Relay-Version: version B 2.10 5/3/83; site utzoo.UUCP Posting-Version: version B 2.10.2.fluke 9/24/84; site fluke.UUCP Path: utzoo!watmath!clyde!burl!ulysses!allegra!mit-eddie!genrad!decvax!tektronix!uw-beaver!ssc-vax!fluke!moriarty From: moriarty@fluke.UUCP (Jeff Meyer) Newsgroups: net.misc,net.singles Subject: Very Late and Rather Grumpy History of Christmas Festival [:-)] Message-ID: <156@vax2.fluke.UUCP> Date: Sat, 15-Dec-84 14:54:31 EST Article-I.D.: vax2.156 Posted: Sat Dec 15 14:54:31 1984 Date-Received: Wed, 19-Dec-84 02:42:16 EST References: <280@scc.UUCP> Reply-To: moriarty@fluke.UUCP (Jeff Meyer) Distribution: net Organization: John Fluke Mfg. Co., Inc., Everett, WA Lines: 58 Xref: watmath net.misc:7149 net.singles:4973 During the period of our Lord (Ah-men) 1980-82, at the little village of Reed College in Portland OR, Christmas was celebrated at the Akerman Dorm in a variety of different methods. In the few days that preceded the beginning of winter break, the tried-and-true ritual of the denzinens of the concrete and brick building became a holiday event for those who enjoyed the pagent of the Holiday Spirit (as well as any other spirits whose proofs were higher than 120). At Nine O'clock in the morning, the students would rise in T-shirts, robes, or tuxedos (oh, excuse me, that was Caroline and I... the picture's so damn fuzzy), walking in the traditional shuffle-stumble-swear-groan march to the sacred showers, muttering the Chant of the Ages (ages 17-24), "Godwhattimeisit... GodwhatDAYisit... Didn'tIhavetocatchaflightoutaheretwohoursago... I'vestillgotthreepapersandalabdone... GodwhowasIinbedwithlastnight... GodwhatwasI {here the scrolls disagree on the interpertations: "smoking" "drinking" "eating" "thinkingof"} lastnight... GodifyougetmeoutofthisoneI'llneverdoitagain" {The last phrase was apparently considered something of a joke...} After a group shock caused by lack of hot water, the paritioners would retire to different areas to drink coffee, discuss a variety of matters, play bridge or Risk, knit, listen to music, and even sometimes engage in academic tasks. Eventually, in a method of communication still undefined even by modern-day science, the group elected The Sacred Interior Decorator (or, in other interpretations, "She/He who has Money") to go out and get the most garish and ugly Christmas ornament to be found within the lenghth and breath of the land (and in Stumptown, this is a broad thing... there are enough Thrift Store to make Marikesh look with envy upon them). And then, every night before the congregation split for home via the Friendly skies, the most plastic, artificial, blinking, electric, and in general retarded device ever beheld at the holidays (outside of day-care centers, anyway) was hung up in the main hallway, and the people of Reed came from yards around to wonder and gasp at garishness. And the good people of the ministry of Akerman would sit around it in a circle, and smile, for they alone knew that the true meaning of Christmas was clear in their decorating symbolism: You can hang Liz Taylor on a chain, get Doug Trumball to hook $12 million dollars of special effects up to her, run 1200 volts up her ass and watch her glow like the Hanford Waste Disposal site after a bad night, and it still looks pretty darn puny when compared when you've got friends like these. Ah-Men. Uncle Harry said it loudest, but we all realized it, and it lasted far into the night (or at lest 10:00, when organized and controlled thought were pretty much a thing of the past). And it warms the dying embers of my cerebral nodes to think back on it, and smile. Merry Christmas to all of you, and especially Anne, Rick, Quentin, Keith, Diane, Karen, and Unc. Harry, the only man ever to get his name in Lisa Birnbach's guide AND the Rolling Stone magazine in the same week (except for Lisa herself, that is...). Moriarty, aka Jeff Meyer John Fluke Mfg. Co., Inc. UUCP: {cornell,decvax,ihnp4,sdcsvax,tektronix,utcsrgv}!uw-beaver \ {allegra,gatech!sb1,hplabs!lbl-csam,decwrl!sun,ssc-vax} -- !fluke!moriarty ARPA: fluke!moriarty@uw-beaver.ARPA