Following is my "blog-talk" for December, which I performed this past weekend at the monthly "Postcards From Whidbey Island" variety show here in Coupeville, USA. Next month's shows are Jan. 15-16 at the historic Crockett Barn. Merry Christmas, everybody!
You know what I enjoy most about the holiday season on the Rock? Wherever I go, it’s as if the last 50 years never happened. I see hand-painted snowmen along Main Street in Coupeville made out of plain old plywood. They aren’t animatronic and they don’t sing “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town” . . . over and over and over. I haven’t seen a single Jumbotron outside a church, scrolling the words to such forgettable modern carols as “Mommy Met Jesus Tonight.” I did not make that up! And, I’ve seen only a few outdoor light displays that require computer software and a digital sound board to perform their coordinated blinking and blaring.
Nope, that’s not how we do it on the Rock. We go in for just a few strings of lights . . . some even with colored bulbs, not all clear white . . . and they usually don’t twinkle. How refreshing is that! I actually saw somebody stringing tinsel on their tree – of course it was vinyl, not the aluminum kind I knew as a kid, and it was probably made in China from recycled TVs and cell phones. But it was still tinsel . . . and they were putting it on strand by strand. Next thing you know, Mommy will be kissing Santa Claus tonight!
A couple weeks ago we enjoyed a true holiday tradition here on the Rock. We attended the annual ladies’ luncheon and holiday bazaar at the Coupeville United Methodist Church. I doubt the menu and the merchandise have changed much since 1955.
Nope, that’s not how we do it on the Rock. We go in for just a few strings of lights . . . some even with colored bulbs, not all clear white . . . and they usually don’t twinkle. How refreshing is that! I actually saw somebody stringing tinsel on their tree – of course it was vinyl, not the aluminum kind I knew as a kid, and it was probably made in China from recycled TVs and cell phones. But it was still tinsel . . . and they were putting it on strand by strand. Next thing you know, Mommy will be kissing Santa Claus tonight!
A couple weeks ago we enjoyed a true holiday tradition here on the Rock. We attended the annual ladies’ luncheon and holiday bazaar at the Coupeville United Methodist Church. I doubt the menu and the merchandise have changed much since 1955.
We dined on chicken casserole with green beans mixed in and topped with buttery bread crumbs. And Jell-O salad with chopped cranberries and walnuts. And a soft dinner roll – distinctly unFrench and not the least bit crusty. Then choice of homemade pie . . . I chose mince and it tasted just like my Grandma Esther’s. Followed by a cup of hot tea poured from a pot covered by a hand-knit cozy. I closed my eyes for a moment and it felt as if Eisenhower was still in the White House and all I wanted for Christmas was my two front teeth.
Thanks to the delicious Methodist lunch, we were fortified for the difficult challenge ahead. Finding all those unique gifts “from Whidbey” that our mainland folks now expect from us. So, that afternoon we began our annual trek to the church bazaars, holiday markets, boutiques, galleries, wood carvers, potters, purveyors of local-grown food and rummage sales.
The first thing I bought was a loaf of pumpkin-cider bread baked by the Coupeville Methodist ladies. Let’s hope it didn’t spoil in the UPS truck on the trek to my sister-in-law in Syracuse. I also bought a hand-knit Methodist toaster cozy for my niece in Phoenix . . . but unfortunately she called to say it doesn’t fit her new, digital combination bread-browner and panini grill. I doubt the Methodist ladies make a cozy to fit that.
Then we headed for a host of other bazaars and came back with lots of uniquely Whidbey gifts. A wreath made out of bird seed . . . two jars of loganberry jam . . . a lavender sachet to keep your sock drawer from smelling . . . a half dozen pieces of lefse from the Lutheran ladies that I sent to my Texas friends, who mistook them for tortillas . . . a couple potholders made out of the Swedish flag . . . a table centerpiece of tastefully sprayed pine cones . . . a bee’s wax candle mounted in a holder made of mussel shells . . . a driftwood garden sign painted with a warning that trespassers will be composted . . . a barometer mounted on a hand-carved cedar branch that fell across a power line last winter. How Whidbey can you get?
Then, after shopping’s done, come those wonderful holiday occasions known as open houses. On the Rock, however, they come with a peculiar danger. I speak, of course, of re-gifting . . or, more precisely, accidentally giving the same useless object or cheap bottle of wine back to the person who gave it to you.
Re-gifting something to the person who palmed it off on you can create an awkward moment anywhere. But the risk is higher on the Rock because too many of us get invited to the same holiday gatherings. So, I invite you to imagine this scenario as yours truly arrives at a holiday open house in Freeland with a bottle of wine for my hosts. I grab the bottle as I run out the door, not paying too much attention. I can’t remember who gave it to me.
Thanks to the delicious Methodist lunch, we were fortified for the difficult challenge ahead. Finding all those unique gifts “from Whidbey” that our mainland folks now expect from us. So, that afternoon we began our annual trek to the church bazaars, holiday markets, boutiques, galleries, wood carvers, potters, purveyors of local-grown food and rummage sales.
The first thing I bought was a loaf of pumpkin-cider bread baked by the Coupeville Methodist ladies. Let’s hope it didn’t spoil in the UPS truck on the trek to my sister-in-law in Syracuse. I also bought a hand-knit Methodist toaster cozy for my niece in Phoenix . . . but unfortunately she called to say it doesn’t fit her new, digital combination bread-browner and panini grill. I doubt the Methodist ladies make a cozy to fit that.
Then we headed for a host of other bazaars and came back with lots of uniquely Whidbey gifts. A wreath made out of bird seed . . . two jars of loganberry jam . . . a lavender sachet to keep your sock drawer from smelling . . . a half dozen pieces of lefse from the Lutheran ladies that I sent to my Texas friends, who mistook them for tortillas . . . a couple potholders made out of the Swedish flag . . . a table centerpiece of tastefully sprayed pine cones . . . a bee’s wax candle mounted in a holder made of mussel shells . . . a driftwood garden sign painted with a warning that trespassers will be composted . . . a barometer mounted on a hand-carved cedar branch that fell across a power line last winter. How Whidbey can you get?
Then, after shopping’s done, come those wonderful holiday occasions known as open houses. On the Rock, however, they come with a peculiar danger. I speak, of course, of re-gifting . . or, more precisely, accidentally giving the same useless object or cheap bottle of wine back to the person who gave it to you.
Re-gifting something to the person who palmed it off on you can create an awkward moment anywhere. But the risk is higher on the Rock because too many of us get invited to the same holiday gatherings. So, I invite you to imagine this scenario as yours truly arrives at a holiday open house in Freeland with a bottle of wine for my hosts. I grab the bottle as I run out the door, not paying too much attention. I can’t remember who gave it to me.
In the car I notice what it is. Somebody must have bought it at Trader Joe’s. It’s that brand known politely as a “pretty good cheap wine.” But most of us know it by its price tag – Two Buck Chuck. I hope the pretty wine gift carrier it’s in will hide the label on the bottle. My hosts greet me warmly at the door.
“Sarah and Dave, thanks so much for inviting me! Happy holidays!” I say, handing them the bottle. “Here’s a little holiday cheer . . . I hope you enjoy it!”
I am horrified as Sarah pulls the wine out of gift bag and looks at it. Isn’t that against the rules here on the Rock? Isn’t she supposed to wait until later, when everybody’s gone and she can’t remember who brought it?
“Oh,” Sarah says. “It’s Charles Shaw cabernet . . . Fresno, 2009.” She pauses. “Um. We’ve had this, I think,” she says, faking a smile. “Somebody got us several bottles at Trader Joe’s in Seattle. But I think we gave away our last one. What a beautiful wine gift bag! It looks just like one I bought. We, uh, do have similar tastes, don’t we!”
Then somebody else comes in behind me and briefly interrupts this awkward moment. I see Sarah lean over to Dave and mutter a few words I can distinctly make out. “He brought us back the Two Buck Chuck in the same gift bag. Can you believe it?”
My eyes meet Sarah and Dave’s. Busted. I feel the blood rushing to my forehead and my palms start to sweat. How do I get out of this re-gifting nightmare?
“Well, I hope you enjoy the wine. Looks like you have quite a crowd coming, so I’ll head on in,” I say.
“We’ll catch up later in the evening,” Dave says. Then he adds, “Um. Would you mind putting the Two Buck Chuck over there on the table with the other wine?”
I nod sheepishly and slink away. I set the bottle next to the expensive vintages on the table and quickly move to another part of the room before anybody sees me. I engage in idle chatter with somebody I don’t know. Then I make a mental note to myself. Next year bring Swedish flag potholders or a barometer on a cedar branch!
That’s what I mean about the terrible dangers of re-gifting on the Rock. Too much cheap wine, too few people! Let’s be careful out there!
Anyway . . . Merry Christmas, everybody!
“Sarah and Dave, thanks so much for inviting me! Happy holidays!” I say, handing them the bottle. “Here’s a little holiday cheer . . . I hope you enjoy it!”
I am horrified as Sarah pulls the wine out of gift bag and looks at it. Isn’t that against the rules here on the Rock? Isn’t she supposed to wait until later, when everybody’s gone and she can’t remember who brought it?
“Oh,” Sarah says. “It’s Charles Shaw cabernet . . . Fresno, 2009.” She pauses. “Um. We’ve had this, I think,” she says, faking a smile. “Somebody got us several bottles at Trader Joe’s in Seattle. But I think we gave away our last one. What a beautiful wine gift bag! It looks just like one I bought. We, uh, do have similar tastes, don’t we!”
Then somebody else comes in behind me and briefly interrupts this awkward moment. I see Sarah lean over to Dave and mutter a few words I can distinctly make out. “He brought us back the Two Buck Chuck in the same gift bag. Can you believe it?”
My eyes meet Sarah and Dave’s. Busted. I feel the blood rushing to my forehead and my palms start to sweat. How do I get out of this re-gifting nightmare?
“Well, I hope you enjoy the wine. Looks like you have quite a crowd coming, so I’ll head on in,” I say.
“We’ll catch up later in the evening,” Dave says. Then he adds, “Um. Would you mind putting the Two Buck Chuck over there on the table with the other wine?”
I nod sheepishly and slink away. I set the bottle next to the expensive vintages on the table and quickly move to another part of the room before anybody sees me. I engage in idle chatter with somebody I don’t know. Then I make a mental note to myself. Next year bring Swedish flag potholders or a barometer on a cedar branch!
That’s what I mean about the terrible dangers of re-gifting on the Rock. Too much cheap wine, too few people! Let’s be careful out there!
Anyway . . . Merry Christmas, everybody!
