Huginn and Munnnin
I’m on one of those fun people who can’t keep themselves from trying to remind everyone exactly how much of Christmas, both secular and Christian, was borrowed, purloined or straight up ripped off from the ancient pagan traditions, including but not limited to Christmas trees, Yule logs, holly and mistletoe, the use of red and green, caroling, gift giving, the virgin birth and the emergence of a savior child.
Santa Claus himself even has a pagan origin, as the Norse god Odin. In ancient times, on the winter solstice, Odin would mount up on his eight-legged horse Sleipnir and gallop about, terrifying unwary villagers who were out on the darkest night of the year, but also slipping down chimneys and fire holes, delivering candy and toys to good children who left out straw in their shoes for Sleipnir.
Yes, in time, that was transmogrified into Saint Nicholas, and then to Santa Claus. But, he started as Odin.
In addition to Sleipnir, Odin had two other pets; a pair of ravens called Huginn (Thought) and Munnnin (Memory). He gave them the ability to speak and tasked them with travelling through Midgard (Earth) to bring him information.
That’s right, those birds were the world’s first reporters. Their task was not only to inform and observe in the present but also to serve as the keepers of the past.
As 2018 comes to a close, it’s time for the Times to do its annual year in review. Each of our four papers does them, and each editor has their own methodology for making it happen.
Me, I go through each issue and copy and paste article copy and photos from things that fit my criteria, then I spend several days doing a slash-and-burn edit to make it somehow fit. This process can be maddening, but every year I’m amazed at how many things I have forgotten that were “big news” during the year.
This led me to wonder how many things in one’s personal life suffer the same fate. How many “big moments” get lost in the turning of the year and the passage of weeks? In addition to being the Times editor, I’m a wife, I’m the mom of a young child and I have a farm full of animals; plus I’m on the board of a nonprofit, so my days and nights are busy.
So, it’s natural that life’s relentless pace will grind down memories or just hide the older ones behind newer ones. Plus, I’m not as young as I used to be, so my memory in general isn’t what it was. (Dear younger-than-me women: Once you get pregnant your memory will be permanently damaged. Mine used to be nearly photographic. Now I need a list to remember to brush my hair. The doctors will not tell you this. A little tip from me to you.)
So as the year whiles away, take some time to think about the memories, both big and small that made up your year. Don’t let them slip away. Call out to Huginn and Munnnin, to Thought and Memory, and remember this year in all its difficulty and glory.
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Merry Yule, Happy Hanukah and anything and everything else. See you next year.
Heather Bailey is the Editor of the Windsor Times.
