The Notes of Christmas Past 1.0

A blast from Christmas Past! This article was published in our local papers in December of '02. Both the tale of our old manger, and conversely yet another opportunity for me to blather on about whatever currently interested me. I give you...

THE STRANGE MANGER

Dare I say, living now as I am in the Great Northwest, our Christmas tree, when my
brothers and I were youths, held no water and offered no scent? A fake tree, it was.
Unheard of, I am told, hereabouts. On Long Island in New York, winter hosted the annual event where inhabitants unboxed faux firs and semi-spruces, arranging color-coded branches before their insertion into two-tier pre-drilled trunks. Pine-scented mist sprayed from aerosol cans swirled in the air before settling shamefully on porcupinic tendrils. A yule fog on a Nicholasian decoy. Despite admonitions from natives such as “Christmas is not Christmas without a real tree,” and regardless of my negative tone, I recollect fondly our artificial tree. And why a fake tree? Hassle-free – no sap, no fallen needles, no watering. And of course, no fear of the always-told (and likely hyperbolic) tale of every live tree bursting into flames, consuming home and hearth, devouring stocking and snowglobes, while families swirled hot cider with cinnamon sticks at Christmas pageant intermissions. And what dangers held the artificial tree? Allergies awakened by eleven years of attic dust, I’ll offer. But it is in the shade of the tannenbaum where our narrative begins…

Well, not a narrative really. I’m not telling a story. But it made for an exciting introduction, right? If this were a film, maybe Harry Nilsson or Orson Welles would narrate. If they weren’t both dead, surely one of them would participate. We open with black screen, white text: December 1982. Dissolve and pan down from the wintry sky. The snow falls softly in huge flakes. Zoom into the living room of a ranch style suburban household. Cut to close-up of large blue eye. Slow zoom out gradually revealing another eye, a nose, a mouth, then the face and crown of a wise man figurine. The paint of his brown skin reveals his age – humans wrinkle, plaster chips. Pull back to frame full height and width of the manger.

Who’s in there? Well, according to the advent calendar on the fridge, the date is December 20. The wise men have gathered; the two shepherds as well. A camel and three angels complete the crowd. Nine spectators awaiting the Holy Family. They’re just standing there, staring at each other. I anticipate one of the shepherds shrugging the lamb from his shoulders and bum rushing a wise man.

- You think you’re smarter than me, King Cole?

- At least I can count more than sheep!

They tussle. Then I blink my eyes, shake my head and come to my senses. Okay, I wasn’t daydreaming. I’d been dunking my pinwheel cookies in eggnog. Zow!

Meanwhile, Joseph and Mary have hoofed it out of Nazareth (the attic) en route to Bethlehem (the living room floor). Let’s track their journey:

December 20: Location: Youngest Brother’s Bedroom. Top of dresser. Outside gate of Castle Greyskull, Skeletor’s abode.

Joseph, Mary and a donkey travel for a day and rest for the night.

December 21: Location: Shared Bedroom of Middle Brother and I. Nightstand. Next to Avon Pittsburgh Steeler After-Shave Decanter.

A dab behind the donkey’s ears.

An Aside: The Donkey. The donkey, kneeling in a grassy patch, rests on a felt-bottomed base. His long ears, these long years, have since broken off. The right one at first, followed several journeys later by the left. Sans auditory appendages, the ass looked like an otter. My mother, a great improviser and artisan, fashioned two little ears out of clay. From a distance, say the length of Ontario, one would not notice any disparity in the donkey’s appearance.

December 22: Location: Mother’s Bedroom. Nightstand again. Two days to Bethlehem. And yards of carpet to go.

Why we had the three kings and shepherds waiting for the Joseph and Mary at the manger, I’m not certain. I suppose it was symbolic. The couple didn’t know where they were going. You don’t make reservations at a manger. Maybe if they got a room at an inn, it’d make more sense. But as the story goes, there was no room at the inn. Can you believe that? Denying a pregnant girl a room? They must’ve had something in the back! Those kids didn’t need the honeymoon suite! Boost a chiseling drunk, for crying out loud! Still, I guess it worked out better this way – an inn under the Christmas tree would’ve made for a boring display. No animals. Just a bunch of shlubby guests and three astrologers decked out like hip-hop impresarios. An edgy father, a nervous mother, and a baby boy swaddled in hotel towels – throw in Mare Winningham and you’ve got a Lifetime Original Movie.

December 23: Location. Bathroom. On the countertop hungrily eyeing the Crest. 4 days without food (I never fed them although I did stumble over a moist candy cane on the morning of the 21st) and I’d start justifying toothpaste as a dietary supplement as well. Little sleep that night, what with the flushing and all.

And what sorts of accommodations were awaiting Joseph and Mary in “Bethlehem”? Let’s check the property listing:

SLICE OF HEAVEN!!!
Garage: None
Exterior: Plywood/Old Checkerboard
Roof Type: Matted Straw
Heating: Camel/Straw
Cooling: No Walls
Interior Features: Camel/Donkey/Angels/Crib
Exterior Features: Felt Tree Skirt/Santa Bear with Weak Battery Mewling Out Carols
Year Built: 1969 A.D.
Square Feet: One
Water: Oasis
Sewer: Oasis
This cozy nouveau barnette in much sought-after Bethlehem Woods neighborhood offers affordable yet gracious living in festive atmosphere. Recently remodeled – back wall has been replaced by a checkerboard! Private, well-shaded cul-de-sac. Close to public transportation (train travels circumference of tree). A must see! Priced at $8.99.

December 24: Location: The Manger beneath the Christmas Tree. With angels, wise men, shepherds and animals in attendance. Joseph looks at his watch. The lights fade.

A few hours of silence. At night. A silent night. Oh! A holy night! All is calm, all is… BRIGHT! ALL OF THE SUDDEN! Bedroom lights are on! Brothers are up! It’s 5:30 in the morning. The supporting beams of the manger vibrate and buckle. A wise man tips over spilling myrrh on the camel. We all gather in front of the tree.

Only one figure is missing from the manger. From behind the checkerboard, my mother retrieves the baby Jesus molded in his crib and places him between his parents. Good cheer! A child is come unto us! A shepherd reacts:

- Wait a minute. He was out back the whole time?

The wise man gets to his feet, brushing straw and myrrh from his fineries.

- Sometimes I think you’ve got less sense than that mangy lamb around your neck.

- You wanna throw down, King Vitamin?

A brawl ensues. Slow zoom out. Three boys opening presents enter the frame. Their mother collects discarded wrapping paper. Continue zoom out of living room, over kitchen table, through back bay window into soft glow of snowy dawn.

May you revive old traditions this year as new ones are begun. Happy Holidays!