As many of you know, I recently started working for a company that specializes in retail construction. Our clients are corporations with a multitude of locations, which they pay us to make presentable.
As soon as I filled out the paperwork and accepted the job offer, I was nervous. I've never done retail construction... I've mostly worked within an hour of home. Now, I have a job where I never actually meet the client (hell, I have yet to actually meet my boss), and am states away from home. My preparation for this first venture out was one day of work an hour and a half away from where I'm living, with two guys I'd never met, one of whom had to leave halfway through the day for a company meeting about how to deal with new hires who are having trouble keeping pace with people who've been working there for a while. It seems that almost everyone I'm working with specializes in painting... which kind of sucks for me because I, allegedly, specialize in finish carpentry, but painting is easier. So, while I'm building framing for store signs and figuring out how to fit these signs over pre-existing shelving units without leaving any of the mounting visible, the guys who have been working here longer will be rolling paint on the walls and helping me while it dries.
This is not to say I'm the only carpenter. Actually, I've been, for the past few days, sort of assigned to follow one of the guys who everyone seems to go to for answers. A Mexican Wizard of Oz of retail construction, if you will. But this brings me back to my first day of work. Actually, it brings me back to a few days before my first day of work. To protect the (possibly) innocent, I will slightly change his name. When I turned in my paperwork, and was given my work assignments for the coming weeks, the women in the office told me I would be working under this guy, and that I would have to pay attention (which, if you know me well, you will know is my strong suit.... getting distracted and thinking about how awesome it would be if I could shoot spider webs out of my wrists is not), because he would just do his work and expect me to learn. The guys in Hemet, where I spent my first sweat drenched day told me, "Oh, you're working with Raymondo? Haha... watch out, he will work right over you. He doesn't stop to explain what he's doing."... so... I was obviously excited to chase after Raymondo trying to figure out what he was doing and why, so I could duplicate it on the next job. Add to this the fact that Raymondo tells me, "Every job is different, so you have to always figure things out as you go, but do it the same way.", and perhaps understand how desperately I am trying to convince everyone (including myself) that I know what I'm doing.
I admit, this all sounds more dramatic than it actually is. The work is really not as stressful as it seems, and it's not like the work that I'm used to, where (if I do something wrong) people could perhaps die, or be injured, or have their house flooded or burned down. Basically, what we do is fix as many things as the corporate office (of whichever store we're working in) thinks necessary in order to please as many customers as possible, while spending as little money as they can. "Oh, a thousand linoleum tiles are cracked or severely stained and need replaced, and it will take a week to get that all done?... well, how about you replace the cracked ones with whatever color tile you have as long as it's close enough and we call it good?". My work is to what needs done as lipstick is to pig.
They had told me, also, when I was turning in my paperwork, that there was the option of going to either Colorado or Arizona. Having been to Arizona, I knew two things: 1) It's July, Arizona is going to be somewhere near the temperature of 95% of a Hot Pocket fresh out of the microwave (but not the 5% in the middle which is somehow still frozen after two minutes on high), and 2) going somewhere I've already been won't give me the chance to shade in another state on my map of America. I told them I'd take Colorado, and began researching Colorado breweries that weren't Coors as soon as I got back to my computer. I decided that I would go to at least two breweries while I was here, possibly three if time allowed. 1) Great Divide Brewery whose Yeti Imperial Stout is ranked #44 on the American Home Brewer's Association's list of the best beers in America for 2011, 2) Breckenridge Brewery, which I have heard very good things about (http://bitesnbrews.com/2011/07/breckenridge-foods/ here), and possibly 3) Oskar Blue's brewery whose Dale's IPa and Ten Fiddy Imperial Stout ranked 16th and 31st, respectively. I also thought, time permitting, I would like to get close enough at least to touch part of the rocky mountains. While I do not care to taste the Rockies (if they taste anything like that bland, fizzy, yellow beer that defiles their image), I would very much like to see and feel and smell them.
The first day we were here was spent at two different stores, and we did not get back to the hotel until after nine. Just enough time to heat up some dinner (purchased at Walmart), take a shower, call some people (you know who you are), and go to bed. After having flown out here at 6:35 am, I was all too eager to get to bed. Today, the second day, we stayed in one store, trying to finish as much of it as possible. What with waking (alliteration is fun) up at 6 to get the free hotel breakfast and get to home depot, and all the rain flooding the streets... oh, and the fact that I don't actually have my own transportation... today turned out to be a bad day to try out any of those breweries. And, since I've found out that tonight is our last night in Denver before moving on to Fountain, and Colorado Springs, I'm guessing that I won't be able to try those beers in the brewery where they were made, and cross them off of my list. All is not lost, however, in my quest to taste good beer in Colorado. After getting to the hotel at a decent hour tonight, we decided to go to a little bar across the street for dinner and much deserved drinks. Though it's close enough to walk, we chose to drive because none of us counted on all of this rain, and failed to bring anything waterproof. Raylondo doesn't drink, so he stayed at the hotel and watched futbol while the other three of us went out. The guy I'm rooming with is young... and white (since I know you're all wondering if I only work with Mexicans)... and appreciates craft beer. The other guy likes Bud Light, and Corona; and as my room-mate for the weeks said, "People who like that stuff.... they'll never learn what good beer is.". At the bar, I had a bacon cheeseburger calzone (so damn good), a pint of some beer called "hazed and infused", which the bartender told me was "a really nice ale which is dry hopped, so it's more like an IPA", a pint of O'Dell's IPA, and a pint of "Colorado Native" Lager. The bartender told me that Colorado Native is brewed by Coors (which is not entirely true. It's brewed by AC Golden Brewing, a micro-brewery owned by Coors which operates out of Coors' headquarters). With the knowledge that Colorado Native is brewed by Coors, I immediately decided not to drink it. That is until my room mate had one and said it was really good. I had one. Then another. It's a lager, which I generally don't like... but somehow it tastes more like an amber ale got mixed with a honey wheat ale. It's really very delicious. I kind of wish that Coors would stop making it's signature lager and just start making this, but then I would have to like Coors, and I'm not ready to do that. Afterward, when my co-workers wanted to go out to another place, I (being the party animal that I am) opted instead to go next door to the liquor store to see if they had any interesting Colorado beers, and walk back to my hotel room... where I am now blogging. The liquor store had cans of Oskar Blue's Dale's IPA, which I bought and plan to share with my co-workers (it is my mission to convert the Corona Drinker to a Craft Beer drinker). While I have not been able to do all of the things I would like to do here in Denver, I am content in the fact that I was able to taste O'Dell's IPA (22nd on the top beer list), buy a pack of the 16th best beer in America in the state where it was made, and find a good beer made by a bad beer company. Perhaps the rest of the week in Colorado will bring more excitement. And maybe, if they ever have me come back out here (as I'm told is likely), I will have enough time beforehand to drive here myself and camp in the Rocky Mountains, and go experience these breweries which are trying to redeem Colorado's name in the beer drinking world.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Anti-Gun nuts take aim
I am not what most people would call political. I generally believe that political discussions and debates among common people are fruitless and unnecessary, and I do my best to avoid them. While I also believe that the Government serves the people better as it inserts itself into their lives less, I am no conspiracy theorist. I don't believe that vapor trails from airplanes are the result of the Government spraying drugs into the atmosphere to make us docile (if they are, they need stronger drugs because these ones aren't working), or that every person who runs for office does so with villainous intent (It's probably only about 75% of them)... but I do believe that something needs to be said about what certain politicians are doing to actively and intentionally strip American citizens of their freedoms. Specifically, the restrictions being placed of people's ability to carry guns in this state.
I am not a gun nut, I am not a member of the NRA (though that is mostly because I have other things to spend my money on). I am not some asshole who likes guns because he thinks it means he's bad-ass, nor am I paranoid or afraid that I might be attacked by criminals at any moment.
I didn't own a gun at all until I was 28, unless you count the b.b. gun I had as a kid, and still don't own a pistol (yet). I am just a man who likes the idea of self reliance and believes, as the authors of the Constitution did, that the Government should be ruled by the people, not the other way around.
The United States Constitution says, in no uncertain terms (or so I would think if not for the fact that so many people seem uncertain about them), "A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." Now, there seems to be some confusion about what this means, so I will attempt to break it down. The translation, if not into plain English then at least into more specifically defined terms, is this:
Because a thoroughly, and carefully, maintained and ordered group of citizen soldiers is essential for the protection and defense of an undominated and self directed political organization or group of people of a specific character or occupying a certain territory, the just claim of every person to be able and allowed to retain possession of and bring, carry, convey, transport, or have weapons on or with them will not and must not be violated or encroached upon.
So, to simplify... because freedom belongs, by right, to every human being, no person or group can (nor should) force another person to go unarmed, nor hinder them from doings so if they choose.
What is interesting to me about this is that they didn't say, "...being necessary, at this time,...", they said it is necessary... That self government can not exist if people are not equipped to protect themselves.
Yet, just the other day, Assembly members in California voted in favor of a bill to ban open carry of an unloaded fire arm in public (not their first infringement either, by the way). What that means, for those unfamiliar with the terms, is that they would make it illegal for otherwise law abiding citizens to have, carry, or transport a clearly visible gun, even without bullets in it, anywhere except in the privacy of their own homes. Now, if that doesn't count as infringement, I don't know what does.
Proponents of the bill say it's not a second amendment issue, but a public safety issue, or a peace of mind issue, or an economic issue. They say that people shouldn't carry guns in public because things will end badly if armed people lose their tempers (because this is the old west and we all believe the best way to win an argument is with gunfire), They say that people shouldn't carry guns in public because seeing them makes other people scared. They say that people shouldn't carry guns in public because those scared people call the police, and it is a waste of time and money for officers to investigate.
I agree. These are problems, the danger posed by people with guns, the fear in common people who just wanted to go out for coffee, the wasted time and tax payer money spent on investigating non-crimes... but the problem is not that people carry guns in public. The problem is that people are too easily frightened, and don't think logically.
*A criminal is going to carry their gun where you can't see it so you don't know they're a criminal, and you don't know they have a gun (a fair number of law abiding citizens would do this too, and save you the needless fear, if it was really possible to get a concealed weapons permit in California). So, the man with a pistol on one hip and a magazine with bullets on the other means you no harm. You are not in danger from him.
* If you ever have the courage and opportunity to speak with a convicted violent criminal, ask them when they would be more likely to commit a crime... when there are people around who have guns, or when there are not? Actually, don't bother. Just think about it. Would you get violent if you knew someone in the area had a gun and was willing to use it to subdue you? You are, theoretically, safer in the presence of openly armed citizens than you are anywhere else, short of a meeting of the Justice League.
* Police resources and tax payer dollars are wasted every time someone ignores the previous two points and calls 911... It's not because someone has a gun. It's because someone else doesn't think clearly.
To make it illegal for people to carry guns in public is a bit like saying people are allowed to say whatever they want, as long as no one else can hear them. It is stealing from them their fundamental rights, given to them not by the founding fathers but by the simple merit of having been born human.
And somehow, a room full of supposedly well educated State Assembly members failed or neglected to see this, and voted the bill through to the senate... which will hopefully see the tyranny, fear mongering, and flawed logic behind it and vote it down.
Though, if it passes in the senate, and and the governor signs it into law, they will have to issue concealed a weapons permit to any law abiding citizen who wants one, in order to pretend the law is constitutional. So, just try not to think about all the people who will be carrying guns you can't see.
This rare political rant (rare in that I don't often make them, and also in that it was founded on and filled with sound reasoning as political rants almost never are) really didn't even need to be made, I suppose. Even if nothing else I said were true... even if the second amendment didn't promise and defend the human right to protect ourselves, and to carry a gun if we choose to, one statement (the origin of which I am uncertain) is all that should be necessary to stop all of this "gun control" nonsense. Even if you take nothing else away from this blog post, consider the truth of this, "If you make it a crime to carry a gun, the only people carrying guns will be criminals."
I encourage your comments.
I am not a gun nut, I am not a member of the NRA (though that is mostly because I have other things to spend my money on). I am not some asshole who likes guns because he thinks it means he's bad-ass, nor am I paranoid or afraid that I might be attacked by criminals at any moment.
I didn't own a gun at all until I was 28, unless you count the b.b. gun I had as a kid, and still don't own a pistol (yet). I am just a man who likes the idea of self reliance and believes, as the authors of the Constitution did, that the Government should be ruled by the people, not the other way around.
The United States Constitution says, in no uncertain terms (or so I would think if not for the fact that so many people seem uncertain about them), "A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." Now, there seems to be some confusion about what this means, so I will attempt to break it down. The translation, if not into plain English then at least into more specifically defined terms, is this:
Because a thoroughly, and carefully, maintained and ordered group of citizen soldiers is essential for the protection and defense of an undominated and self directed political organization or group of people of a specific character or occupying a certain territory, the just claim of every person to be able and allowed to retain possession of and bring, carry, convey, transport, or have weapons on or with them will not and must not be violated or encroached upon.
So, to simplify... because freedom belongs, by right, to every human being, no person or group can (nor should) force another person to go unarmed, nor hinder them from doings so if they choose.
What is interesting to me about this is that they didn't say, "...being necessary, at this time,...", they said it is necessary... That self government can not exist if people are not equipped to protect themselves.
Yet, just the other day, Assembly members in California voted in favor of a bill to ban open carry of an unloaded fire arm in public (not their first infringement either, by the way). What that means, for those unfamiliar with the terms, is that they would make it illegal for otherwise law abiding citizens to have, carry, or transport a clearly visible gun, even without bullets in it, anywhere except in the privacy of their own homes. Now, if that doesn't count as infringement, I don't know what does.
Proponents of the bill say it's not a second amendment issue, but a public safety issue, or a peace of mind issue, or an economic issue. They say that people shouldn't carry guns in public because things will end badly if armed people lose their tempers (because this is the old west and we all believe the best way to win an argument is with gunfire), They say that people shouldn't carry guns in public because seeing them makes other people scared. They say that people shouldn't carry guns in public because those scared people call the police, and it is a waste of time and money for officers to investigate.
I agree. These are problems, the danger posed by people with guns, the fear in common people who just wanted to go out for coffee, the wasted time and tax payer money spent on investigating non-crimes... but the problem is not that people carry guns in public. The problem is that people are too easily frightened, and don't think logically.
*A criminal is going to carry their gun where you can't see it so you don't know they're a criminal, and you don't know they have a gun (a fair number of law abiding citizens would do this too, and save you the needless fear, if it was really possible to get a concealed weapons permit in California). So, the man with a pistol on one hip and a magazine with bullets on the other means you no harm. You are not in danger from him.
* If you ever have the courage and opportunity to speak with a convicted violent criminal, ask them when they would be more likely to commit a crime... when there are people around who have guns, or when there are not? Actually, don't bother. Just think about it. Would you get violent if you knew someone in the area had a gun and was willing to use it to subdue you? You are, theoretically, safer in the presence of openly armed citizens than you are anywhere else, short of a meeting of the Justice League.
* Police resources and tax payer dollars are wasted every time someone ignores the previous two points and calls 911... It's not because someone has a gun. It's because someone else doesn't think clearly.
To make it illegal for people to carry guns in public is a bit like saying people are allowed to say whatever they want, as long as no one else can hear them. It is stealing from them their fundamental rights, given to them not by the founding fathers but by the simple merit of having been born human.
And somehow, a room full of supposedly well educated State Assembly members failed or neglected to see this, and voted the bill through to the senate... which will hopefully see the tyranny, fear mongering, and flawed logic behind it and vote it down.
Though, if it passes in the senate, and and the governor signs it into law, they will have to issue concealed a weapons permit to any law abiding citizen who wants one, in order to pretend the law is constitutional. So, just try not to think about all the people who will be carrying guns you can't see.
This rare political rant (rare in that I don't often make them, and also in that it was founded on and filled with sound reasoning as political rants almost never are) really didn't even need to be made, I suppose. Even if nothing else I said were true... even if the second amendment didn't promise and defend the human right to protect ourselves, and to carry a gun if we choose to, one statement (the origin of which I am uncertain) is all that should be necessary to stop all of this "gun control" nonsense. Even if you take nothing else away from this blog post, consider the truth of this, "If you make it a crime to carry a gun, the only people carrying guns will be criminals."
I encourage your comments.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Walden Weekends: Wine and Dine
This weekend’s story all started a few months ago, when I went up to my family’s cabin in Twain Hart to drop off some firewood and clear out some brush. I cut up a bunch of Manzanita from the property and took it home, hoping it would be good to use for smoking. After I got home, I did research… by which I mean I typed “smoking with manzanita” into google. As with just about everything I try to research online, most of the results that came back were links to various blogs, message boards, and forums related to the subject, all of which are filled with the smartest people the world has ever known, who have the only opinion on any subject that is worth having. Anyone who disagrees with them is obviously inexperienced, or a moron. What I did, however, learn from researching manzanita on it’s own, without regard to smoking, is that it (and it’s big brother, Madrone) are in the same family as Mesquite… which, as roughly ¼ of the people in internet forums and anyone from the great country of Texas will tell you, is the only wood worth using in your smoker. I would like to get some of these people, smoke one meal with apple, one with mesquite, and see if they can tell which is which.
So it was, with this fresh supply of free hard wood, that I started thinking of a meal to smoke it with. Having made a previous foray into the world of smoking ( http://jakeripper.blogspot.com/2010/11/adventures-in-smoking.html ) and emerged victorious, but realizing that the only thing which had been missing was my girlfriend, I began working on a recipe of sorts, and decided to try it out the first time that she would be in town during warm weather.
To keep with the theme of my weekends lately, and to really show her how beautiful it is up in the mountains around here, I planned a rvery nice day for us, starting with a walk through Big Basin, wine tasting with my mom, older brother, and brother-out-law at Savannah Chanelle winery,
then more wine at Mountain Winery,
and capping it off with chicken smoked over free manzanita (and madrone that I may or may not have stolen from a turn out along the road inside the state park).
The chicken, as I’m sure you’d remember was the case with the pork even if I hadn’t linked it for you to read about up there, was entirely experimental, and I had my family bring other dishes to go along with it just in case it turned out horribly. They were my guinea pigs. I figured I’d try it out on them before I bring some to a guy I know who competes in barbecue contests every year, and another guy I know who owns Blue Rock BBQ and judges barbecue contests. If my family liked it/didn’t get sick, that would be good, but if two barbecue experts like it, that’s a horse of a different color. (I have since given them each half of a chicken, and am awaiting their responses).
If you don’t care about the ingredients or smoking method, skip until just after the picture of the chickens where I’ll tell you how it turned out. Or, if you’re one of those weirdo’s who reads the end of the book first, skip down there and then come back. It’s ok. I’ll wait.
Ok, ready?
On Tuesday, I went to Los Gatos Meats (because I like the idea of buying meat from an old fashioned butcher shop, instead of a big super-market chain. Safeway’s good and all, but Los Gatos Meats is just a little more local, so……) and bought three whole chickens (plucked, beheaded, gutted, sans feet. It’s a butcher shop, not an asian market), and brought them home to marinate. The recipe, which I hope you won’t steal and make money off of, because I plan to use it at my pub some day is as follows:
*Put chickens in a bag or other air-tight/water-tight container
*Peel the skin away as much as you can without tearing it, rub between skin and meat with crushed rosemary, garlic salt, lemon pepper, onion powder, mint, and paprika to taste.
*Douse in extra virgin olive oil, but not to the point where they’re swimming. You don’t need as much if they’re in a bag.
*Smash up a handful of mint leaves and throw them in, under the skin, inside the body. All over.
* Cut open and juice a lemon and an orange, pour in juice, and throw the rest in the bag for good measure.
That was Tuesday. I let it sit in the bag, in the refrigerator, til Saturday, making sure to flip the bag over twice a day so the olive oil mixture would soak in evenly. Meanwhile, because I had planned for the day to be so full, and knew I wouldn’t have much time to smoke the birds slowly, I soaked some of the manzanita in a bucket of water. That way, after I have the heat going, and some of the wood smoking, the wet wood would be making steam, which would help keep the chicken from drying out. Instead of 12 to 18 hours at 140 to 200 degrees, I would be doing about 4 hours at 250 to 300.
On saturday, I prepared the chickens for glory by rubbing their skin with non-iodized salt (because I was afraid the iodine would turn them pink) to help the skin crisp without burning, tying the wings down (and sticking in some sprigs of rosemary) and filled two soda cans with ShockTop (a Belgian style wheat beer with hints of citrus and coriander), and another with water mixed with more lemon and orange juice (because, believe it or not, there are people in this world who don’t like the taste of beer, even if it’s just a minor element among a multitude of others in their food). This not only added a hint of flavor, but helped keep the chicken moist (I’m sorry. I know, you probably hate that word as much as I do) and tender. But this was all in theory. Again, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I was merely going off of what I guessed would work, and hoped for the best.
Here they are, ready to fly or fail.
It would, perhaps, serve you better to talk to the other people who were there, if you know them, to find out if the experiment was a success. The consensus was overwhelmingly positive on both the beer-butt and orange-lemon-water-butt chicken, and I agree that it was good, but I didn’t fully enjoy it because I was concentrating on what I would add more of, or take away a bit of from the recipe. I think that more mint and lemon pepper are in order next time, as are lower heat and longer cooking time. However, nobody threw up that I know of, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. Even Lucky said it was the best chicken she’d had all day… but, considering that the only other chicken she’d had was frozen solid, and she licks her own privates on a regular basis, I don’t tend to take her advice on culinary matters. I prefer to listen to the human guests who said things like, “this is really delicious” or “I think this is actually the best chicken I’ve ever had” or better yet, nothing at all because they were too busy enjoying the meal.
So it was, with this fresh supply of free hard wood, that I started thinking of a meal to smoke it with. Having made a previous foray into the world of smoking ( http://jakeripper.blogspot.com/2010/11/adventures-in-smoking.html ) and emerged victorious, but realizing that the only thing which had been missing was my girlfriend, I began working on a recipe of sorts, and decided to try it out the first time that she would be in town during warm weather.
To keep with the theme of my weekends lately, and to really show her how beautiful it is up in the mountains around here, I planned a rvery nice day for us, starting with a walk through Big Basin, wine tasting with my mom, older brother, and brother-out-law at Savannah Chanelle winery,
then more wine at Mountain Winery,
 |
| Mountain Winery: Now with more Douchey-ness |
and capping it off with chicken smoked over free manzanita (and madrone that I may or may not have stolen from a turn out along the road inside the state park).
The chicken, as I’m sure you’d remember was the case with the pork even if I hadn’t linked it for you to read about up there, was entirely experimental, and I had my family bring other dishes to go along with it just in case it turned out horribly. They were my guinea pigs. I figured I’d try it out on them before I bring some to a guy I know who competes in barbecue contests every year, and another guy I know who owns Blue Rock BBQ and judges barbecue contests. If my family liked it/didn’t get sick, that would be good, but if two barbecue experts like it, that’s a horse of a different color. (I have since given them each half of a chicken, and am awaiting their responses).
If you don’t care about the ingredients or smoking method, skip until just after the picture of the chickens where I’ll tell you how it turned out. Or, if you’re one of those weirdo’s who reads the end of the book first, skip down there and then come back. It’s ok. I’ll wait.
Ok, ready?
On Tuesday, I went to Los Gatos Meats (because I like the idea of buying meat from an old fashioned butcher shop, instead of a big super-market chain. Safeway’s good and all, but Los Gatos Meats is just a little more local, so……) and bought three whole chickens (plucked, beheaded, gutted, sans feet. It’s a butcher shop, not an asian market), and brought them home to marinate. The recipe, which I hope you won’t steal and make money off of, because I plan to use it at my pub some day is as follows:
*Put chickens in a bag or other air-tight/water-tight container
*Peel the skin away as much as you can without tearing it, rub between skin and meat with crushed rosemary, garlic salt, lemon pepper, onion powder, mint, and paprika to taste.
*Douse in extra virgin olive oil, but not to the point where they’re swimming. You don’t need as much if they’re in a bag.
*Smash up a handful of mint leaves and throw them in, under the skin, inside the body. All over.
* Cut open and juice a lemon and an orange, pour in juice, and throw the rest in the bag for good measure.
That was Tuesday. I let it sit in the bag, in the refrigerator, til Saturday, making sure to flip the bag over twice a day so the olive oil mixture would soak in evenly. Meanwhile, because I had planned for the day to be so full, and knew I wouldn’t have much time to smoke the birds slowly, I soaked some of the manzanita in a bucket of water. That way, after I have the heat going, and some of the wood smoking, the wet wood would be making steam, which would help keep the chicken from drying out. Instead of 12 to 18 hours at 140 to 200 degrees, I would be doing about 4 hours at 250 to 300.
On saturday, I prepared the chickens for glory by rubbing their skin with non-iodized salt (because I was afraid the iodine would turn them pink) to help the skin crisp without burning, tying the wings down (and sticking in some sprigs of rosemary) and filled two soda cans with ShockTop (a Belgian style wheat beer with hints of citrus and coriander), and another with water mixed with more lemon and orange juice (because, believe it or not, there are people in this world who don’t like the taste of beer, even if it’s just a minor element among a multitude of others in their food). This not only added a hint of flavor, but helped keep the chicken moist (I’m sorry. I know, you probably hate that word as much as I do) and tender. But this was all in theory. Again, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I was merely going off of what I guessed would work, and hoped for the best.
Here they are, ready to fly or fail.
It would, perhaps, serve you better to talk to the other people who were there, if you know them, to find out if the experiment was a success. The consensus was overwhelmingly positive on both the beer-butt and orange-lemon-water-butt chicken, and I agree that it was good, but I didn’t fully enjoy it because I was concentrating on what I would add more of, or take away a bit of from the recipe. I think that more mint and lemon pepper are in order next time, as are lower heat and longer cooking time. However, nobody threw up that I know of, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. Even Lucky said it was the best chicken she’d had all day… but, considering that the only other chicken she’d had was frozen solid, and she licks her own privates on a regular basis, I don’t tend to take her advice on culinary matters. I prefer to listen to the human guests who said things like, “this is really delicious” or “I think this is actually the best chicken I’ve ever had” or better yet, nothing at all because they were too busy enjoying the meal.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Walden Weekends: Boulder and bolder
First, a few notes on last weekend. On Saturday, I went hiking again at Castle Rock, and went farther than I usually do… which, unfortunately, means I had to hike farther on my way back. I found the back-packing camp that’s out there, and kept going further still.
Sunday, I took Silas up to the rocks for which Castle Rock park is named. Let me tell you (or don’t, I don’t care. I’m mostly doing this for my own sake anyway), if I thought hiking with a three year old was difficult, I had obviously never taken one rock climbing. He was a bit scared at first to go up on top of some of the smaller rocks (roughly the size of a VW Bug stacked on top of another), but gradually I got him up on top of rocks that were more than 35 feet tall. Granted, most of the time I would climb to somewhere stable, grab him, and stick him higher up, then climb ahead and repeat the process. It was difficult, and tiring, but totally worth it. There’s a life lesson in there somewhere but I don’t really care to root it out at the moment. You may do so if you choose.
This weekend:
As I stood atop a small tree stump, at the outset of my hike, I was reminded of the Lorax, as he climbed out of a hole in a freshly chopped trufula stump. I thought how adorable it would be to dress my kid up as the Lorax for Halloween some day. This, by the way, is just about the only kind of planning for the future I ever do. Then I thought, “What if the kid doesn’t want to dress as the Lorax? Eh, who cares what the kid wants? I’ll be the parent, they’ll dress as what I tell them to dress as because I’m in charge, gosh darn it!”.
I thought about environmentalists, and all manner of extremists, who force their children to do things the child doesn’t understand, or teach them what to think instead of how to use logic and reasoning. It is, I believe, a desire common to all people throughout history (if not every person) to impose their own will. We seek to subjugate, to form the world around us into a shape that fits our use for it. We try to force others to view things the way we do, to believe as we believe. I’m speaking of the human race in general… You may feel free to say to me, “I don’t seek to impose my will on anyone or anything.”, but it would obviously be your will that I believe it, and arguing your point would prove it invalid. We put roads where there once were prairies, train tunnels where mountains had been living for a thousand years before. This is not a condemnation, but a statement: Humans attempt to rule. And, in fact, why shouldn’t we? God gave us dominion over all the animals. He told us that it would be our duty to work the land. We are the middle-management of Earth. In creating us, He placed us at the top of the hierarchy of the material world. It is not only our duty, but our divine right to hold power over the world. (I know this because the lady of the lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite told me so)
But what does that mean, power? Power can mean a lot of things, and have a lot of implications, depending on who you ask. What I mean by power is not control, but the ability to cause action, to inflict a result… but I believe it comes with the responsibility to do so with wisdom and prudence. Somewhat like Peter Parker’s uncle Ben said, power and responsibility are directly relational. If a person is placed in a position of power, like the President of the United States, they have a much greater responsibility to the people than someone who is elected treasurer of the homecoming committee. But that power doesn’t mean domination. He’s called the leader of the free world, not the ruler. His job is not to tell people what to do, or make them do what he wants them to, but to influence people’s thinking, and act based on their demands.
And so it is with the relationship between every person and the world around them. We, as humans, have the power to impact the world greatly, but the responsibility to do what is right, and to do it in the right way. It seems we have always had this idea that there is an eternal struggle between man and nature. It’s one of the great themes of fiction. One small person battling against the elements, straining for victory over the wild. We aim to conquer the wilderness, and bring it under our control. We’ve done a decent job of it too in most places. Huge expanses of paved roads stretching from coast to coast protect us from the perils and inconveniences of trying to make our way on foot; we have structures built to keep the sun, wind, rain, animals, and dirt out, and insulate ourselves from even the mildest displeasure this big scary planet of ours might be waiting to unleash on us… but, as anyone who’s ever tried to take a decent picture of a small lizard will tell you (I know, there are thousands of such people. Small lizard photography is very popular), nature doesn’t do what you want it to… it merely lets you do what you want until it’s tired of you. We can build walls to keep the ocean back, but nature doesn’t pay attention to “keep out” signs. We put in sidewalks, but weeds break through. We put up manicured hedgerows and a squirrel plants an oak tree in the middle of them. We plant a lawn, and a mole builds a subway. Our control is only an illusion. The world is wild, and can’t be held back forever. To quote Dr. Ian Malcolm, “Life finds a way”.
This is God’s wild kingdom, we’re just looking after it.
This leads me to a question which, perhaps, one of you out there can answer for me. Who owns the state and national parks? Who says I’m not allowed to go off the trails, or stay there after sunset? Whose land is this? Because it seems to me that if these parks belong to “the government”, and this is a government of the people, by the people, and for the people… the people have a right to use their communal property whenever they want. Right? Honestly, correct me if I’m wrong. I’d like to hear your take on this. The people in power have the responsibility to make sure we (the people) use it responsibly, but it doesn’t seem they have the right to tell us when we can be there, or where we can go. They’re not the President’s parks, Congress’s parks, the government’s parks, or the ranger’s parks. They are the National and State parks, and belong to the people of the nation and the state, to use and care for.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed a theme running through human history… real change is not usually accomplished by force. Sure, there are a great number of times when force in the form of violence has been and is necessary, and used to accomplish a goal of ridding the world of one villain or another, but nobody ever says, “well, you are obviously stronger than I am, I now understand that what I was doing was wrong.”, they say, “You beat me, I’ll do what you want me to do.”. My point is that we have the power to cause change… to impact the future of this world and this planet, but we need to be smart about how we use that power. We cannot force people to change. In my experience, the more you force something, the more likely it is to break. To cause change we cannot use might, but our minds.
Now, if you’re thinking that I’m going to go join the Sierra Club, I’m a little offended. If I was going to join a conservation society, it would not be the Sierra Club, but the NRA. I don’t exactly ascribe to the “Take only memories, leave only footprints” philosophy. I don’t think that every rock, stick, and plant is a leaveitright (as they called it at the science camp I went to in elementary school. “You find a stick, rock, or plant, leaveitright where you found it”). If you’re out in the wild and find a flower you want to press, or put in a vase, go ahead. More will still grow. Just don’t pick all of them because I want to see them too. But I think everyone could benefit from a little more nature in their lives.
Still, anyone can enjoy the beauty of God’s green earth on a screen in their living room, but that’s not good enough for me. For me… this is my living room. This is my church, my library, my theater. This is life, and it’s being stamped out by progress. I wish every person would take advantage of it and fill themselves with it’s beauty… as long as they don’t try to do it at the same time, and in the same place that I am. It amazes me how hard it is to hear the voice of the almighty God over the voices of those created in His image. (there’s another lesson there which I’ll let you find for yourself)
It strikes me that life as a flower would be much easier. Every little flower, as it opens up and turns it’s face toward the sun every day, is fulfilling it’s God-given calling. It is doing exactly what it’s Creator asks of it, and every remote little one of them would keep on doing so for all of its days even if no human eye ever noticed… Nature relentlessly serves and glorifies God just by being what it is, and we should consider ourselves blessed to be part of that worship service. But how much easier it is for flowers, to not have to wonder if they’re doing what they’re supposed to… to not ask God what His greater plan for them is… They simply exist, and that’s enough. But, I suppose there is some consolation in knowing that responsibility and reward are directly relational like power and responsibility are. The greater your responsibility, the greater your reward will be if you live up to what is required of you. While a butterfly fulfills it’s calling by drinking from any flower it chooses, it also doesn’t gain much by doing so.
Perhaps our calling as God’s children isn’t so different from that of flowers. Turn your face toward the light, and Glorify God every day of your life.
I wish everyone prayed in this chapel of mine.
This is me trying to impose my will.
Post Script: I’m sorry for this being so disjointed. These were the thoughts going through my head while I hiked. I had a brilliant essay written in my head, but when I got to the camp ground and sat down to write it, I found I had neglected to pack a note pad… by the time I got to my computer, I had forgotten how it went.
Sunday, I took Silas up to the rocks for which Castle Rock park is named. Let me tell you (or don’t, I don’t care. I’m mostly doing this for my own sake anyway), if I thought hiking with a three year old was difficult, I had obviously never taken one rock climbing. He was a bit scared at first to go up on top of some of the smaller rocks (roughly the size of a VW Bug stacked on top of another), but gradually I got him up on top of rocks that were more than 35 feet tall. Granted, most of the time I would climb to somewhere stable, grab him, and stick him higher up, then climb ahead and repeat the process. It was difficult, and tiring, but totally worth it. There’s a life lesson in there somewhere but I don’t really care to root it out at the moment. You may do so if you choose.
This weekend:
As I stood atop a small tree stump, at the outset of my hike, I was reminded of the Lorax, as he climbed out of a hole in a freshly chopped trufula stump. I thought how adorable it would be to dress my kid up as the Lorax for Halloween some day. This, by the way, is just about the only kind of planning for the future I ever do. Then I thought, “What if the kid doesn’t want to dress as the Lorax? Eh, who cares what the kid wants? I’ll be the parent, they’ll dress as what I tell them to dress as because I’m in charge, gosh darn it!”.
I thought about environmentalists, and all manner of extremists, who force their children to do things the child doesn’t understand, or teach them what to think instead of how to use logic and reasoning. It is, I believe, a desire common to all people throughout history (if not every person) to impose their own will. We seek to subjugate, to form the world around us into a shape that fits our use for it. We try to force others to view things the way we do, to believe as we believe. I’m speaking of the human race in general… You may feel free to say to me, “I don’t seek to impose my will on anyone or anything.”, but it would obviously be your will that I believe it, and arguing your point would prove it invalid. We put roads where there once were prairies, train tunnels where mountains had been living for a thousand years before. This is not a condemnation, but a statement: Humans attempt to rule. And, in fact, why shouldn’t we? God gave us dominion over all the animals. He told us that it would be our duty to work the land. We are the middle-management of Earth. In creating us, He placed us at the top of the hierarchy of the material world. It is not only our duty, but our divine right to hold power over the world. (I know this because the lady of the lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite told me so)
But what does that mean, power? Power can mean a lot of things, and have a lot of implications, depending on who you ask. What I mean by power is not control, but the ability to cause action, to inflict a result… but I believe it comes with the responsibility to do so with wisdom and prudence. Somewhat like Peter Parker’s uncle Ben said, power and responsibility are directly relational. If a person is placed in a position of power, like the President of the United States, they have a much greater responsibility to the people than someone who is elected treasurer of the homecoming committee. But that power doesn’t mean domination. He’s called the leader of the free world, not the ruler. His job is not to tell people what to do, or make them do what he wants them to, but to influence people’s thinking, and act based on their demands.
And so it is with the relationship between every person and the world around them. We, as humans, have the power to impact the world greatly, but the responsibility to do what is right, and to do it in the right way. It seems we have always had this idea that there is an eternal struggle between man and nature. It’s one of the great themes of fiction. One small person battling against the elements, straining for victory over the wild. We aim to conquer the wilderness, and bring it under our control. We’ve done a decent job of it too in most places. Huge expanses of paved roads stretching from coast to coast protect us from the perils and inconveniences of trying to make our way on foot; we have structures built to keep the sun, wind, rain, animals, and dirt out, and insulate ourselves from even the mildest displeasure this big scary planet of ours might be waiting to unleash on us… but, as anyone who’s ever tried to take a decent picture of a small lizard will tell you (I know, there are thousands of such people. Small lizard photography is very popular), nature doesn’t do what you want it to… it merely lets you do what you want until it’s tired of you. We can build walls to keep the ocean back, but nature doesn’t pay attention to “keep out” signs. We put in sidewalks, but weeds break through. We put up manicured hedgerows and a squirrel plants an oak tree in the middle of them. We plant a lawn, and a mole builds a subway. Our control is only an illusion. The world is wild, and can’t be held back forever. To quote Dr. Ian Malcolm, “Life finds a way”.
This is God’s wild kingdom, we’re just looking after it.
This leads me to a question which, perhaps, one of you out there can answer for me. Who owns the state and national parks? Who says I’m not allowed to go off the trails, or stay there after sunset? Whose land is this? Because it seems to me that if these parks belong to “the government”, and this is a government of the people, by the people, and for the people… the people have a right to use their communal property whenever they want. Right? Honestly, correct me if I’m wrong. I’d like to hear your take on this. The people in power have the responsibility to make sure we (the people) use it responsibly, but it doesn’t seem they have the right to tell us when we can be there, or where we can go. They’re not the President’s parks, Congress’s parks, the government’s parks, or the ranger’s parks. They are the National and State parks, and belong to the people of the nation and the state, to use and care for.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed a theme running through human history… real change is not usually accomplished by force. Sure, there are a great number of times when force in the form of violence has been and is necessary, and used to accomplish a goal of ridding the world of one villain or another, but nobody ever says, “well, you are obviously stronger than I am, I now understand that what I was doing was wrong.”, they say, “You beat me, I’ll do what you want me to do.”. My point is that we have the power to cause change… to impact the future of this world and this planet, but we need to be smart about how we use that power. We cannot force people to change. In my experience, the more you force something, the more likely it is to break. To cause change we cannot use might, but our minds.
Now, if you’re thinking that I’m going to go join the Sierra Club, I’m a little offended. If I was going to join a conservation society, it would not be the Sierra Club, but the NRA. I don’t exactly ascribe to the “Take only memories, leave only footprints” philosophy. I don’t think that every rock, stick, and plant is a leaveitright (as they called it at the science camp I went to in elementary school. “You find a stick, rock, or plant, leaveitright where you found it”). If you’re out in the wild and find a flower you want to press, or put in a vase, go ahead. More will still grow. Just don’t pick all of them because I want to see them too. But I think everyone could benefit from a little more nature in their lives.
Still, anyone can enjoy the beauty of God’s green earth on a screen in their living room, but that’s not good enough for me. For me… this is my living room. This is my church, my library, my theater. This is life, and it’s being stamped out by progress. I wish every person would take advantage of it and fill themselves with it’s beauty… as long as they don’t try to do it at the same time, and in the same place that I am. It amazes me how hard it is to hear the voice of the almighty God over the voices of those created in His image. (there’s another lesson there which I’ll let you find for yourself)
It strikes me that life as a flower would be much easier. Every little flower, as it opens up and turns it’s face toward the sun every day, is fulfilling it’s God-given calling. It is doing exactly what it’s Creator asks of it, and every remote little one of them would keep on doing so for all of its days even if no human eye ever noticed… Nature relentlessly serves and glorifies God just by being what it is, and we should consider ourselves blessed to be part of that worship service. But how much easier it is for flowers, to not have to wonder if they’re doing what they’re supposed to… to not ask God what His greater plan for them is… They simply exist, and that’s enough. But, I suppose there is some consolation in knowing that responsibility and reward are directly relational like power and responsibility are. The greater your responsibility, the greater your reward will be if you live up to what is required of you. While a butterfly fulfills it’s calling by drinking from any flower it chooses, it also doesn’t gain much by doing so.
Perhaps our calling as God’s children isn’t so different from that of flowers. Turn your face toward the light, and Glorify God every day of your life.
I wish everyone prayed in this chapel of mine.
This is me trying to impose my will.
Post Script: I’m sorry for this being so disjointed. These were the thoughts going through my head while I hiked. I had a brilliant essay written in my head, but when I got to the camp ground and sat down to write it, I found I had neglected to pack a note pad… by the time I got to my computer, I had forgotten how it went.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Walden Weekends: Busier Than Usual and My Philosophy of Hiking.
The first weekend was hard, not using the internet, not checking facebook… I found myself having to make conscious efforts to stay disconnected. I kept wanting to know what the people I know were up to, if anyone had commented on my status, or left a comment on my wall. But, in an effort to be present, I resisted. I decided that every time I thought about going online, I would instead pray for guidance, or for a job in San Diego, and that distracted me well enough until the desire passed for the time. That was last weekend. This is week two.
Yesterday I drove Benjamin and Jaason to the airport, drove to south San Jose in search of a free barbecue smoker I’d seen an ad for on Craigslist on Friday (without an exact address). I found the place, but no barbecue. “Someone else got that this morning. We’ve sold a bunch of stuff for really good prices… and then somebody stole our money box.” “Wow, I’m sorry about that. That really sucks.” I said, secretly cursing them for putting “12 to 3” on their ad when they obviously intended on opening things up much earlier. So I went home, sad about not having a smoker that I would not have any space for when I move anyway, and continued working on my pipe. The pipe has turned out well so far… though it’s a little rough. You can see some places where the chisel gouged into it, so I might go back over it with a sander and smooth it out. It should look really nice if the warmth from the bowl, and the oils from my hand, give the wood a slight red tint like I believe they will. It was a lengthy process though. If I were selling it, and only charging for it what my normal hourly wage would be, the pipe would cost roughly $130… but it was a Saturday, so I’d be charging time and a half.
Today was hiking up at Castle Rock, and helping Joseph and Laurel get a new couch (which I learned after I got home was located between here and Castle Rock).
There are a few things about hiking (and, I suppose, the wilderness in general) which I’m less than happy about… but there is one thing, especially problematic in spring and summer, which is enough of a problem that it causes me to question whether I want to go out anymore. More than the possibility of sunburn, insect bites, poison oak rashes, pain, injury, animal attack, and getting lost (which are, at best, irritating and inconvenient, and at worst… deadly, in the case of animal attacks. Though… death is really only a mild inconvenience for the person it comes to), people are the one thing that makes me consider not hiking. During spring and summer, there are entirely too many other people hiking. I imagine this will only be the case until I fall and hurt myself, and need help… then there will not be a person for a hundred miles of course.
My philosophy (if we’re using the word in the typical sense, where “philosophy” is not the art of thinking, or the method by which we come to a conclusion, but rather the conclusion which that thinking has lead us to) on hiking is two-fold. First: Show some respect. Second: Eyes and ears open, mouth shut. I wonder what it is that causes a person to go hiking when they have so little respect for nature that they just drop their garbage wherever they lost use for it. Why, if you don’t care about any of the beautiful things around you, would you deign to be there?
I wonder what causes a person with so little reverence for this great open cathedral that they would spoil it with their complaintive and selfish conversations to choose this out of all the peaceful places to disturb.
On the way, I passed a couple of young women who had stopped to take a picture. As it is my custom when hiking to not say hello unless someone else has said it (because I know that, for many people, hiking is meditative, and I don’t want to break someone else’s concentration), they said hello and I replied as I passed by. I increased my pace to make sure I had enough space to stop occasionally without being overtaken, because I want to be able to look around and observe the beauty before me without interruption. But it seemed that every time I stopped they were behind me, complaining about colleagues, or classes, or God knows what... in reality, they were a hundred feet or more behind me, but that’s the nature of open places and shrill voices. I came to a fork in the road. One way said “ridge trail” the other “to camp grounds”. Guessing that the ridge trail would offer more scenic views, I bet my pursuers would take that, and I opted for the camp trail. I chose poorly. After about twenty more minutes of trying in vain to get out of ear shot, I decided that it was close enough to the time I would need to turn back, and stopped and waited for them to pass. I was tempted to stop them as they went by, to ask if they had noticed the hawks soaring a couple hundred feet above the tree tops and a hundred feet below us, or if they’d seen what an amazing living patchwork quilt the world is in places like this where groves of madrone and oak and pine and redwood wrap around and through one another… but they were far too busy talking about coworkers and Stanford to be bothered, so I let them go by in peace.
In the fall and winter these trails are much like the thick grove in the Degoba swamp (I know you nerds know what I’m talking about). Luke asks, “What’s in there?”, and Yoda replies, “Only what you bring with you.”. But now that it’s warming up, it’s hard to find ten seconds where you can’t hear another person, or see a discarded bag of sunflower seeds. What is drawing these people out here instead of to a public park, or coffee shop, or any number of places with trash cans and conversational atmosphere provided? Why, when I try to escape from the aggravations of what is allegedly the civilized world does all the worst of it insist on following me? I’m considering making a patch to put on my backpack (and would have stickers made if putting them on trail signs wasn’t considered defacing public property) that say “Eyes and ears open. Mouth shut.”… also, I’ll be looking for less populous trails.Saturday, March 26, 2011
Walden Weekends: Preface
Not too long ago, I decided that I would try to go hiking about once a week - I know, the phrasing there indicated a very strong commitment - and get myself out of the more populated areas as much as I could. My impetus for this decision was purely physical, I thought. I considered that, in the more than probable (to my mind) event of some sort of zombie/robot/nuclear apocalypse, or massive natural disaster, I was not in the kind of shape I would need to be in to get away to relative safety and bring with me at least the minimum I would need for survival, let alone any amount of comfort. I have a tent and sleeping bag, a camp ax, some bottled water, and some air-tight packages of food (granola bars, raisins, I think there’s some beef jerky in there) as well as a sweat shirt and a change of jeans in my truck in case of emergency… but what if the nuclear explosion melts my tires, or the robots steal my gas… or the zombies get confused and start eating my beef jerky? What will I do then?
So I got a back pack and some other supplies, and started hiking every weekend that I could. Physical training. I had, of course, no idea that this would affect me mentally or spiritually. It turns out that going off into the forest, alone, gives you a beautiful opportunity to think about things, to listen to God whispering to you, and to free yourself from the constant stream of input that you get from the world around you. Solitude is simplicity, simplicity is clarity. Not that I’m out there becoming a sage or anything… my ventures have yet to give me the wisdom of C.S. Lewis or Theodore Roosevelt, who also knew the benefits of subtracting themselves from the world, and came to understand it better thereby… If nothing else, I am being constantly reminded of the power nature has over human beings, and the power human beings have over nature, and the responsibility we have to treat those powers with respect. I wish that the wild was more accessible to more people, and that more of the people who access it could be trusted not to destroy it.
It was with this desire to go outside the world that I decided to institute Walden Weekends for myself, starting next weekend. The idea is something of an experiment. I don’t really have any goal for this, no specific desired outcome, just to take myself away from the internet and video games, and generally being lazy and useless (for two days a week anyway… I plan to continue being lazy and useless Monday through Friday) and see what happens. It’s not a complete abandonment of society, but a distillation of sorts. Similar, in a way, to when I was in the Joshua Wilderness Institute at Hume Lake. We were outside of our normal lives, and separate from the rest of the world, but they required that we read newspapers and magazines to ensure that we stayed connected. It wasn’t a community of hermits after all… though, honestly, of all the things they required us to do, that may have been the one that was most difficult for me. So maybe it will be the same with this. Maybe the difficulty won’t be in keeping myself from wanting to go online (The Chive doesn’t really post much on weekends anyway), but in keeping myself from running off into the forest and staying there. I suppose that only time will tell.
So, starting next weekend, I will not be accessible via facebook, email, or words with friends, and will instead be spending that time hiking, reading, writing, (not doing ‘rithmetic) or working on other various projects. I plan to carve a pipe out of madrone, make a couple of left-handed knife sheaths, and work on some barbecue/smoking recipes I’ve been thinking of (provided the weather clears up), and perhaps blogging about my adventures, when I think they're entertaining enough, during the following week. If you have suggestions of books I should read, or projects I could do, please feel free to send them my way.
Thank you for spending the time to read all of this.
Sincerely,
Jacøb
So I got a back pack and some other supplies, and started hiking every weekend that I could. Physical training. I had, of course, no idea that this would affect me mentally or spiritually. It turns out that going off into the forest, alone, gives you a beautiful opportunity to think about things, to listen to God whispering to you, and to free yourself from the constant stream of input that you get from the world around you. Solitude is simplicity, simplicity is clarity. Not that I’m out there becoming a sage or anything… my ventures have yet to give me the wisdom of C.S. Lewis or Theodore Roosevelt, who also knew the benefits of subtracting themselves from the world, and came to understand it better thereby… If nothing else, I am being constantly reminded of the power nature has over human beings, and the power human beings have over nature, and the responsibility we have to treat those powers with respect. I wish that the wild was more accessible to more people, and that more of the people who access it could be trusted not to destroy it.
It was with this desire to go outside the world that I decided to institute Walden Weekends for myself, starting next weekend. The idea is something of an experiment. I don’t really have any goal for this, no specific desired outcome, just to take myself away from the internet and video games, and generally being lazy and useless (for two days a week anyway… I plan to continue being lazy and useless Monday through Friday) and see what happens. It’s not a complete abandonment of society, but a distillation of sorts. Similar, in a way, to when I was in the Joshua Wilderness Institute at Hume Lake. We were outside of our normal lives, and separate from the rest of the world, but they required that we read newspapers and magazines to ensure that we stayed connected. It wasn’t a community of hermits after all… though, honestly, of all the things they required us to do, that may have been the one that was most difficult for me. So maybe it will be the same with this. Maybe the difficulty won’t be in keeping myself from wanting to go online (The Chive doesn’t really post much on weekends anyway), but in keeping myself from running off into the forest and staying there. I suppose that only time will tell.
So, starting next weekend, I will not be accessible via facebook, email, or words with friends, and will instead be spending that time hiking, reading, writing, (not doing ‘rithmetic) or working on other various projects. I plan to carve a pipe out of madrone, make a couple of left-handed knife sheaths, and work on some barbecue/smoking recipes I’ve been thinking of (provided the weather clears up), and perhaps blogging about my adventures, when I think they're entertaining enough, during the following week. If you have suggestions of books I should read, or projects I could do, please feel free to send them my way.
Thank you for spending the time to read all of this.
Sincerely,
Jacøb
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Yule Blog
During this time of peace on earth, goodwill t'ward men, love, charity, and togetherness, I think it's important that we look back and remember the foundation of this most joyous holiday... where our traditions come from, what they really mean... why we celebrate the way we do.
I figure I'll start out with everyone's favorite Christmas song, the 12 Days of Christmas. I'm sure, like myself, many of you have often wondered what the hell this song was about, why anyone would give all of these things to anyone, and why, after being given the gift of three french hens, anyone would continue calling the giver "my true love". You have also probably wondered why we only celebrate one day of Christmas, when there are allegedly 11 more floating around.
The twelve days of Christmas, as it turns out, start on Christmas day, and end on January 5th. This is, according to tradition, when the three wise-men showed up and gave their gifts to Jesus... though you Bible scholars and historians all probably already know that there may or may not have been only three wise-men, and that they probably showed up considerably later than 12 days after Jesus was born. The song itself was written in England some time between the late 1500's and the early 1800's, during a time when it was illegal to be Catholic. So, if you find this song as irritating as I do, thank King Henry. Because Catholics (much like Jews in Germany, or early Christians in Rome) were scared of being punished should they be found, in this case by being hanged, drawn, and quartered (you've seen the end of Braveheart, right? Well they left off the worst part, where they tie your hands and feet to horses and have them run in different directions, while you're still alive, tearing you limb from limb) they had to come up with a way for children to remember the tenets of their faith without being able to write it down. So, the song was born, with each gift representing an important element. The "true love" would of course be God, and the "me" would be all of us.
The rest:
1 Partridge in a pear tree: Jesus. A mother partridge will feign injury to protect her young.
2 Turtledoves: The Old and New Testaments
3 French hens: The virtues, Faith, Hope, and Charity
4 Calling birds: The four Gospels, and/or the four evangelists
5 GOLDEN RIIIIIIINGS!: The Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible).
6 Geese a-laying: The six days of creation (and on the seventh day He rested)
7 Swans a-swimming: The seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (wisdom, understanding, counsel, courage, knowledge, reverence, fear of the Lord) or the Seven Sacraments, which are rites in which God is uniquely active, or "visible signs of the invisible at work" (Baptism, Eucharist, Reconciliation, Confirmation, Marriage, Holy Orders, Anointing of the sick)
8 Maids a-milking: The 8 beatitudes (you know, that whole "blessed are the meak, for they will inherit the earth..." bit)
9 Ladies dancing: the 9 visible attributes of the Christian life which comprise the Fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control)
10 Lords a-leaping: The ten commandments (which I won't recount because I'm sure everyone here has them memorized).
11 Pipers piping: The eleven faithful apostles (screw you, Judas, you don't get to be in our song).
12 Drummers drumming: the twelves points of the apostle's creed (look it up. I'm lazy and this is already going to be a long post).
You got all that? Good, because you will be tested on this.... eventually.
Now, with that out of the way, let's move on to lighter fare.
For most people, what is the one symbol of Christmas that most fully embodies the warmth, joy, peace, and love this season is supposed to be full of? More than Santa Claus (who I'm not even going to go into because I'm sure you all know the story already) or the common yet inaccurate picture of Christ in the manger in a barn, with Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men, friendly beasts, and angels all around. It's something that often shows up on the outskirts of that manger scene... even though, to my knowledge, it isn't even native to the area. If you haven't guessed it yet, I'm talking about the Christmas tree. That evergreen unchanging whose relatives nearest to Bethlehem would probably be the cedars of Lebanon, which don't look anything like the trees we cut down and cover with trinkets and gaudy lights every year. It might surprise you... though, if you know anything at all about human history, it really shouldn't... to know that this Christian tradition was stolen from the pagans.
When Christian missionaries got up the courage to march into the frozen wilderness in what we now call northwestern Europe and tell the French and Germans that everything they believed and did was wrong, they may or may not have been surprised to find them somewhere on the screw-you side of the receptiveness scale... so these missionaries decided that the best way to get the pagans to change sides was to convince them that we're just like them, only better.
Being up that far North in the winter is probably scary for anyone, especially if you come from a particularly superstitious people... so when your corner of the earth starts moving away from the sun, and the days become increasingly short, and the nights increasingly dark, you won't be too surprised if someone in the crowd says, "the sun is tired of us, and is probably not coming back... so we need to do something about that, or freeze to death.". So, believing that all life on earth depended on their ability to coax the sun back into the area, they would head out around the winter solstice to find the biggest, strongest sign of life in the area... which just happened to be an evergreen tree. They would build fires, and cover the trees and their houses with all sorts of reflective objects and lights as if to say, "hey Sun, come back, there's still light here! See? This is a fun place for light and warmth to hang out!"
So, the early Christians were like, "hey look, we do that too. You can come be one of us and keep your quaint little traditions!", kind of like they did with the adoption of December 25th as Jesus' official birthday when they made it to Rome and found a bunch of people celebrating the god Mithra on that day... so they showed the northern pagans they had a winter solstice holiday with lights and trees. However, being from the Mediterranean area, they were somewhat more inclined to bring the fire and the trees inside than to march out into a frozen forest.
While out on their travels in the frozen north, the missionaries also came across a friendly little group of people known as Vikings... who they also needed to steal a tradition from if they wanted to make any headway. While it may seem like telling Vikings to stop everything they do and come be nice Christians would be the quickest path to Heaven, the missionaries actually had some fortune with the Norse. You see, this was a group of people who set up shop far away from anywhere that any normal person would choose to live, but they would regularly travel the world to.... gather supplies. As a result, their mytholgy tends to have a lot of influence from other cultures. They would go out and hear stories from all over the world and think, "that kind of sounds like something this god of ours would do" and would tell everyone they knew about this story. Somewhere along the way, it's likely that they heard stories of this Jesus fellow, and decided he sounded a bit like their god Baldur. Baldur was the son of their great god Odin, who sits on his throne in Valhalla and watches the dealings of men, sometimes inserting himself into their lives and directing their fates (sound familiar?). Baldur was the most beloved of all of the gods in Asgard, so it brought no shortage of sorrow when the prediction was told that Baldur would be killed. His mother, when given this news, went all around the world, making every person, animal, vegetable, mineral... everything in existence promise that it would never do any harm to her beloved son. Everything, that is, except Mistletoe, which she decided was too fragile to do him any harm anyway (ironic, considering that mistletoe berries are actually quite poisonous). So she came back to Asgard content that no harm could come to her son, and told him that he was safe. He figured he would test her theory, and all the other gods gathered around and started throwing crap at him to see if it would hurt. Rocks, branches, tables, children... everything just bounced right off of him without a mark. Loki, god of messing everything up for everybody (but usually setting it right again... usually) crept over to Baldur's blind cousin and was like, "why aren't you throwing stuff at Baldur with everybody else?" to which Baldur's blind cousin replied, "um... I'm blind.". So Loki makes an arrow out of mistletoe and puts it in the blind guys hand, and guides his throw to pierce Baldur's heart and kill him. Baldur's mother offered a kiss beneath the mistletoe to anyone who would go to the Hel and bring Baldur back. No one could... but Baldur will return after the great battle at the end of the world, to rule the knew world which will be reborn from the ashes. So, when you kiss someone under the mistletoe, think about death, betrayal, and the end of the world this Christmas...
It was, however, actually the Celts who are most responsible for mistletoe becoming a Christmas decoration. They believed that the plant had magical powers, and hung it up in their houses during the Yule festival to protect the home, and cause beautiful dreams during the shadowy dream time of winter, when the dark force of Mean Geimhridh held the light of the sun back. This creepy festival eventually got absorbed into Christmas, giving us still another terrifying "why is that a Christmas tradition" tradition which has, perhaps fortunately, generally been forgone in recent years.
The Yule log. This is where the most "wtf?"d line in perhaps any Christmas song comes from. "There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmas's long long ago." Who sits around at Christmas telling ghost stories that don't involve Ebenezer Scrooge, and why would they do such a thing? Well, Who: The Irish. Why: They're Irish... it's what they do. Since I'm pretty sure you don't have a Yule log and probably never have, except perhaps as a decoration, I'll fill you in on what exactly the tradition is. You go out into your yard, or perhaps your neighbors yard while they're off Christmas shopping, and find the most beautiful, symmetrical log you can. You absolutely never buy a Yule log at a store because that will just piss off all the sprites and spirits which are apparently just everywhere in Ireland. You place the log in the hearth, where it is lit using a scrap from the previous years Yule log which has been carefully preserved under the bed of the master of the house to keep the house safe from fire and lightning. The lighting of the Yule log must be achieved in the first attempt or else misfortune will befall your family. There is a lot of stress that comes with being the head of the household in Ireland. The task must never be performed with dirty hands because it is a sign of disrespect... and, again, pissed of sprites and spirits. The embers of the Yule log must be kept lit for twelve hours and cannot be tended while eating Christmas eve dinner. After the feast, the family sits around the fire telling ghost stories while watching their shadows on the wall. If any person's shadow is seen to not have a head, it is a sign that this person will be dead within a year. While this could be fun, I suppose, the Irish Christmas tradition that I choose to include in my family celebration is drinking, because I try not to do anything to inadvertently upset mythological or ethereal beings.
Yule logs, Mistletoe, and evergreen trees aren't the only pagan plant life to have been taken by Christians to be part of the celebration of the birth of our Lord. Holly, among many groups throughout history, has been seen as a good omen, and represented immortality due to its ability to look good in every season. It was considered sacred by the ancient Romans, and was used as a gift during the festival of Saturnalia, which lasted from December 17th to the 23rd. Holly was thought to be a favorite home to elves and faeries, who must have had very tough skin, or just not minded being stabbed by sharp leaves. Romans would bring holly inside during the winter to protect these poor little creatures from the cold.
During the early years of Christianity in Rome, many Christians continued to deck their halls with boughs of holly for fear of being turned into torches in Caesar's palace, or just made fun of for not believing in the pantheon that the Roman's stole from the Greeks. Holly became a Christian symbol when Christianity became the dominant religion in the area, perhaps as an other way of wooing more converts. Eventually it was pretended that holly was a Christian tradition without pagan roots by applying Christian symbolism to the plant. The leaf has sharp pointy edges which represent Jesus' crown of thorns, and red berries which represent the blood He shed on the cross. It is also evergreen, which is taken to represent the eternal life He bestows on all who believe in Him.
It really was convenient that the pagans had so many holidays all around the same time, because it made it much easier to decide when to have Christmas. They had Juvenalia, a feast honoring the children of Rome. There was the celebration of Mithra, the god of the unconquerable sun, on December 25th... he was an infant god, and was born of a rock by the way... which was, for some Romans, the most sacred day of the year. They had the Winter solstice. And there was Saturnalia which celebrated Saturn who was (among other things) the Roman god of agriculture. Beginning in the week leading up to Winter solstice and lasting for an entire month, Saturnalia was like Oktoberfest, Mardi Gras, and the Festival of Fools all mixed into one. Food and drink were plentiful, and the normal Roman social order was turned upside down. For one month, slaves would become masters. Peasants were in command of the city. Businesses and schools were even closed so that everyone could join in the revelry. Honestly, who wouldn't want to steal all these holidays and mix them into one? It's a wonder that it took until the fourth century for the Church to decide to institute Christmas as an official holiday.
Up til then, Easter was the big deal. The delay, most likely, was due to the fact that the Bible doesn't really mention what time of year Jesus was born... a fact those Grinchy Puritans used in denying the legitimacy of the holiday, bringing frowns to children all over the world. Though there has been evidence cited by some people who may or may not know what they're talking about to indicate that Jesus was born in the Spring time, Pope Julius I (of Orange Julius fame) chose December 25th, probably to absorb these other holidays. Christmas, originally called The Feast of the Nativity, spread to Egypt by 423 a.d. and to England by the end of the sixth century. By the end of the eighth century, it had made its way to Scandinavia. Today, in Greek and Russian orthodox churches, Christmas is celebrated on January 6th, or "Epiphany"/"Three Kings day" (which is convenient for Santa because it means he doesn't have to fly around the whole world in one night) which is, for some reason, the day after the 12 Days of Christmas would end.
Having Christmas at the same time as all of these pagan festivals made Christmas more likely to be embraced by other people, but left the Church largely unable to dictate how it would be celebrated. Soon enough, Christianity had done away with Pagan religion, but the absorption of their festivals left the fun parts of paganism intact. On Christmas, believers attended boring church services in the morning, and probably spent the whole time dreaming about all the partying they would do afterward. When they left church, they would go home and celebrated Christmas like Mardi Gras and St. Patrick's day met on Spring Break and had a baby at Carnivale. Each year, a beggar or a student would be crowned "lord of misrule" and people would line up eagerly to play the part of his subjects. Poor people would go a-wassailing (drinking and singing) to the houses of rich people and demand their best food and drink... which I'm guessing usually involved figgy pudding. If the home owners failed to provide, their visitors terrorize them with mischief... kind of like a drunken musical trick-or-treat, which actually sounds like fun to me. Christmas, this way, became a time of year when the upper classes could repay their real or imagined debt to society by entertaining the less fortunate citizens. As for how Christmas went from being about drunkenly helping the drunken less fortunate to wearing bad sweaters and spending too much money, I haven't really done any research on the subject.
I figure I'll start out with everyone's favorite Christmas song, the 12 Days of Christmas. I'm sure, like myself, many of you have often wondered what the hell this song was about, why anyone would give all of these things to anyone, and why, after being given the gift of three french hens, anyone would continue calling the giver "my true love". You have also probably wondered why we only celebrate one day of Christmas, when there are allegedly 11 more floating around.
The twelve days of Christmas, as it turns out, start on Christmas day, and end on January 5th. This is, according to tradition, when the three wise-men showed up and gave their gifts to Jesus... though you Bible scholars and historians all probably already know that there may or may not have been only three wise-men, and that they probably showed up considerably later than 12 days after Jesus was born. The song itself was written in England some time between the late 1500's and the early 1800's, during a time when it was illegal to be Catholic. So, if you find this song as irritating as I do, thank King Henry. Because Catholics (much like Jews in Germany, or early Christians in Rome) were scared of being punished should they be found, in this case by being hanged, drawn, and quartered (you've seen the end of Braveheart, right? Well they left off the worst part, where they tie your hands and feet to horses and have them run in different directions, while you're still alive, tearing you limb from limb) they had to come up with a way for children to remember the tenets of their faith without being able to write it down. So, the song was born, with each gift representing an important element. The "true love" would of course be God, and the "me" would be all of us.
The rest:
1 Partridge in a pear tree: Jesus. A mother partridge will feign injury to protect her young.
2 Turtledoves: The Old and New Testaments
3 French hens: The virtues, Faith, Hope, and Charity
4 Calling birds: The four Gospels, and/or the four evangelists
5 GOLDEN RIIIIIIINGS!: The Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible).
6 Geese a-laying: The six days of creation (and on the seventh day He rested)
7 Swans a-swimming: The seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (wisdom, understanding, counsel, courage, knowledge, reverence, fear of the Lord) or the Seven Sacraments, which are rites in which God is uniquely active, or "visible signs of the invisible at work" (Baptism, Eucharist, Reconciliation, Confirmation, Marriage, Holy Orders, Anointing of the sick)
8 Maids a-milking: The 8 beatitudes (you know, that whole "blessed are the meak, for they will inherit the earth..." bit)
9 Ladies dancing: the 9 visible attributes of the Christian life which comprise the Fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control)
10 Lords a-leaping: The ten commandments (which I won't recount because I'm sure everyone here has them memorized).
11 Pipers piping: The eleven faithful apostles (screw you, Judas, you don't get to be in our song).
12 Drummers drumming: the twelves points of the apostle's creed (look it up. I'm lazy and this is already going to be a long post).
You got all that? Good, because you will be tested on this.... eventually.
Now, with that out of the way, let's move on to lighter fare.
For most people, what is the one symbol of Christmas that most fully embodies the warmth, joy, peace, and love this season is supposed to be full of? More than Santa Claus (who I'm not even going to go into because I'm sure you all know the story already) or the common yet inaccurate picture of Christ in the manger in a barn, with Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men, friendly beasts, and angels all around. It's something that often shows up on the outskirts of that manger scene... even though, to my knowledge, it isn't even native to the area. If you haven't guessed it yet, I'm talking about the Christmas tree. That evergreen unchanging whose relatives nearest to Bethlehem would probably be the cedars of Lebanon, which don't look anything like the trees we cut down and cover with trinkets and gaudy lights every year. It might surprise you... though, if you know anything at all about human history, it really shouldn't... to know that this Christian tradition was stolen from the pagans.
When Christian missionaries got up the courage to march into the frozen wilderness in what we now call northwestern Europe and tell the French and Germans that everything they believed and did was wrong, they may or may not have been surprised to find them somewhere on the screw-you side of the receptiveness scale... so these missionaries decided that the best way to get the pagans to change sides was to convince them that we're just like them, only better.
Being up that far North in the winter is probably scary for anyone, especially if you come from a particularly superstitious people... so when your corner of the earth starts moving away from the sun, and the days become increasingly short, and the nights increasingly dark, you won't be too surprised if someone in the crowd says, "the sun is tired of us, and is probably not coming back... so we need to do something about that, or freeze to death.". So, believing that all life on earth depended on their ability to coax the sun back into the area, they would head out around the winter solstice to find the biggest, strongest sign of life in the area... which just happened to be an evergreen tree. They would build fires, and cover the trees and their houses with all sorts of reflective objects and lights as if to say, "hey Sun, come back, there's still light here! See? This is a fun place for light and warmth to hang out!"
So, the early Christians were like, "hey look, we do that too. You can come be one of us and keep your quaint little traditions!", kind of like they did with the adoption of December 25th as Jesus' official birthday when they made it to Rome and found a bunch of people celebrating the god Mithra on that day... so they showed the northern pagans they had a winter solstice holiday with lights and trees. However, being from the Mediterranean area, they were somewhat more inclined to bring the fire and the trees inside than to march out into a frozen forest.
While out on their travels in the frozen north, the missionaries also came across a friendly little group of people known as Vikings... who they also needed to steal a tradition from if they wanted to make any headway. While it may seem like telling Vikings to stop everything they do and come be nice Christians would be the quickest path to Heaven, the missionaries actually had some fortune with the Norse. You see, this was a group of people who set up shop far away from anywhere that any normal person would choose to live, but they would regularly travel the world to.... gather supplies. As a result, their mytholgy tends to have a lot of influence from other cultures. They would go out and hear stories from all over the world and think, "that kind of sounds like something this god of ours would do" and would tell everyone they knew about this story. Somewhere along the way, it's likely that they heard stories of this Jesus fellow, and decided he sounded a bit like their god Baldur. Baldur was the son of their great god Odin, who sits on his throne in Valhalla and watches the dealings of men, sometimes inserting himself into their lives and directing their fates (sound familiar?). Baldur was the most beloved of all of the gods in Asgard, so it brought no shortage of sorrow when the prediction was told that Baldur would be killed. His mother, when given this news, went all around the world, making every person, animal, vegetable, mineral... everything in existence promise that it would never do any harm to her beloved son. Everything, that is, except Mistletoe, which she decided was too fragile to do him any harm anyway (ironic, considering that mistletoe berries are actually quite poisonous). So she came back to Asgard content that no harm could come to her son, and told him that he was safe. He figured he would test her theory, and all the other gods gathered around and started throwing crap at him to see if it would hurt. Rocks, branches, tables, children... everything just bounced right off of him without a mark. Loki, god of messing everything up for everybody (but usually setting it right again... usually) crept over to Baldur's blind cousin and was like, "why aren't you throwing stuff at Baldur with everybody else?" to which Baldur's blind cousin replied, "um... I'm blind.". So Loki makes an arrow out of mistletoe and puts it in the blind guys hand, and guides his throw to pierce Baldur's heart and kill him. Baldur's mother offered a kiss beneath the mistletoe to anyone who would go to the Hel and bring Baldur back. No one could... but Baldur will return after the great battle at the end of the world, to rule the knew world which will be reborn from the ashes. So, when you kiss someone under the mistletoe, think about death, betrayal, and the end of the world this Christmas...
It was, however, actually the Celts who are most responsible for mistletoe becoming a Christmas decoration. They believed that the plant had magical powers, and hung it up in their houses during the Yule festival to protect the home, and cause beautiful dreams during the shadowy dream time of winter, when the dark force of Mean Geimhridh held the light of the sun back. This creepy festival eventually got absorbed into Christmas, giving us still another terrifying "why is that a Christmas tradition" tradition which has, perhaps fortunately, generally been forgone in recent years.
The Yule log. This is where the most "wtf?"d line in perhaps any Christmas song comes from. "There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmas's long long ago." Who sits around at Christmas telling ghost stories that don't involve Ebenezer Scrooge, and why would they do such a thing? Well, Who: The Irish. Why: They're Irish... it's what they do. Since I'm pretty sure you don't have a Yule log and probably never have, except perhaps as a decoration, I'll fill you in on what exactly the tradition is. You go out into your yard, or perhaps your neighbors yard while they're off Christmas shopping, and find the most beautiful, symmetrical log you can. You absolutely never buy a Yule log at a store because that will just piss off all the sprites and spirits which are apparently just everywhere in Ireland. You place the log in the hearth, where it is lit using a scrap from the previous years Yule log which has been carefully preserved under the bed of the master of the house to keep the house safe from fire and lightning. The lighting of the Yule log must be achieved in the first attempt or else misfortune will befall your family. There is a lot of stress that comes with being the head of the household in Ireland. The task must never be performed with dirty hands because it is a sign of disrespect... and, again, pissed of sprites and spirits. The embers of the Yule log must be kept lit for twelve hours and cannot be tended while eating Christmas eve dinner. After the feast, the family sits around the fire telling ghost stories while watching their shadows on the wall. If any person's shadow is seen to not have a head, it is a sign that this person will be dead within a year. While this could be fun, I suppose, the Irish Christmas tradition that I choose to include in my family celebration is drinking, because I try not to do anything to inadvertently upset mythological or ethereal beings.
Yule logs, Mistletoe, and evergreen trees aren't the only pagan plant life to have been taken by Christians to be part of the celebration of the birth of our Lord. Holly, among many groups throughout history, has been seen as a good omen, and represented immortality due to its ability to look good in every season. It was considered sacred by the ancient Romans, and was used as a gift during the festival of Saturnalia, which lasted from December 17th to the 23rd. Holly was thought to be a favorite home to elves and faeries, who must have had very tough skin, or just not minded being stabbed by sharp leaves. Romans would bring holly inside during the winter to protect these poor little creatures from the cold.
During the early years of Christianity in Rome, many Christians continued to deck their halls with boughs of holly for fear of being turned into torches in Caesar's palace, or just made fun of for not believing in the pantheon that the Roman's stole from the Greeks. Holly became a Christian symbol when Christianity became the dominant religion in the area, perhaps as an other way of wooing more converts. Eventually it was pretended that holly was a Christian tradition without pagan roots by applying Christian symbolism to the plant. The leaf has sharp pointy edges which represent Jesus' crown of thorns, and red berries which represent the blood He shed on the cross. It is also evergreen, which is taken to represent the eternal life He bestows on all who believe in Him.
It really was convenient that the pagans had so many holidays all around the same time, because it made it much easier to decide when to have Christmas. They had Juvenalia, a feast honoring the children of Rome. There was the celebration of Mithra, the god of the unconquerable sun, on December 25th... he was an infant god, and was born of a rock by the way... which was, for some Romans, the most sacred day of the year. They had the Winter solstice. And there was Saturnalia which celebrated Saturn who was (among other things) the Roman god of agriculture. Beginning in the week leading up to Winter solstice and lasting for an entire month, Saturnalia was like Oktoberfest, Mardi Gras, and the Festival of Fools all mixed into one. Food and drink were plentiful, and the normal Roman social order was turned upside down. For one month, slaves would become masters. Peasants were in command of the city. Businesses and schools were even closed so that everyone could join in the revelry. Honestly, who wouldn't want to steal all these holidays and mix them into one? It's a wonder that it took until the fourth century for the Church to decide to institute Christmas as an official holiday.
Up til then, Easter was the big deal. The delay, most likely, was due to the fact that the Bible doesn't really mention what time of year Jesus was born... a fact those Grinchy Puritans used in denying the legitimacy of the holiday, bringing frowns to children all over the world. Though there has been evidence cited by some people who may or may not know what they're talking about to indicate that Jesus was born in the Spring time, Pope Julius I (of Orange Julius fame) chose December 25th, probably to absorb these other holidays. Christmas, originally called The Feast of the Nativity, spread to Egypt by 423 a.d. and to England by the end of the sixth century. By the end of the eighth century, it had made its way to Scandinavia. Today, in Greek and Russian orthodox churches, Christmas is celebrated on January 6th, or "Epiphany"/"Three Kings day" (which is convenient for Santa because it means he doesn't have to fly around the whole world in one night) which is, for some reason, the day after the 12 Days of Christmas would end.
Having Christmas at the same time as all of these pagan festivals made Christmas more likely to be embraced by other people, but left the Church largely unable to dictate how it would be celebrated. Soon enough, Christianity had done away with Pagan religion, but the absorption of their festivals left the fun parts of paganism intact. On Christmas, believers attended boring church services in the morning, and probably spent the whole time dreaming about all the partying they would do afterward. When they left church, they would go home and celebrated Christmas like Mardi Gras and St. Patrick's day met on Spring Break and had a baby at Carnivale. Each year, a beggar or a student would be crowned "lord of misrule" and people would line up eagerly to play the part of his subjects. Poor people would go a-wassailing (drinking and singing) to the houses of rich people and demand their best food and drink... which I'm guessing usually involved figgy pudding. If the home owners failed to provide, their visitors terrorize them with mischief... kind of like a drunken musical trick-or-treat, which actually sounds like fun to me. Christmas, this way, became a time of year when the upper classes could repay their real or imagined debt to society by entertaining the less fortunate citizens. As for how Christmas went from being about drunkenly helping the drunken less fortunate to wearing bad sweaters and spending too much money, I haven't really done any research on the subject.
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