Wednesday 3 November 2004

Pic of the day: Even in Japan, they celebrate Christmas. But not like we did. (Screenshot from the anime Boys Be, episode 11.)

Christmas memories

Still searching for the theme song for this year's NaNoWriMo, I dug through my plastic bags with old CDs and found The Julekalender by Travellin' Strawberries. I played through several of their songs. Most of them are in a mix of Norwegian and English, which is their main claim to fame. But there was also one in pure Norwegian book language. It was about childhood memories of Christmas. I believe it was meant to be a mild parody; I think so due to the humorous nature of the series and the number of really over-used stereotypes (clichés) in the lyrics. The melody itself was also very typical "good old days".

What struck me now, however, was that it was true. I had most of those memories. Perhaps we all have, from my generation and up. But I am not so sure about the kids today. How many these days have ever seen the ice roses on a window? When I was a child, we had simple glass panes between the living room and the winter outside. The glass became very cold, of course, and it became cold on the inside as well. We were not overly concerned about that, we had plenty of wood to burn so the room was hot enough. But the water vapor in the air froze directly to ice on the inside of the window glass. It formed patterns that could remind one of flowers. These were called "ice roses". Today my childhood home has double-insulated windows, so the inside is never cold even when the outside is. My apartment here has triple-insulated windows. They let the sun through but trap the heat. Nobody living in such a house will ever see an ice rose.

My mother actually did knit. She did that a lot, as did her mother before her. I tried to learn knitting when I was young, but it was too complex for me. Or I was not patient enough, perhaps. It was simply not my thing. Of course, even back then very few boys knitted. Now I think most grown women avoid it too, as it takes up too much time they could use on other things. They have their own career, after all, and their friends as well as the family. There simply isn't time for slow hobbies. Although I suppose they can do it while watching TV. It's probably not a big part of their lives, though, since machine-knitted stuff is cheaper than even the raw materials for hand knitting.

You may have a hard time believing this, since I'm still less than half a century old. But we actually made thread from wool. I am not making this up. We had sheep, lots of sheep, and sheared the wool off them. Well, I did not, but my father and my brother were quite competent. Most of the wool was sold, of course, but we kept some. I assume it was washed somehow, I can't remember that. But I remember that it was fluffed and made regular by working it with two objects similar to rough brushes. When this was done correctly, we could make it into thread. I am not sure I could have shown a kid how to do this now, even if I had the tools; I was rather small and besides I already lived in the future back then. Traditions were not a big thing for me. But I think I could still have found it out with a little experimentation. Always good to know if civilization should happen to collapse. By the time you read this, Bush will have won the US Presidential election... ^_^

Anyway, back to Christmas memories. I remember we used to have a Christmas tree each year. Normally this was spruce. They grow wild now, but usually they were planted. Planting spruce was a kind of investment. If you planted them in regular rows, they would grow into excellent timber, each tree being the same size and shape as its neighbor. Botanic industry. Anyway, there was usually a spruce of suitable size. I believe my family planted a few scattered trees specifically for Christmas trees, actually. I believe we had some in a corner of the garden some years. I remember decorating the trees, I remember the smell of them, the sticky sap, the needles. But I can't believe I will ever have such a thing myself. I don't really celebrate Christmas, although I don't go around warning those who do about idolatry, hell and damnation either. But I wouldn't want to witness a plant die slowly for such a purpose, myself. Or, more prosaically, waste my time and money. To each their own.

But why go on and on? I am sure most of my readers have Christmas memories. I understand that even in Japan they celebrate Christmas. I guess I just see an irony in this, that I remember it so vividly even though I have no interest in it any longer. It is one of the many things that have faded from my life. Fading, fading ... always things are fading out of my life, and still there is not enough time for what is left. Our tasks will always expand to take all available time, won't they? Even when no one makes their own woolen thread anymore. Or their own sausage. Yes, we did that as well. So many things ... a whole other life, a whole other time. Now just memories, and one day gone forever.