Old-Fashioned Holidays

Having recently discovered we own a copy of Washington Irving's SKETCH BOOK, published around 1820 (one of the books we inherited from my mother-in-law, many of which I shelved without looking at closely), I read his essays/stories about English festivities surrounding Christmas Eve, Christmas day, and Christmas dinner. The narrator, an American visiting England, comments with delight on the customs of the season. The host, a merry old squire, insists on keeping the time-honored traditions as he understands them. None of this modern stuff allowed! Centuries-old songs are sung, games of venerable vintage are played, wassailers are welcomed, the Yule log is burned, a decorated pig's head is ceremoniously carried to the dinner table in lieu of a boar's head. The kindly old gentleman, however, is widely considered eccentric for his devotion to the past. Some of the guests carefully chosen from among the "decent" subset of the local peasantry snicker behind his back. Although the narrator enjoys the celebrations, he makes it clear that the squire is reconstructing traditional customs as he imagines them, not passing them on unbroken from previous generations.

According to THE BATTLE FOR CHRISTMAS, by Stephen Nissenbaum, our concept of an "old-fashioned Christmas" derives in large part from these "sketches" by Irving as well as "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" (aka "The Night Before Christmas"), by his contemporary Clement Clarke Moore, and of course Dickens' A CHRISTMAS CAROL. Nissenbaum offers strong evidence that the Saint Nicholas legend brought to life by Moore didn't cross over intact from Holland. Instead, Santa Claus as popularized in early 19th-century New York and immortalized by Moore was "a conscious reconstruction. . . an invented tradition."

Similarly, Nissenbaum's research reveals that the Christmas tree constituted a purely local custom in a small area of Germany until it became nationwide only in the late 18th century. Moreover, instead of spontaneously spreading from German immigrant communities to the wider American population, Christmas trees first became familiar to the general public from literary sources. Yet already by the mid-19th century people would casually remark that of course they always displayed a tree, as if it were a long-established tradition. Popularization of trees, Santa Claus, and gift-giving went along with the invention of the domestic, child-centered holiday, replacing the REAL "old-fashioned Christmas." To us, the older celebration would look like a rowdy blend of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and New Year's Eve.

Invented traditions continue to spring up in our own era. How could we now imagine the American Christmas season without Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer annually appearing on TV? Yet his story was originally written as an advertising giveaway book for the Montgomery Ward department store in 1939. In a short essay published in the 1950s, C. S. Lewis complains of the Yuletide "commercial racket," implying the phenomenon had intruded on the season quite recently. As Nissenbaum describes at length, though, commercialization of gift-giving infested the child-centered holiday from the beginning. The film A CHRISTMAS STORY, what I think of as "the BB gun movie," presumably set pre-World-War-II like the book it's based on, showcases a department store Santa in a lavishly consumerist setting.

In my childhood home, Christmas traditions included having the extended family over on Christmas Eve, emerging from our bedrooms the next morning to the sight of a dazzling spread of presents from Santa, and driving to my grandmother's house for Christmas dinner. (When I could get away with it, I sat in a corner reading a new book; I figured that shouldn't be a problem because the adults would be talking to each other, not to me, anyway.) Our kids' Christmas traditions, in addition to church, festive dinners, and gifts, involved watching programs such as Rudolph, Charlie Brown, the Grinch (the Boris Karloff cartoon, of course!), and later the BB gun movie. Nowadays, with the prevalence of streaming media, the custom of a family gathering around the TV to watch one show together threatens to die out, if it hasn't already. What will our great-grandchildren (we currently have four) look back on as cherished holiday traditions that have "always" been done?

For many of us, a "traditional" holiday means customs as we imagine them having been celebrated in our grandparents' childhoods, whenever that may have been. "Over the river and through the woods. . . ." With snow, naturally, "dreaming of a white Christmas," even if we live in a region where the most we can expect are a few flurries in January. As Rudyard Kipling's ode of farewell to Romance -- in the sense of an imagined, ideal past more romantic than the dull, mundane present -- concludes, "Then taught his chosen bard to say: Our king was with us -- yesterday."

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

Thanksgiving and Traditions

Happy American Thanksgiving! Ordinarily we spend the weekend after Turkey Day at ChessieCon, formerly Darkover Grand Council, which has traditionally occurred every Thanksgiving weekend for several decades. Last November they held their first in-person con since 2019. At that time it moved from the hotel where it's been held for many years to a different one in the same general area, north of Baltimore. Attendance turned out to be dismayingly low. Doubtless in part for that reason, the committee decided to cancel this year's event and take time off to regroup and rethink the con's future. On top of that, the hotel it had moved to abruptly closed a few months ago. Where will ChessieCon go next, if anywhere? Will we lose this venerable local SF/F tradition?

Thanksgiving traditions typically include the familiar turkey and its required accessories, e.g., stuffing, potatoes, and gravy. Some households, however, depart from the conventional menu for more adventurous fare. For instance, our second son and his family eschew turkey in favor of entrees such as homemade sushi. Many Americans also consider TV football essential on that day.

In mainline Christian churches, the first Sunday of Advent, the build-up to Christmas, falls on or near the first weekend of December. Most of us now accept as inevitable and proper that the winter holiday shopping and decorating season begins on the day after Thanksgiving. However, when Christmas and other winter-themed displays in stores overlap with Halloween merchandise, and internet merchants advertise "Black Friday" sales starting over a week early, many of us think the extension of the season is going too far. Commercialization of Christmas gifting, though, started almost simultaneously with the invention of the family-centered Christmas as we know it in the nineteenth century. Moreover, people have been complaining about it almost as long.

The popular film A CHRISTMAS STORY, aka the BB gun movie, set around 1940, based on Jean Shepherd's fictionalized memoir IN GOD WE TRUST: ALL OTHERS PAY CASH, illustrates how even before the middle of the twentieth century intensive holiday gift advertising and department store Santas already pervaded the Christmas-season consciousness of American children. Our parents and grandparents didn't experience some newer Christmas traditions that existed in our childhoods and those of our children, because those customs depend on new technology, mainly television. Many people watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, culminating in the arrival of Santa Claus. They also enjoy favorite Christmas specials over and over. Nowadays we don't have to wait for those treasured memories to show up in reruns; we can view them on home video media or streaming services at will. I always watch at least two versions of A CHRISTMAS CAROL every year, usually more. We can also look forward to original programs reliably appearing every December, such as one of my favorites, the annual new CALL THE MIDWIFE Christmas episode.

If our grandparents had been able to peer into the future and note these novel customs, they might have disdained them as soulless products of technology, violating the true spirit of the season. For us and our children, recurring winter holiday movies and TV shows simply became an expected part of the celebration, cherished traditions as much as the tree, the feast, and the presents.

When some earthlings live in artificial habitats on the Moon or Mars or in generation-spanning starships, what holiday traditions will they bring along, and what fresh customs will life in extraterrestrial environments demand? It seems likely that even in locations vastly distant from Earth's solstice cycles, human beings will cling to the core elements of their seasonal celebrations.

Margaret L Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

Commercialized Holidays

Recently I saw a Facebook post lamenting the materialistic nature of the Christmas season nowadays. The holidays focus too much on buying and receiving presents. Advertisers swamp us with messages encouraging greed. Oh, for the old-fashioned, gentle, family-centered Christmases of his youth. Well, this person appears to be around my age (mid-70s), and I remember childhood holiday preparations characterized by frenetic seasonal advertising and feverish anticipation of presents. (Of course, we were ad-bombed by less sophisticated technology, and the store displays probably went up slightly later in the year, but it was the same general kind of atmosphere.)

In A CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS, first broadcast in 1965, Charlie famously asks what Christmas is all about, as he despairs over the commercialization of the holiday, with even Snoopy embracing the hype.

In 1957, C. S. Lewis published an essay called "What Christmas Means to Me" (a title I'm almost certain wasn't chosen by Lewis himself, but that's beside the point). He says three things "go by the name of Christmas": First, the Christian religious festival. Second, "a popular holiday, an occasion for merry-making and hospitality." The third is "the commercial racket." Read this short essay in full to note how little that cultural aspect has changed, aside from the technology, since Lewis complained of it in the 1950s:

What Christmas Means to Me

A CHRISTMAS STORY (the BB gun movie), based on episodes in Jean Shepherd's fictionalized memoir IN GOD WE TRUST: ALL OTHERS PAY CASH, takes place in 1940; the real-life incidents underlying it probably occurred in the 1930s. The film shows a department-store Santa in an extravagantly decorated setting, with an assembly line of children waiting to declare their wishes.

According to Stephen Nissenbaum's THE BATTLE FOR CHRISTMAS, an analysis of the shift from the REAL old-fashioned Christmas of drinking, carousing, and house-to-house begging (wassailing) to the domestic, child-centered holiday we think of as a "traditional Christmas," concerns about commercialization sprang up concurrently with the cultural shift. Even before the mid-nineteenth century, merchants aggressively advertised their wares as perfect for seasonal gifting, while troubled moralists warned of Christmas becoming "laden with crass materialism" and producing a "generation of greedy, spoiled children."

In short, every era's nostalgic imagination relegates the traditional, unspoiled Christmas of bygone years to their parents' or grandparents' day, or maybe the generation before that. More accurately, that ideal holiday never existed in the first place.

Margaret L. Carter

Carter's Crypt

Anti-Santas

You've probably heard of Krampus, the horned, hairy, bipedal monster from Austrian legend who prowls in December, mainly on Saint Nicholas Day (December 6), and stuffs misbehaving children into his sack to drag them to Hell:

The Krampus Legend

He even has his own website (which appears not to have been updated recently, since the calendar of festive events refers to 2015):

Krampus.com

The Jungian shadow of Santa Claus has other traditional representatives, however. While we joke about naughty children getting coal from Santa instead of presents, those scary Yuletide figures often take over the punishment task, allowing Santa to remain the good guy. Belsnickel, a fur-clad sidekick of Santa in Germany and among German immigrants in Pennsylvania, does play a dual role. He carries both switches to beat bad children and candy for good children. Similarly, another Christmas companion from Germany, Knecht Ruprecht, gives treats to good children but switches and coal to bad ones. He may also beat the naughty kids with the bag of ashes he carries. In the Netherlands, Zwarte Piet (Black Pete, referring mainly to his sooty appearance) whips bad children with a birch rod or carries them off in his sack. Joulupukki, the Yule Goat of Finland, is sometimes portrayed as an ugly creature who frightens children.

In THE BATTLE FOR CHRISTMAS, an entertaining, in-depth exploration of how the true old-fashioned Christmas (which would look to us like a blend of Thanksgiving, Halloween, and New Year's Eve) was converted in the nineteenth century to the child-centered family holiday we know, author Stephen Nissenbaum analyzes the origins and purpose of Clement Clarke Moore's "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" (aka "The Night Before Christmas"). Nissenbaum draws striking line-by-line parallels between Moore's poem and "The Day of Doom," written by a Massachusetts clergyman in the seventeenth century and still popular in the early nineteenth. The major difference between the two works is that the poem about Saint Nicholas includes no threats of "doom" or "judgment." The "jolly old elf" offers only gifts and good cheer, no coal or switches for naughty children. Christmas was being domesticated.

Traditions of anti-Santas bring to mind THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS, the movie in which Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King, fascinated by the idea of Christmas but not fully understanding it, tries to appropriate the holiday because he thinks it should be more like Halloween. Likewise, in Terry Pratchett's fantasy novel HOGFATHER, when the existence of the Hogfather (the Discworld equivalent of Santa Claus) is threatened, Death steps up to save Hogswatchnight by temporarily filling the role of his fellow anthropomorphic personification. Not surprisingly, Death handles the job in rather eccentric ways. I especially like the conclusion of the novel, in which the Hogfather reverts to his primal persona as a nature deity in animal form, and only saving his life can ensure that the sun will rise at the winter solstice.

At the end of that climactic scene, Death insists that if the Hogfather had not been saved, the sun would not have risen. Susan, Death's granddaughter, asks what would have happened instead. In his customary all-caps dialogue, Death replies, "A MERE BALL OF FLAMING GAS WOULD HAVE ILLUMINATED THE WORLD."

Happy winter holiday season to all!

Margaret L. Carter

Carter's Crypt

Happy New Year

Here's a page of New Year's customs from around the world:

New Year's Traditions

One immediately notices the universal theme of "noise."

In our family during my childhood and teens, the principal New Year's Day custom was to undecorate and remove the Christmas tree. After doing the same thing during the early years of my marriage, I later abandoned that exhausting, depressing practice. When my husband and I became Episcopalians, I learned that the Christmas season doesn't end until January 6 (Epiphany, Twelfth Night). I now start dismantling the tree on or about January 6 and work on the task for several days instead of trying to accomplish it in a single marathan burst. Because we have an artificial tree, we have no safety constraints on how long it can stay up. Oddly from our contemporary perspective, in parts of England it used to be considered unlucky to keep Christmas decorations past Candlemas (February 2, aka Groundhog Day), so as long as we get the job done sometime in January, we're fine.

Although I was born in Virginia and had a grandmother from North Carolina, I never heard of the black-eyed-peas tradition until I got married. My husband, from a Navy family with roots in the Midwest and West Coast regions, cooks them for himself every year. Each pea is supposed to represent a coin; the more you eat, the more wealth you'll receive in the coming year. Since I dislike the taste of them, he has to accumulate good fortune for both of us.

The Scottish "first foot" tradition holds that it's good luck if your first visitor after midnight on the cusp of New Year's Eve and January 1 is a tall, dark stranger. Sharyn McCrumb has a humorous story, "A Wee Doch and Doris," in which a bewildered burglar accidentally becomes an elderly widow's first footer. You can find this tale in McCrumb's collection FOGGY MOUNTAIN BREAKDOWN.

I haven't made New Year's resolutions as such in a long time. My immediate goals for 2021 are to finish and submit a story for a line of Christmas-cookie-themed fiction planned by one of my publishers and to work on getting more of my orphaned e-books (from defunct publishers) re-released through Kindle self-publishing.

My main Christmas present this holiday season was the full DVD set of the TV series MASH. One memorable episode begins and ends on two New Year's Eves, bookending a montage of a year in the life of the MASH unit. At each New Year's Eve party, Col. Potter proposes the same toast, which goes something like this: "Happy New Year, and may it be a durn sight better than the last one."

Amen!

Margaret L. Carter

Carter's Crypt

What Makes Private Property Private?

Cory Doctorow's latest column explores the doctrine of "terra nullius" (nobody's land), which he traces back to John Locke's 1660 work TWO TREATISES OF GOVERNMENT:

Terra Nullius

Under this theory, private property is created by "a human taking an unclaimed piece of the common property of humanity and mixing it with their labor" to create something new, which then "belongs" to the creative innovator. The catch in this theory, according to Doctorow, is the problem of deciding what constitutes "unclaimed," "common property," or unimproved "nature." European colonizers, for example, viewed the lands of "primitive" people as available for settlement and exploitation because they weren't "owned" by any individual according to the Western concept of ownership—in an act of radical "erasure" of the indigenous peoples. As Doctorow puts it, if those lands belonged to nobody, the "primitives" who lived there must be "nobody."

How does this distinction apply to intellectual property? Doctorow summarizes the claim as follows: "The labor theory of property always begins with an act of erasure: 'All the people who created, used, and improved this thing before me were doing something banal and unimportant—but my contribution is the step that moved this thing from a useless, unregarded commons to a special, proprietary, finished good.'” One application he cites is the example of the Beatles. The R&B rhythms the Beatles incorporated into their music didn't count as owned; they were considered common property, available to anyone who chose to use them. On the other hand, if any musician nowadays takes recognizable elements of the Beatles' songs and incorporates them into new material, that's considered theft. How do we decide what's owned and what's free for use without acknowledgment or compensation? A similar phenomenon that occurred to me, not mentioned by Doctorow, is the 20th-century folk revival. Some folk musicians recorded traditional songs and copyrighted them, thereafter claiming ownership of the song (not simply of their particular arrangement of the song). Here's a forum thread discussing what elements of traditional songs can be copyrighted, as opposed to changes by individual singers that should be considered part of the "folk process" rather than private property:

Folk Song Collectors and Copyright

Two remarks in Doctorow's article that particularly struck me:

"The Ayn Randian hero is delusional: his (always his) achievements are a combination of freeriding on the people whose contributions he’s erased, and bleating that everyone who had the same idea as him was actually stealing his idea, rather than simply living in the same influences he had."

Here's how Doctorow applies this principle to authorship, using his own work as an example: "I wrote my books. They were hard work. I made real imaginative leaps that contributed to the field. Also: I wrote them because I read the works of my peers and my forebears. If I hadn’t written them, someone else would have written something comparable. All these things can be true. All these things are true. Originality exists, it just doesn’t exist in a vacuum."

In my opinion, that last sentence makes a valid and important point. Nothing in his essay, however, supplies guidelines on how to determine what creative elements qualify as "original" contributions that deserve protection as private property.

For example, here's an update about the ongoing lawsuit among Tom Clancy's estate, his widow, and his first wife over who gets to profit from past and future works featuring Clancy's character Jack Ryan:

Who Has Custody of Jack Ryan?

While I don't think anyone would deny that Clancy created and therefore "owned" Jack Ryan according to both ethical and legal principles, the question of who holds rights to the character after Clancy's death (or should the profits be split on some kind of chronological basis, depending on when the particular books or films were released?) is tangled up in a dense legal and contractual controversy.

Speaking of "commons," if we could trace back far enough, we'd find that every creative work was originally made by some individual or particular group of creators. It's just that once a work gets so old we can't identify the creator(s), we categorize it as "traditional" and part of the "common property of humanity."

Margaret L. Carter

Carter's Crypt

New Year Customs

Happy New Year!

Do you eat black-eyed peas for luck on New Year's Day? Although my grandmother, who grew up in rural North Carolina, often cooked black-eyed peas, she never mentioned this tradition. Weirdly, I heard of it only after getting married, even though my husband was a "Navy brat" whose family didn't settle in Virginia until he was about twelve. Some cooks include a coin in the pot, with the person who finds the coin getting extra luck. My husband doesn't do that. Nor does he follow the additional custom of eating collard greens along with the peas. Peas symbolize prosperity, and the greens represent money. Another superstition mandates eating exactly 365 peas, a separate portion of luck for each day of the year. (Who counts out 365 peas for each serving at the table? And in leap years, do they add one more?) Lentils, similarly, are sometimes said to bring prosperity because they represent coins. There's an Italian sweet pastry that should be eaten at New Year's to ensure a sweet year. All these arise from sympathetic magic, of course, the concept that apparent resemblances have real-world effects.

Scottish tradition includes the belief that the "first footer"—the first person to cross the threshold of your home after midnight on New Year's Eve—should be a dark-haired man. A woman or a non-dark-haired person as first footer brings bad luck rather than good.

Here's a list of New Year's superstitions, mainly things you should avoid doing on the first day of the year:

New Year's Superstitions

Don't cry on that day, or you'll have sadness all year—okay. But don't wash the dishes or the laundry? Those are new to me.

Another common belief is that you shouldn't begin the year owing any debt. Excellent advice, but most of us have little hope of fulfilling that condition, what with all the credit card charges for holiday gifts and festivities.

My parents had a tradition of taking down the Christmas tree on New Year's Day. Several decades ago I joyfully abandoned this exhausting and depressing habit. I don't start un-decorating until Epiphany (January 6, the end of the "twelve days of Christmas").

Aside from the traditional kiss at midnight, do you follow any particular customs to inaugurate the New Year?

Margaret L. Carter

Carter's Crypt

Inventing Traditions

I think I've previously mentioned one of my favorite seasonal books, THE BATTLE FOR CHRISTMAS, by Stephen Nissenbaum. The "Battle" refers to the replacement of the REAL "old-fashioned Christmas" by what we now think of as the "traditional" holiday, a process that occurred in the nineteenth century. Christmas in prior centuries would have looked to us like a blend of Halloween, Thanksgiving, Mardi Gras, and New Year's Eve. (Even in the mid-1800s, a major part of the Christmas celebration in the American South consisted of excessive drinking and making lots of noise, mainly by shooting off guns.) The transformation to the domestic holiday we cherish didn't come about through natural evolution but as a result of deliberate choices. The concept of St. Nicholas bearing gifts, although derived from one strand in Dutch culture, was not only popularized but effectively invented, as far as America was concerned, by the literary circle to which Clement Moore and Washington Irving belonged. The Christmas tree seems to have originally been, not a universal German custom, but the practice of one region in Bavaria. When it spread to England and North America, within one generation people were saying, "Of course we always have a Christmas tree," as if this "tradition" had existed from time immemorial.

The habit of giving gifts to children replaced the old practice of the upper classes bestowing bounty on their servants and poorer neighbors and giving treats to groups that performed wassail songs door to door. The "old-fashioned Christmas" of earlier eras was thus deliberately transformed into the domestic Christmas we're familiar with. Furthermore, worries about children becoming greedy for presents and anxiety over what to give to friends and relatives who already "had everything" sprang up almost immediately. Manufacturers and merchants were quick to produce and sell items designed especially as Christmas gifts. The family-centered celebration and the commercialized Christmas lamented by Charlie Brown grew up together. C. S. Lewis thought the "commercial racket" was a recent development in his own lifetime (as he discusses in the essay "What Christmas Means to Me" in GOD IN THE DOCK), but he was mistaken. As Nissenbaum's book points out, people in every generation have tended to conceive of the "real old-fashioned Christmas" as something that has just recently died out, in their parents' day or at most their grandparents'. In fact, the image of a pure, "authentic" holiday that existed in some past era is a myth.

So at Thanksgiving we sing "Over the River and Through the Woods," even though most of our grandmothers, like Charlie Brown's, live in condos rather than on farms. We sing, "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas," even if we grew up in one of the many parts of the country where it seldom snows (if at all) until January. Families have their personal traditions, of course. Some don't set up the tree until Christmas Eve, a custom that baffles me, because they go to all that trouble and then have only a week or a little more to enjoy the result. Of COURSE you are supposed to set up the tree as soon as practicable after Thanksgiving, and you open presents on Christmas morning. NOT on Christmas Eve—what a scandalous breach of propriety. :) During our sons' childhoods, our tradition included watching Christmas specials on TV, something my parents couldn't have done as children. Earlier in the twentieth century, visiting the department store Santa Claus began to grow into a tradition for many people. At nearby Sandy Point State Park, there's an annual lavish display called "Lights on the Bay," and driving to view that is probably a traditional part of many families' holiday season.

Consider "classic" carols and seasonal songs. How long does a song have to remain popular to enter the category of "classics" or holiday standards? Some now beloved and well-established songs have become standards in my lifetime, notably "Do You Hear What I Hear?" and "Little Drummer Boy," which I don't remember hearing in childhood.

Some Jewish families, as a concession to the dominant culture, set up a "Hanukkah bush" in their houses during December, a custom that's local to North America and dates back at the earliest to the late 1800s. Does this count as a "tradition"?

How long does a custom have to exist before becoming legitimately "traditional"? Mother's Day became a national holiday in 1914, thanks to a campaign by one woman, Anna Jarvis. Kwanzaa was created in 1966 by an African American professor. The U.S. official Grandparents' Day has existed only since 1978 (and I'm not sure how much it has caught on other than with greeting card companies—I've never taken any notice of it, since I maintain that its purpose is already covered by Mother's Day and Father's Day).

Whether "invented" or not—and all celebratory practices were invented by somebody once upon a time—"traditions" are basically whatever people cherish as such.

Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, and festive Yuletide to all!

Margaret L. Carter

Carter's Crypt