I'm spending the eight days before Christmas thinking about traditions and where they originated. Googling isn't enough information; it's pretty canned. Sure, it will tell you the history of St. Nick, various holiday hypotheses about the origins of the Christmas tree...you'll run into a few debates on whether or not the pagans contributed to it - does it taint the tradition? (Spoiler: No kid thinks that.)
I ain't about that life.
The meaty bare-bones information that I seek hinges on the rationale behind the initiation of these traditions. When did they really start? What was going on in that moment?
First up: Who decided that it would be cool to get goodies stuffed in your sock?
Let's examine that holiday favorite.
So, the general public of a bygone age becomes aware of old St. Nick. At some point, he is not just the red attired Bishop Nicholas - he is a saint and Big N has done wonderful things. All over the globe, people know his name. Towns and ports are named after him. Parents tell their children stories about him and the legend grows.
Good news, children! St. Nicholas will be coming down the chimney tonight and he's bringing you "something" if you're good! Ah...we arrive at our historical catalyst; the great unknown. Let's speculate without facts - like the news channels.
With wonder and amazement, anticipation and excitement at its peak, what kids said: "Hey, I've got an idea. Let's hang an item of clothing up so St. Nick will stuff it with presents."
I want to know the name of that kid, and you know it had to be a kid. Truthfully, I want to be a fly on the wall at the moment that happened, because no child's conversation is linear. Every kid in the family had to chime in and battle for air time. How did a sock win out?
You know that Rolf or Gretchen had to mention that underwear was much bigger and held more items. Gretchen might remind him of his poor bathroom hygiene and even infer that underwear could never, ever be clean enough to suffice. Of course, long underwear would just be a sign of greediness and mess with your Santa street cred. There's a possibility that the term should be "sled cred," but I don't have the research to back it up.
Jorge and Hans might have suggested tying up the sleeves of shirts, but they would have to be low hanging and a fire hazard. What do you do with the neck hole? Sew it up? Long pants would be the same hazard.
As one of my brilliant co-workers used to say, "You don't want to wake up dead."
They promoted her, but I'm not bitter.
Back to our story...
Surely little Brunhilda might have thought about a bucket or a cup? What was wrong with suggesting that their nighttime visitor put their gifts on the front porch, thus saving time and avoiding that pesky breaking and entering charge?
Lastly, did these trendsetting Teutonic kids lack parental guidance?
Well, you all know the end of this story...because we're all hanging socks...er, stockings. With ingenuity and holiday spirit, one brilliant child whose name is lost to us led the way as he (or she) nailed their stockings to the fireplace mantel that first time. Foot odor, be darned! It's Christmas! A fat man is on his way.
Then, the children must have gone to bed,
blue toed and giddy. You know they didn't have a lot of clothes back then and they just gave up 50% of their foot coverings.
Meanwhile, as Rolf lay in bed - he could have kicked himself in frustration! All that talk of undergarments made him forget he had perfectly good luggage that could have been placed on the hearth and that would have held a motherload of goods.
Too late smart, Rolf. Go check your sock.
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MY FAVORITE CHRISTMAS MEMORY BLOGHOP
DECEMBER 22, 2014
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