As I write this, I’m sitting in Houston Airport on my way back from Little Rock, probably for the last time.
As part of my consulting job before the present, I was working with five schools in Little Rock, helping them with strategic planning, communications, enrollment, and fund-raising. It was a four-year program, and I visited the schools six times a year. Even with a year of pandemic-based interruptions, I figure that I have visited the schools in person seventeen times. Each time was a quick turnaround, two nights in the same hotels, but it provided punctuation to my year.
As I said goodbye to each of the schools during the past two days, I felt a variety of emotions. I’ve come to know these people, but I’m not a friend. Saying goodbye felt awkward as I repeatedly said that I’m sure we will see each other again, but that is not likely. This part of my life is over, and this door is closing.
At one of the sites, they had a cake and fake champagne, which felt about right, but mainly I left without much fanfare.
There is no mention of a pistol in the original or any of the retellings!
Yesterday as I was writing about L Frank Baum’s Novel The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, i was surprised to find that the novella had been made into a movie. In the interest of research I found a copy on AMC+ (Free 7-day Trial) and watched all 50 minutes last night.
While I was intrigued by the fact that it was made by Rankin/Bass, using the claymation techniques found in Santa Claus if Coming to Town, and Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer, it only took a few minutes to discern that this is second or third rate R/B. The story and music was as clunky as the original material. It was soon clear why I had never heard of this film, and why it isn’t part of the yearly lineup of Christmas specials
If you don’t believe me, you can watch a clip (without signing up for a free trial here
The film begins near the end of the Baum story as the immortals gather to consider whether to grant Claus the Mantle of Immortality. This provides the structure to tell the story through flashbacks at a critical moment. More of the original story elements were there than I would have thought, though many are told in such shorthand that I wondered whether it would be comprehensible to someone who did not read the novella. But whatever it was, it wasn’t good by any stretch of the imagination.
I intended to report that as the point of the day, when I went on to YouTube this evening in order to find a clip to share, when what did I find, THERE IS ANOTHER ANIMATED VERSION OF THE STORY! The R/B version was made in 1985, and fifteen years later it was deemed necessary to remake it, this time with traditional animation.
I didn’t have the strength to watch the entire story again, so I only watched the trailer. Clearly this is the same story again, told in sequential fashion, in case children were too confused by the flashbacks. While the film was clearly a direct to,video release, it did feature the voices of national treasure, Hal Holbrook, his wife, Dixie Carter, and teen heartthrob-turned-voice-artist Robbie Benson. What I saw of it looked no better, hampered by subpar animation and the subpar story.
You can watch the trailer here
It didn’t stop there, for there were two other clips of the audiobook with sets of illustrations. This unknown story by a writer who is famous primarily for a movie of his book merited an animated retelling, and then more than a decade later, someone thought he could do a better job.
That’s the thing about Christmas, there’s always more than you expect…whether you want it or not.
Glossie and Flossie, Racer and Pacer, Reckless and Speckless, Fearless and Peerless, and Ready and Steady
Trivia question of the day, What is this miscellaneous collection of random terms? I suspect by the rhyming pairs, many people might have a guess, and if you guessed Santa’s ten reindeer, then you would be right.
Ten reindeer? Wait, what? And what’s with these names?
These are Santa’s reindeer in the 1902 story The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by none other than L. Frank Baum, who is best known for the book The Wonderful Wizard of OZ. The book was created as Christmas release in order to take advantage of the popularity of Wizard, even though it is believed that Baum wrote the book previous to the OZ books. It’s a short story, around 50 pages depending on the media, and the large print is enhanced with illustrations by Mary Cowles Clark.
Though I have been aware of this book for some years, I finally read it this morning, and to be honest, I found it less than enchanting. the writing is a little clunky (particularly the songs) and the magic of the OZ books just isn’t there.
In this story Santa is an abandoned child found in the woods by immortal sprites who raise him as their own. The name him Claus which means child in their language (nicely done) and he grows up surrounded by Fairies, Nymphs, Knooks, and Rhyls. All of these are under the reign of the Master Woodsman, the god figure and personification of the forest.
In true Hero with a Thousand Faces form, when Claus is a young man, he is taken by the Master Woodman from the forest of his youth for a tour of the world of human beings. Young Claus is particularly moved by children, particularly poor children, and he makes a decision to leave the forest and dedicate his life to helping children. Though he leaves his step-mother and friends behind, he is able to call upon them and their immortal powers to help him as he establishes himself in the Laughing Valley (no mention of the North Pole in this story)
The rest of the story outlines Santa’s evolution as he discovers his ability to build toys (apparently toys had not yet been invented) and distribute them to children. Among the canonical elements that are explained are entering the house through the chimney, putting gifts in stockings, giving gifts on Christmas Eve, and traveling the world on a reindeer pulled sleigh (though the reindeer don’t fly, they just run really fast).
Within this canonical framework are some elements unique to Baum’s story (beyond the ten reindeer). Santa is granted immortality at the time of death by a vote from the immortals. He is frustrated in his early career by a demon race called the Awgwas, which leads to a Paradise Lost type war of good versus evil. Mrs. Claus and the elves are nowhere to be seen. Santa is a workaholic, and he has no time for other things.
One early conflict is very interesting. Santa’s original service and early toys are given exclusively to children who are poor or neglected. However, a young princess comes to visit Claus and suggests that rich children are no less in need of his love and toys. SC is not able to navigate this by himself, so he calls all his woodland friends to a counsel, and they together decide that it’s pretty judgy to evaluate a child’s worthiness by zip code. The class issues that are seen in The Wonderful Wizard of OZ are clearly still on Baum’s mind as he works out the economics of Christmas.
In a bit of cleverness, toward the end of the story Santa discovers that more and more houses don’t have chimneys. To address this problem, he deputizes (the chapter is named “Santa’s Deputies”) parents to place gifts that he made in the stockings of children. There is even an undeveloped idea that Santa puts toys in shops so that parents in areas where he can’t reach in one night can help the process along by getting children’s gifts there. As a failed dry goods salesman, Baum seems to be putting in a plug for Christmas shopping!
This kind of writing is fascinating in its way. Rather than exclusively creating a story, the writer takes the frameworks of an existing legend and shoehorns in an origin story. Clement Moore’s “A Visit from St. Nicholas” took an established practice and added color and substance, much of which has carried into the legend as told today (his reindeer names are far superior). The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus does much the same thing, but would appear to be much less successful. Virtually knows the alternate reindeer names, or any of the “original” elements of this story…or that the story exists at all
Yesterday I wrote about a game that was rife with potential dangers, but it was a holly-jolly time compared to the Christmas tradition of murder. In parts of England, Ireland and Wales, it was a tradition to kill a wren on Christmas Day and then to parade through the town on December 26, the Feast of St. Stephen, with the dead birds mounted on decorated poles, dancing, singing, and occasionally asking townspeople for money in order to provide the bird with a nice funeral (or at least to provide for the libations at the wake).
The origins of this tradition, as with most, are muddled, but it appears to be based on an old folk tale. The birds were arguing about which one was the “King of the Birds,” and they decided a contest of which one could fly the highest would settle this for all. The birds climbed, and one by one they fell off, until only the eagle continued climbing. As the eagle reached its apex, the crafty wren, the smallest of all birds, emerged from where it had been hiding in the eagle’s feathers and few a little bit further up. Why this rather clever gambit merited yearly hunting and public excoriation to celebrate the birth of Christ is unclear to me, but I lack imagination
The Wikipedia article about this tradition includes a poem that may have been sound by the Wrenboys.
The wren the wren the king of all birds. St Stephen’s Day was caught in the furze. Her clothes were all torn- her shoes were all worn. Up with the kettle and down with the pan. Give us a penny to bury the “wran”. If you haven’t a penny, a halfpenny will do. If you haven’t a halfpenny, God bless you!
Interesting that the ending of this murder song is known to us as part of the song, “Christmas is a comin’ and the goose is getting fat,” which, I suppose is it’s own murder song of sorts.
No matter, it’s good to remember these traditions of the more brutal history of the holiday. It is nice to know that we have left these behind for the much more humane traditions of sending picture Christmas cards with the entire family holding guns.
The various gatherings of friends and relatives that are custom at holiday time often lead to a significant question, “What do we do with these people?” Food and drink, of course, has its place, and gifts can take a moment or two, but unless the group never gets tired of watching the marathon of “A Christmas Story,” there needs to be some other sort of pastime to fill the hours.
In my family, it usually was games. after the dishes were done, the table was cleared and everyone gathered. Sometimes if there was a new game, we gave that a try, but usually game time could mean one thing only… cards. I have commented before about how much cards were the social glue that tied our gatherings, holiday and otherwise, together. It was a way of being together without the pressure to make conversation, and at Christmas a cup of coffee or a cookie or mince pie could be quaffed while the game commenced.
Victorians must have felt similarly, but some of their games were more ornate and participatory. I was reading today about a game called Snapdragon. Like our card games, this was played later in the evening after dark. Raisins or other sweet fruits were laid out on a dish and soaked with brandy. Then the lights would be extinguished and the brandy would be lit aflame. Each person would take turns grabbing a sweet from the dish and popping it into her or his mouth. The winner would be the final person who was able to retrieve a morsel.
The game functioned on two levels, of course there was the competition between players, but the participants also enjoyed the macabre scene of fire reflected in the faces and throughout the room. Tracing many Victorian Christmas traditions points to a holiday as much tied to t(e scary and unsettling as it was to the quaint and picturesque.
As I think of this game, I can only imagine the number of times that fingers hands, children, and houses were burned by these alcohol-fed flames. From our perspective, such risks would be unthinkable, but from a generation that played lawn darts, click-clacks, and football, who am I to judge?
You can find further information and a demonstration of Snapdragon in this video
I’ve had an internal struggle today. I missed my blogpost again yesterday. I wish it could say that this was caused by some noble cause, feeding children, curing cancer, getting cats down from trees, but it has really been nothing so lofty. I’ve been having a hard time fitting writing into the new organization of my life, and frankly, I feel somewhat tapped out. I scan the Internet for interesting discussions and facts surrounding the holidays, and I find item after item that I’ve talked about before. I joked to a friend that maybe it is time to write about what a great song, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ is. For goodness sake, a wrote about cats dancing around a Christmas tree on Wednesday!
As I worked through my tasks today, I thought about throwing in the towel and writing a “See you next year…maybe,” message today. It is very unlikely that I will complete 24 entries this year, so I felt that the project was “broken,” and I wanted to run away from it. I made all sorts of “self-care” arguments that have been so popular in the past year. What does it really matter, anyway?
But, as I thought further, I had a, “I can tell you what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown,” moment. I started this project to try and increase my awareness of my life during these few weeks of the year. If I come up dry some days, then that is the product of that day. If I don’t make the time one day, then these are the choices I make.
In short, it’s going too be an incomplete Christmas, an imperfect Christmas. But when has it ever been anything else? As much as I envision writing 24 Emersonian essays, I know this never is the reality. If I write three high quality posts in a season, that is an accomplishment. Abandoning the project because of this imperfection is to pretend that some sort of perfection is possible…and at least with me, that’s never going to be.
So I will keep slogging. Let’s see what happens. I can’t guarantee that what I write will be great, or that I will write at all, but the project continues, and I can guarantee that it will be imperfect.
Nothing says Christmas like feral cats frolicking around the Christmas tree. I found this picture online this morning without source or explanation. I suspect it is a Victorian Christmas card, judging by the style and the overall weirdness of the subject matter. There is plenty to enjoy in this feline yowltide.
If I had no other identifying factors, I would know this is British in origin because of the plentitude of Christmas crackers Three pairs of kitties are eitehr in the process of pulling the crackers and there are a number of popped crackers on the floor. The pair in the front left are simultaneously falling backward and startled by the explosion. A number of cats are wearing the crowns and paper hats contained inside, and the pair in center right are laughing at the corny jokes found inside.
What’s up with the cat with glasses on the bench beside the tree? It appears that he is listening to a kitten. Is this a Santa Paws, or simply a grandfatherly figure. Whichever, there are no COVID or child protection measures in place. There appears to be another “child” on the shoulders of a parent toward the back on the right side. Are the four in the forefront kittens? Hard to say.
The most interesting thing about the picture for me is the background. There are about fifteen cats in the foreground with greater color and definition, but behind them are less-defined and outlined cats that appear to be countless and jamming the room all the way to the far wall with a cat portrait on it. There is even a second tree on the far side of the room to match the abundant tree in the foreground. There is also some sort of hanging garland or wreath hanging above the party.
No moral, no deep observation…it’s a cat party, and what could be bettter.
In January I am scheduled to speak at a conference for educators and others in Reno, Nevada. This is the first “live” conference I have attended in more than a year. I have really hated delivering talks through Zoom or other conference software. Doing a talk of the type I deliver depends so much on reading the crowd and building from the energy in the room, and that energy and enthusiasm isn’t there when you can’t see anyone. One feels like he is shouting in an echo chamber.
So, I was very excited when I learned that this was going to be a live conference. I look forward for the silence that follows my jokes to be legitimate and not artificially created. I love to look in people’s faces to determine whether they are getting it, liking it, or even awake. Broader than this, it felt like this was another beginning, and emerging from the pandemic cocoon to that new place that we are all talking about.
However, the organizers of the conference, seeing the on going creep of the virus, even before omicron, asked if I would be willing to make a recording of my presentations that could be available for those who would not choose or be able to attend the conference in person. While I recognize and agree with their decision, I now had an additional task on my plate
One of the reasons why I balk at making recordings is that once a recording is out, I really have no control over my material any more. I hate to kill the golden goose of live speaking events by giving my stuff away to all. But, honestly, my talk about protecting intellectual property was just a guise for my balking at making two session recordings
In order to make a single one-hour recording, one has to have focus, confidence, and the ability to let little things pass without correcting them. I suspect there is a mathematical formula balancing the number of minutes into the recording with the size of mistake one is willing to accept. In the first five minutes, one might restart with a stammer. After 45 minutes a coughing fits bad. All things considered, these recordings didn’t go too badly, with the exception of once I lost Wi-Fi 20 minutes into a talk and had to restart.
I used Zoom to record the sessions. Zoom allows me to record and share the screen while keeping the actual file in the cloud. Video files are enormous, and storing and sharing them becomes a problem. This way I could send a link and I would be done.
Unfortunately, after I sent the links of the completed talks, I head back from the conference that they couldn’t open them. I had no trouble opening them on my computer…of course my machine was logged in to Zoom. I sent a passcode for each talk and I hope this works, but I fear that I might be caught recording again.
This is a common challenge for me. I know how I want to do something and it makes complete sense in my mind, but the complexity of systems and commands and compatibility fight against me. I know where I’m going, but I can’t get there from here.
It is possible that some of you may have noted the lack of an entry yesterday…very observant of you. I hope that I will make up day four with a double entry day in the future…and if you believe that…
Yesterday’s LA Times had an article about current changes to the tradition of children visiting Santa Claus in a mall or department store.
This marriage of Christmas magic and materialism dates back to the 1890s, when the owner of a dry goods store had a Santa suit made for himself and advertised that children could visit with good St. Nick while their parents shopped. The success of this promotion soon was copied by stores across the country. Of course most of us are familiar with the department store Santa as seen in Miracle of 34th Street, A Christmas Story, Elf, and many others. The credulity of children must have been strained by the many incarnations of their favorite holiday pal in every large store in town. With the advent of shopping centers and malls, this Santa-ubiquity was addressed by having a single central location for children’s dreams (and $10 photographs).
I noticed one change to the tradition a few years ago. The outrageously enormous and ornate chairs that sat Santa and children on his lap were gradually replaced in many places by a bench, so children could tell their wishes in a safer environment. I remember feeling sad when I saw this, primarily because of the terrible realities that cause it, but at the same time I had to admit that it made good sense. Once one steps away from the “magic,” one has to admit that the yearly ritual of sitting on the lap of a stranger is just plain creepy.
Last year there were far fewer Santa experiences as shoppers avoided department stores and malls (and close contact with any individuals, no matter how merry). This year the tradition has been relaunched, but in a time as loaded with uncertainty as sugar plums, the forms are different. Many mall Santas meet with children by appointment only, often across a desk and sometimes guarded by a screen. I didn’t read about any Santas requiring proof of immunization (so Aaron Rogers can ask for his Super Bowl), but if this had been available to children earlier, who knows?
Fashion Island in Newport Beach is avoiding the risks of kids and Santas entirely by offering virtual visits with Santa Claus. The family schedules an appointment and Santa flies to the house via video call to speak with children. Heaven only knows where these Santas may have been outsourced from. I can only picture the Zoom challenges brought into this arena, “Sally, you’re on mute, Santa Can’t hear what you want,” “Mom, Santa’s frozen on the screen. Is it the cold of the North Pole?” “Sorry, Derick, your dad didn’t pay the Wi-Fi bill, so no visit to Santa this year!”
Part of the motivation of these limited access Santas is the fact that there are far few available Santas in the workforce. Given the age of the average Santa, many were prime candidates for COVID. Let’s hope that this is a safer year for all.
I was reading an interesting article in the New Yorker this morning entitled “The Good Fight” by Carlos Lozada. In essence the article talked about the challenges and outright harm caused by the nostalgic canonization of the people and events involved in the Second World War, particularly evaluating the portraits in a number of recent books.
The author was not arguing the war itself or the bravery of many participants, but his point seems to be that it is easy to anecdotally create a picture of a time much clearer, a populace more supportive, and soldiers more uniform in their support and valor. The romance of looking backward paints with broad strokes and rose-colored glasses make everything, well, rosy. As time passes, and the variety of voices become unified in death, we can hail the “Greatest Generation,” but we cannot really know them.
I introduce this not to discuss the less than simple history of our country’s military involvement in Europe and the Pacific, but rather to make a point about education (WWH started as an education blog, remember?). As I make suggestions for changes to the form and content of modern education, I am often confronted with nostalgia-based resistance. Education used to be so excellent; our children were well-behaved and smart; learning the basics set our children up for success.
While I am the first to acknowledge challenges to new models of education, I think it is foolish to castigate the present by creating a “Greatest Generation” of past students that never really were. Anecdotes of hard work and mental fortitude are tearfully related, fallaciously equating parts to the whole, and behaviors that can be tied to technology are treated as if they had never existed prior to the cell phone. One of the most common complaints I hear is that technology can be a “distraction” for students, and this is important because students were never distracted in the past.
I think this is natural, as it is easier to perceive the problems of the moment while having amnesiac blindspots for the problems of the past. Today comes at us with myriad new challenges, while the past gradually fades into uniformity. New York Times writer and comedian, John Hodgman, calls nostalgia, “the most toxic of emotions,” because it simultaneously reforms and smooths over the past and then embraces that reformation.
This is not to say that we are not in a very challenging time in the world and in the world of education. There are many growing pains (and not-growing pains) along the way. But it is important not to forget that the new forms and content we are introducing now is the outcome of what we were taught. Every “Greatest Generation” is ultimately responsible for the generations that follow.
