. It was, for lack of a better term, rather like a soft "chewing" coming from the corner of the next room. By morning, since I could not leave my room to investigate (everyone knows Santa won't leave the good stuff behind if you try to peek) my nerves were gnawed raw. Come to find out, my nerves weren't the only thing gnawed raw that Christmas Morning. There, perched in a branch of the tree, sat a fat mouse, feasting on popcorn and berries. That was the last time we tried that particular Christmas tradition.

Written by Shayna Matthews, author of "The Legend of Venture Canyon" and "A Spot in the Woods" from the anthology "Memories from Maple Street, U.S.A, Leaving Childhood Behind".

What of you? What are your favorite traditions? Or, perhaps you make your own family traditions to follow?

10 comments:

  1. Gunslinger, I suddenly understand where your nuttiness comes from. :-D

    File the story about the golden balls under "now you know." I'd never heard the story before, but it's such a wonderful tale. Thanks for sharing it.

    You and yours have a wonderful Christmas! (Might want to surrender the shootin' irons for at least one day. "Peace on Earth; goodwill toward men" and all, you know. ;-) )

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    1. Ha! Thanks for the laugh, Kathleen. I darn near laughed 'til I cried. You're right, I blame much of my "nuttiness" as you call it, on my Dad lol. Just the tip of the iceburg, my friend. ;-)

      I love old legends about various traditions, the stocking story is definitely one of my favorites.

      I reckon we can lay the shootin' irons down for one day, right? Have a beautiful, blessed Christmas, Kathleen!

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  2. What a fun childhood you had, cups of procrastination and all! When my grandkids were little we put out reindeer food; raw oats with glitter. (The glitter made it easier to see in the grass) Once they were in bed reindeer poop was tossed on the grass; aka: chocolate covered raisins. Love the stocking legend. Merry Christmas!!

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    1. Ah, yes, cups of procrastination. Diana, I am so glad to know I'm not the only one who was raised with reindeer poop in the yard on Christmas day! The glitter is a new one on me, though. Such fun traditions! Now my husband and I look forward to sharing these traditions with our son. Thank you for commenting, I wish you a bright and Merry Christmas!

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  3. We mustn't forget the Christmas mice. What a fun story, Shayna. Thank you for sharing your memory, which seems to translate across generations. Doris McCraw/Angela Raines-author

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    1. Merry Christmas, Doris! Thank you for reading, so glad you enjoyed my old memories. Ahh, yes-the Christmas mouse...that little guy defied the line about "not a creature was stirring" that year.

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  4. For some reason when I read one of your stories about your childhood,Punky Brewster comes to mind,I do not know why. I guess I envision you as a young spitfire full of energy a bit spunky or cheeky. Loved the Christmas story. All I can really remember is that in the 60's mom brought home a silver tree and it had a little wheel that turned round and round displaying different colors on the tree as the wheel turned. I'd sit for hours watching the colors turn, trying to envision my Christmas gifts. Merry Christmas Shayna. Enjoy passing all of these wonderful traditions on to your little one. Kids make Christmas magical.


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    1. LOL Barb! Punky Brewster, eh? I don't have all those freckles, and I was always a darn sight quieter than her, but the spitfire spunk and stubborn determination gene runs amok through my veins, lol! I don't believe I've seen the trees that spin, displaying different colors...it sounds perfectly magical! Merriest of Christmas' to you and yours, Barb. Love and Blessings.

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  5. Ahh the reindeer poop. When our oldest daughter Shayna was trying to convince our younger daughter that there was no Santa, I tossed a couple handfuls of black clay/soil balls onto the roof and shook some jingle bells. We could hear whispering coming from their room, but they knew not to venture out. You should have seen our Shayna's eyes when she spied that reindeer poop the next day. She believed for a little longer. The stocking legend was a new one to me. Love old legends. Thanks for sharing, and hope you and yours have a wonderful Christmas.

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    1. Ahh, the magic of reindeer poop granting the magic of Santa! How wonderful! I still believe in Santa (I hear tell you get underwear for Christmas if you stop believing). I too, love to read about old legends. They are a bit like old St. Nick - a source of wonderment to those who choose to believe. Merry Christmas, Livia!

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