Some of you may remember that, just over a year ago, this correspondent wrote a thesis about a recurrent disease which had been identified as Nordstromsalis Meavisitiae, a compulsion based syndrome centered on some form of nervous disorder. What you may not have recognized is that this disease has recently been with us once again, appearing with the same symptoms as in previous years. It is not yet known whether these symptoms have been triggered by the onset of a summer solstice or by some other reason such as the after effects of the Ides of March. What is clear, however, is that the symptoms are fundamentally identical to other years, even though there are some slight deviations in some of them.
As I mentioned last year, my own daughter has been afflicted by this disease for many years. This year, her 14 year old daughter Megan has apparently become similarly afflicted. It will be interesting to study the effects of this disease on one so young.
The basic symptom of this disease has always been to collect large amounts of "swag" from all parts of the relevant shrine. This is then taken home and shown to family and friends in the appropriate way by wearing, display on a table, etc. Then, depending on the interest shown by the audience, the swag is sorted into what is to be kept and what is to be returned or exchanged. At this time, the patient also may decide to return to the shrine to seek other objects which are basically similar but may differ in color or in size.
Interestingly enough, it is in this phase that some changes have been seen in the last year or so. One difference is that there is now a tendency to collect some specific pieces of swag which the patient has absolutely no intention of keeping, even though they may not admit that initially. These pieces are definitely going to be returned.
So, one may well ask, why were they brought home in the first place? The answer to this question is certainly not obvious to the innocent bystander. Nonetheless, there must be a reason for this and investigation of this phenomenum is ongoing.
There are several theories for this latest behavior pattern. One is an obvious theory, but probably too obvious. That is that the patient could not afford the object in question and therefore wanted to show people that she could have had it if she really wanted it.
Another theory is that she really did not want the item in question but.."Mary W has one.." so she felt she should show some interest in it since.."Mary W has everything that is fashionable (and expensive!!)".
Yet another theory is much more devious, (in fact it is so devious that the idea behind the theory has been attributed to Nancy Pelosi). This is based on the fact that .."Sally P bought one of these and I knew she didn't want it, she just wanted to show off. So, I bought one too and I am going to keep it as long as possible before I return it so I may force Sally to keep hers, that will teach her!!".
Now, you may well say that this last theory is ridiculous as nobody is that devious. If this is true, how then do you explain the mindset of the majority of the approximately 545 most prominent people in Washington DC, and we all know too well who they are!
Since my report of last year, there has been some research into the behavior of the patients on their return from visits to the shrine. As I stated, they usually drive up to their house and then back the car up to the garage. What is the reason for this maneuver? Everybody knows that women don't like reversing cars, so why do it? Because it captures the attention of neighbors so they will keep watching. The next part of the act is to leave the trunk open when they take the loads of swag into the house. To reverse the car up to the house and then leave the trunk open might indicate a desire to hide something. Exactly the opposite, it ensures that all the surrounding hidden eyes will stay watching to observe and count the number of loads carried in. Another observation of this part of the process is that, almost invariably, the women do not take the shortest route from the car into the house, i.e. via the garage. No, they take the scenic route via the front door, thus increasing the visibility time by at least 500%. All of these symptoms demonstrate the mental effect this disease is having on the patients.
After each of the shrines returns to its normal practices for therapy, the activity at the shrine drops drastically and the lives of the patients returns to near normal. But, it has been suggested by some observers that, at this time, many patients may be overcome by some form of inner guilt or remorse. This is demonstrated by the fact that many of them may not be seen anywhere near the shrines until the next germinating period a year hence.
This last year, the medical fraternity has announced that is observing the effects of another somewhat similar affliction. This has been identified as Costcosis Extremus. This is similar in that the primary symptom is the desire to visit certain places on a regular basis but with no obvious goal in mind. The places in question are not the carpeted shrines identified with the previous affliction. They are instead like huge silos where one can restock ones house, garage or pantry. No carpet. Instead, concrete floors and shelves seemingly reaching to the stratosphere. One pushes huge metal carts around and fills them with swag. As you leave the silo, your swag is not placed in silver bags with the name of the shrine emblazened on them. You are offered large cardboard boxes with the previous shippers name on them and, in these, they will readily pack your swag.
The silos are frequently bursting with people of all creeds and color who come, whole families at a time, to clog the aisles by standing around chatting and staring into space. Probably one of each family has the job of assembling the swag, the remainder are human flotsam. On a typical day, it may take an hour and a half to proceed from the entrance to the exit, traversing all the aisles. Most of the time is spent avoiding the aforesaid flotsam.
The shelves in the silo are packed by people who drive fork lifts. Thus, there is, of necessity, no rhyme or reason or, in fact, any logic behind how things are categorized. As an example, if you are looking for a new queen size mattress and you want it soft, try looking next to something else which is soft, like ice cream.
It is also a necessity in these silos to buy things in bulk. Unknowingly, this leads to one becoming extremely agile mentally in planning family life in order to effectively utilize 347 pairs of extra long black bootlaces. In another example, one will quickly realize how much more effective it is to buy two ultrasonic coffee laser perculators rather than leave a large box half empty if you only wanted one.
Bearing the foregoing in mind, it is relatively easy, with practice, to fill the large cart they so thoughtfully provide for your use. Once you have filled the cart, it is now time to check out. This involves making the choice of which check out line to use.
The choice of check out line involves several disciplines. One has to count the number of carts in each line. It is no good counting the number of people unless you want to apply the flotsam factor. Then you must look at the number and size of the contents of each cart. Lastly, you need to assess the mental capacity of the checker and try to hear if he or she is speaking English. All in all, you now should have an estimate of how long it will take to reach the far end of the line chosen.
The silos each have a single entry door and a single exit door, each guarded to assure one way traffic. At the exit point, there are two ladies who measure the length of your receipt. If the receipt reaches the obligatory length of two and a half hands, one of them will draw a line through the receipt from south to north with a red felt tip pen. This then indicates that you are free to take it home and display it on the garage wall, probably next to the red or blue ribbons with gold letters which show how you fared at the local dog or horse show.
When you get home, you will be forced by the threat of sheer logistic mayhem into unpacking the cardboard boxes and making fresh piles in the garage. The entire family and possibly the dog are then recruited into stuffing the contents of the boxes into every conceivable nook and cranny in all available cupboards, shelves, etc as well as under the beds. Some of these items may indeed not be seen for years, if then.
Once the boxes are unpacked, before you can get the car in the garage, you have to break down and fold the cardboard boxes ready for the garbage pick up. This, of course, is after you have studied the intricate design of each box to see how the incredibly inventive designer had intended it to be folded.
An interesting part of this affliction now shows itself. On garbage collection day, if one drives around any particular neighborhood, a quick look at the recycling bins of each house will tell you immediately who is smitten with this affliction. Those with all the large folded boxes are the carriers of this disease.
At this point, another interesting part of the affliction is also revealed. People have a habit of reading the labels on large boxes and also looking at the illustrations thereon. This brings on the feeling of a personal desire to have what John next door has. Without a word being uttered, this now produces instant contagion. From this moment on, the amount of flotsam in each silo can only increase. This may explain the extremely rapid spread of this disease.
As I said in the text, this is a relatively new disease and it will obviously change as it develops over the years. We shall all have to do our best to " go with the flow" and try not to exacerbate the symptoms as they now exist.
Having just been through the Christmas season, I am reminded of what Christmas was like as a child in my native England. Do you remember Christmas as a child? I remember it well. Christmas Day in England was an all day ritual which never changed from year to year. It was great fun and we looked forward to it all year. For many of the years I was a child, there was a war on, so everything was in short supply. My parents were very conservative people so, on Christmas morning, my sister and I would only get one main present and then, maybe, one smaller one. Beyond the age of seven, we were also allowed to choose a book as a present.
The food at Christmas was really good. At lunch, with the huge turkey, we had little sausages called chipolatas, then there were roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, Brussel sprouts, parsnips, bread sauce, and the most fabulous gravy. After that came the dessert, Christmas pudding with brandy butter. The pudding had silver coins hidden in it. Then, to finish, we had mince pies. Slight digression......A couple of days ago, I went into the British shop in Gig Harbor and the very nice lady in there asked if she could find something for me. So I said " I need some bangers". She replied "Would you like chipolatas or proper bangers?" I don't think I have heard the word chipolata in over 40 years. This is what set me me thinking about Christmas as a kid. End of digression.
All the family, uncles, aunts, cousins, etc. came for lunch at Grandma and Grandpa's house. In the years after Grandpa died, Christmas lunch sometimes revolved around the other family houses. After lunch. one crew did the washing up, while the other crew went for a walk. At 3pm, we all had to listen to the King's speech. This speech was given every year and, since the death of the King, the Queen has carried on the tradition. The only change has been that nowadays the speech is given on television as well as radio. The speech always began .... "Today...................................the Queen and I........." After the speech, all the family presents would be given out. As a side note here, I should point out that Grandpa was the eternal Patriarch. He thought he ruled everything and everyone. When he carved the turkey, you would have thought he was feeding the five thousand with the ceremony he put into it. He wasn't just present when the presents were given out, he presided over the occasion. He wasn't shy about pointing out which of us had behaved well or not during the year. Each of us knew where we stood in the level of possible annointment. I could write many blogs about Grandpa and his weird beliefs and strange behavior. One thing that I do remember does give a slightly twisted insight into his lofty attitude. In their house, there was only one bathroom, large though the house was. In the bathroom was a huge toilet, I've never seen one so big. It had a massive solid mahogany seat about two inches thick. I remember, when I sat on it, there was still room to play a hand of cards on either side. The toilet did not have a tank behind it, that was somewhere up in heaven. The handle to flush the toilet hung on a chain which, maybe eight feet above floor level became a thick wire which went up through an unadorned hole in the ceiling and on to who knows where. When you pulled the handle, nothing happened initially and then there was an enormous clap of thunder and about forty gallons of water cascaded through the toilet. When I heard this the first time, I was terrified. But then, I got an insight into where the wire could have gone to. This must be Grandpa's direct connection with the Almighty. I was always certain that he had one somewhere.
Next came tea, with all kinds of sandwiches, cakes, fruit, etc. However, at Grandma's house, rules were applied to what we ate at tea. Before we could eat a sandwich, we had to eat at least one slice of plain bread and butter. Before we could eat a cake, we had to eat two sandwiches. These were usually cucumber or watercress with the crusts cut off and each slice cut into four diagonally. Very dainty. Grandma also always served canned pears with the sandwiches. It was probably the done thing to do. Another strange ritual was that she served pickled ginger at the same time. I love ginger at any time but I could not see rhyme or reason for serving it at tea.
After tea at Grandma's house, we played games unless you managed to escape this phase of the proceedings. I could never make out why they made even teenagers succumb to games which must have been invented for pre-natal exercise.
Then came even more food. It was now suppertime. We had, of course, cold turkey carved by Grandpa with dexterous grandeur. It was accompanied by ham, carved by Uncle Bert, and there were salads with salad cream ( no salad dressing in those days), potato salad and various pickles and relishes. This was all followed by all kinds of creamy desserts and jellies and the Queen of all desserts, English trifle with loads of sherry. The trifle was the highlight of the whole day for me.
To finish the day off, all the adults played rummy for money. When each of us became teenagers, we were sometimes allowed to play. But, we had better not win a game!!
When it came time to go home, while the war was on, we often had to walk the three miles home in the extreme darkness caused by the black out. There were no cars and no petrol, and the busses stopped around 10PM, so walk it was. We all fell into every hole possible on the way, but , it was fun to us kids. Despite the walk home, it had been a fabulous day and we really looked forward to it all year. Christmas will always remain in my mind as a time for children in addition to its religious connotation. I'm sure there are many people in this world who feel the same way.
With this thought in mind, let me digress for another minute. What is the mentality behind the movement to ban the use of the expression "Merry Christmas" and replace it with "Happy Holiday"? It seems to me that this achieves nothing except potentially alienating millions of people in the world besides showing the ignorance of those who promote this idea. The fact that Christmas is a time for children is accepted worlwide to the extent that it does not need to be stated. Don't these people know this? And, don't they also know that a holiday is what happens when the family goes to the beach in the summer? I think the real problem is that these people have become totally engulfed in politics in their self centered frame of mind and they force themselves to believe that anything with a religious connotation must be packaged in a politically correct manner regardless of what this packaging does to the original intent. End of second digression.
The family that met at Christmas and various other times throughout the year was actually my mother's side of the family. They all lived within 20 miles of one another and were very gregarious by nature. Seventeen of us sat down to lunch at Christmas. There was the Patriarch and his Lady. Grandma was the sweetest soul who ever walked the face of this earth. She lived to be 103. I could write a whole blog about her. They had two sons and two daughters. Uncle Bert did not marry until quite late in life. The other three children married and had eight grandchildren between them. I am number four in the pecking order of the grandkids. Six of the grandchildren are still living. Numbers three and six have unfortunately both passed away in the last year.
Digression number three. I do not mention my father's side of the family in this story. His family had become somewhat depleted in both world wars and were more scattered across the country, and thus came together less often. There is a strange difference in the two sides of the family. Each side has a good sense of humour (yes, I have put the "u" in because I am talking about Brits!). But the sense of humour of each side is entirely different from the other. My father's family mostly have an outrageous sense of humour, whereas my mother's side have a more reserved and more directed equivalent. I am not going to explain this as it would probably "urinate off" too many family members. My sister and I tend to lean toward my father's side in the respect of humour. It has become a habit over the years to describe some of us as "being a real Smith" which defines the sense of humour. Here endeth the third digression.
Getting back to Christmas, it is amazing to compare what I remember about Christmas as a kid with what we have today. The difference is enormous. There are so many more presents today, presumably because there is more money around and our values have also changed. For the better????? Who knows? The food is equally plentiful today, but there were more different types of food served when we were kids. I don't remember the adults drinking wine in those days. Grandpa would probably not have approved. Yet, he kept a barrel of hard cider in the cellar and had a glass with every meal.
Nowadays, the children seem to ask for what they want for Christmas and, in many cases, they get it. As a child, nobody ever asked us what we wanted for Christmas but, if you asked for something, that seemed to be an absolute cast iron guarantee that you would not receive it. I remember year after year wanting an HO gauge train set for Christmas and, year after year, I never got one. My father did allow us to choose the book we wanted. During the war years, a book called "Aircraft of the Fighting Powers" was published every December and I always received it. I still have all seven volumes in near mint condition. My sister used to get the "Bookano" series books I believe.
The kids today receive Lego sets and they put them together very well and soon, they take them apart again and that's the last you see of them. By comparison, we got model airplane kits, either flying or non flying. They were generally harder to put together and tended to stay in one piece, until they crashed. The girls still get their dolls, which seem to be much more refined these days.
I suppose I have now rambled long enough on this subject. But, I must admit, I have enjoyed reminiscing about Christmas as we used to know it. Has it got better or worse? Neither, its just a bit different, a big bit.
