Country roads

“You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen…” but did you
know that Gene Autry did NOT write “Rudolph The Red-Nosed
Reindeer”? It’s humiliating to realize I’ve been in error for 70
years. A copywriter for Montgomery Ward named Robert L. May created
the story in 1939.
He wrote it in verse as a series of rhyming couplets, reading
his story lines to his four year old daughter. She, of course, was
delighted with the story and so was Montgomery Ward. The store
issued copies of it during World War II but it wasn’t printed
commercially until 1947. A small nine minute cartoon was drawn for
the theatre in 1948; in 1949 May’s brother-in-law, songwriter
Johnny Marks, put the story to music. Gene Autry’s wife convinced
him to record it and the first year it sold two million records,
second only to Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.” Burl Ives’
narration of the television special debuted in 1964 so that Rudolph
could delight little children while the snow monster with the big
teeth scared the livin’ mistletoe out of them. (Remember, this was
the 60s, before “Aliens.”)
It seems timely to wonder a little about the traditions we carry
on as though they always were. Alas, as usual, at some time they
weren’t. Take that merry fellow with the red cheeks and the
ho-ho-ho.
No one knows when Nicholas was born, but his death is believed
to have occurred in 340 A.D. He was the Bishop of Myra, a town in
present day Turkey. Known for having a humble and generous spirit,
St. Nicholas became the patron saint of Russia, of Greek sailors,
of French lawyers, of Belgian children and travelers. His remains
were stolen in 1087 by sailors from Italy (an in-your-face move
against the Greek sailors, for sure) and brought from Turkey to
Bari, Italy. As a direct consequence of having his bones on
European soil, many churches were named in his honor throughout the
continent. In the 12th century, the church gave him an official
feast day, Dec.6, making it a day of gift giving and charity.
After the Reformation, St. Nicholas’ followers dwindled except
in Holland. There, the Dutch children continued to place their
wooden shoes by the fireplace in hopes that Sint Nikolaas or Sinter
Klaas (Dutch version) soon would be there placing treats in their
shoes. Undoubtedly it was beneficial to have big feet, preferably
dry.
In America, it was these same Dutch colonists that brought their
Sinter Klaas to our shores, where it was Anglicanized by the
British into Santa Claus. The remaining accoutrements of Santa were
created by Clement C. Moore’s poem in 1822, written as a gift to
his children and entitled “A Visit From Saint Nicholas”.
We have Germany to thank for the Christmas tree – particularly
one German, Prince Albert, the husband of Queen Victoria. It was
the official holiday picture of their large family, gathered around
the palace’s colorful, lighted indoor tree that marked the
beginning of England’s historic Victorian Christmases.
Bringing greenery into our homes is perhaps the oldest tradition
of all, going back to the dark ages when, to combat long, cold
winters without electricity and air freshener, folks brought boughs
indoors, releasing their evergreen pungent fragrance and reminding
them that life continued.
One of the most beautiful of holiday plants, Euphorbia
pulcherrima, better known as Poinsettia, often gets a bad rap as
being poisonous. It isn’t. Some of the Euphorbias are, but not this
one. You can bring the lovely plants inside and not worry about
your cat, puppy or two year old. An interesting fact or two about
the plant: it is named after the U.S. ambassador to Mexico, Joel R.
Poinsett, who gratefully brought the plant home from its native
Mexico in 1828. The bright red petals are actually the top leaves
turned color, rather than an actual flower.
Lastly, the legend of the candy cane is traced back to the 17th
century where white stick candy was made for decorating the
Christmas trees. They soon were bent into shepherds’ crooks, in
remembrance of the visitors to the Nativity scene, but I think more
likely some smart housewives tired of picking up candy cane shards
under the tree as they came crashing through the boughs. One little
crook and, voila!, it held on.
A clever choirmaster in the Cologne Cathedral is said to have
collected a large host of candy canes to distribute to the children
at the church service, the better to hear his Christmas Cantata by
Bach.
Speaking of Bach, I must “bach up” and give credit to the Web
for all the information it provided. It won’t replace my favorite
resource on the shelf above me, a 1962 set of Encyclopedia
Britannica, but the Web is amazing.
My sister tells me I should get rid of these big books but I
don’t want to totally rely on things electronic. (We lost five days
of power last winter.) And, every so often, I find the preserved
face of a pansy, pressed in wax paper, and placed inside the pages
by somebody. My mom used to do that and she taught us to do that as
well. It’s one of those traditions I take for granted until I give
it some thought.
Renee Kiff writes from Alexander Valley every other week for The
Healdsburg Tribune.