A Wintry Mix
On gifts and Gifts
Two days before Christmas and I’m wondering what gifts I’m being given. Not wrapped packages, though those are welcome too, but Gifts, capital G. So far, this holiday season has had me feeling like I’m bump-bump-bumping along, moved this way and that, careening around corners, still mostly on track but also a little not, as in Disney’s “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.” That’s my kind of amusement park fun, but in everyday life... I’m not so sure.
For one thing, I’ve just gotten home from my niece’s sparkly wedding in snowy Banff. I’m not one who likes to travel around the holidays — I prefer non-stop baking at home — so just being out in the world in that way and at this time of year has felt a little discombobulating.
And now I’m writing this post while waiting for a slowly leaking tire to be fixed.
Metaphors abound!
And Lessons too (hmmmm...) and Gifts (oooh... but also eek!).
Meanwhile, a wintry mix is just beginning — I mean, a literal wintry mix, outside —, and I’m thinking about old-fashioned Christmases, like the one pictured above. That’s my mom in the 1950s. As my dad was fond of saying, tinsel used to be better: look how straight it hung! By the time I came along, tinsel had devolved into a static-y mess.
Also, Christmas used to be snowier, didn’t it?
Check out that snow cave! And that tree, more like a shrub. Oh, 1974! The best of times.
But, oh dear, I seem to have been having boot problems! I was (and still sometimes am) plagued by such things. You too? Maybe? That’s my sister Ruth helping out.
Even though one does like to improve and grow up and all that, there’s also something pleasing about still being the same little girl I once was. Fussiness about boots (and too-tight-too-loose shoelaces) is maybe not the most endearing thing, but I’m ok with it.
That said, I am on the lookout, especially around Christmas and New Year’s, for what’s to come, each bump and turn seeming to point me in a new direction.
An end-of-semester poem assignment I gave my undergrads seems apropos of “what’s to come.” After my students and I visited poet Tom Andrews’ archives at WVU (Tom was a WV native), I asked the students to imagine far into the future: what if someday they each had archival materials stored in a library? What might their archives consist of? Drafts of poems, sure, but what else?
T., who is in the ROTC, said her uniform would be in her archives. F. said his archives would include all the semi-embarrassing writing he did when he was younger and using a pseudonym. H. said boarding passes, game tickets, and art, gifted and made. B said her baby book would definitely be included. Other students mentioned playlists and favorite books (Blood Meridian; A Tree Grows in Brooklyn) and recipes and lucky charms and “embroidered homemade patches.” As usual, asking a simple question yielded such interesting answers, which is one thing I really enjoy about teaching.
A poem assignment naturally arose: write a poem addressed to someone exploring your archives or even just going through your stuff, someday, in a basement or attic. The results were surprising and poignant. Try it yourself and see.
Me being me, whenever I look ahead, I also look to the past. In terms of gifts and lessons, especially, I’ve recently been thinking about little things I learned from older people other than my parents. For example, my Aunt Irene always insisted on warming dinner plates. She would chastise anyone who tried to serve her a hot dinner on a cold plate. And, yeah, good idea! Nowadays I also pop plates in the oven for a few minutes to warm them up.
What are some other examples of small things you learned from an older relative or a teacher or neighbor? These things could make a lovely little homemade book...
No post of Cake & Poetry would be complete without some baking. Last year, I shared several Christmas favorites. This year, I’m a little behind, but here’s what I’ve got so far: Pull Apart Rolls, Double Chocolate Cookies (one of those back-of-the-bag recipes that really is so good), Apricot Danish (used this Kringle recipe and added apricot filling), Chocolate Chip Gingerbread Cake (made in cute little Bundt pans that, for the first time ever, got stuck — must have been the molasses — and thus not pictured in a pretty way), and the star of this year’s baking, Chocolate Christmas Wreath Bread (using this recipe for the dough and this one for the sugar and butter proportions to go with mini chocolate chips).
The wreath is especially delicious and reminds me of the Chocolate Horns from favorite Detroit area bakeries such as Zeman’s. Not a pastry horn like you might be thinking of, but a bread and chocolate situation — with, usually, a drizzle of chocolate icing. I decided (dumbly) to forgo that part (this time).
When I think of Christmases past and of all-time memorable gifts, I think of my dear old Pup, a gift from my sister Ellen, c. 1976. Pup has had many a tear cried upon him, and in much more recent years, he has survived the washing machine. He’s also been on a lot of trips, including to Myrtle Beach, c. 1980.
I’ll never forget opening the box (a shoebox, if I’m remembering correctly) that contained Pup and loving him immediately and thinking he was, despite his name, also maybe a bear. I dunno.
Another conversation starter / classroom icebreaker / coffee table book idea: favorite gifts, like Pup, with photos from then and now. I think I might use that in class this coming semester...
I began by talking about gifts and Gifts, so it seems fitting to end with one of each. First, a Christmas poem I stumbled upon in truly nondescript book of “famous poems.”
Can’t say I’ve ever read this one before and Phillips Brooks looks a little too serious, but just think: the 1800s! What year was this exactly, I wonder. And what else was happening in the world? So much, no doubt. “Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight!” Talk about poignant. I do love those commas and that exclamation point. Grammatical, sure, but something else too. (Often, the punctuation is where the emotion is...) So that was one gift, happened upon.
As for Gifts this year, one big one for me has been the discovery of weaving. I’m still not sure what to think of the practice or the results. A good thing, still revealing itself. Here’s my most recent weaving, the biggest one yet, #39, the shape / size / color / texture, I hope, of things (on and off the loom) to come:
Whichever holidays you celebrate and in whatever ways, I hope these final days are punctuated by unexpected gifts and Gifts. The end of December is always a little strange, isn’t it? Enjoy!