For the past couple of weeks, I have been engrossed in Ken Burns' masterful history of The War, specifically World War II, on PBS. I wasn't born until after that war, and I feel sure that anyone in our class who was born while it was being fought, is actually too young to have any personal memories of it. I truly believe The War should be seen by every one of us, and recommended to our children and grandchildren. Those who served in the war's far-flung theaters of operation, and those who "served" by their efforts at home, are now dying at the rate of about 1,000 per day, and I don't think I can possibly overstate the importance of preserving their memories of that time, much as Steven Spielberg is recording the stories of Holocaust survivors in his Shoah project.
As our parents' generation leaves us, it is incumbent upon us to teach our own children, and grandchildren, the history (not only of our country, but of the world) that came before them ... before US, even. What a concept! However, it is equally incumbent for us to know what we're talking about when we assume the role of educators. If you didn't see The War, I urge you to do so ... and to keep history alive and REAL for those who follow us.
That said, fall is here!!! Glorious fall ... my favorite time of the year. I think my affinity for fall goes beyond my desire for cooler weather after the scorching summers of Texas and Las Vegas, probably back into long-dead (!) memories of Celtic rites and traditions, smoke from the bonfires blending with the Irish mists, the dying of the old year and the rebirth to come. Which immediately begs the question: Isn't it fascinating to learn how many different people in many different lands calculate and celebrate the New Year? Anyway, it is fascinating to me. I am sure some of my friends have been bemused over the years as I have sent them e-cards celebrating not only "our" New Year, but Chinese New Year, Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year), Muharram, Songkran, and coming up soon, the putative Celtic New Year (Samhain anyone?), which many people think may be the origin of our own festive Halloween. And, I thought you might be interested in reading the truthy story of Halloween ... its truthiness as Stephen Colbert might say, and as Merriam-Webster defines.
The Truthy Story of Halloween
by Guinevere the Druid Goddess*
*or, yours truthily ....
Many people think the appellation "Halloween" is a colloquial contraction of "All Hallows Eve" and that Halloween is a quasi-religious holiday with deep, primordial roots in pagan ethos. Not so. Halloween was invented by, and named for, a displaced Irishman living in the Carpathian Mountains, curiously if ethnically yclept Hal O'Ween, who had been run out of Ireland (along with other assorted snakes) for sundry nefarious schemes. After wandering aimlessly through Eastern Europe with a loaf of bread, a jug of wine and a band of itinerant midgets he had befriended along the way, Hal reached the end of his purse and his provisions (not to mention his Reeboks) and decided it was time to settle down and find sustenance.
Unfortunately, neither Hal nor his band had a nodding acquaintance with the Carpathian (or any other variety) work ethic, so he turned again to a life of crime. Hal and his band first attempted highway robbery (in the original, rather than than the political, sense ... however, I digress), but this proved discouraging (and ultimately fatal) because the members of the band were so small that passing coachmen whipping their horses at breakneck speed simply ran over them.
Hal's next scheme involved sending one or two of his band to the huts of Carpathian villagers. When a villager answered the door, the band members would brandish their cudgels and growl menacingly, "Fight or Feed!" However, no self-respecting Carpathian villager is going to kowtow to such belligerence, particularly from the vertically-challenged, so the situation rapidly deteriorated to all "Fight" and no "Feed", which the villagers found to be great sport anyway. (In fact, though it cannot be proven, scholars speculate that in addition to Halloween, the great contemporary pub pastime of dwarf-tossing began during Hal's Carpathian sojourn.)
Facing defeat, frustration and imminent starvation. Hal and his band retired to their cave to contemplate their navels (both cosmically and culinarily speaking). Then, just when everything seemed darkest (I believe it was just before the dawn), Hal hit upon his great, immortal idea. Once again, Hal sent his band in groups of two into the village, but rather than waving their clubs and demanding "Fight or Feed", the band members were now dressed in cute costumes and lisped winsomely at the villagers, "Trick or Treat?" When the villagers asked what they meant, "the band answered "For Hal O'Ween!" And this time, the villagers deduced, as Hal intended (the average Carpathian villager not being known as a mental marvel), that this was some new game for children. Eager to play, the villagers now showered the band members with potatoes, black bread and the odd joint of mutton.
After a few nights of this, Hal and the band had made considerable inroads into Carpathian larders, whereupon the villagers cried "Enough!" (or the Carpathian equivalent thereof), and decreed that from that day forward, Halloween (Carpathian villagers are likewise not known for their spelling abilities) would be observed only once, at the end of the harvest season. As a sop to the "kids", the villagers decided to distribute candy, sweetmeats and other delicacies, rather than pedestrian foodstuffs, to all those cute "little ones" who came to "Trick or Treat for Halloween".
So that is the truthy story of Halloween. What? You ask what became of Hal and his band? Well, after his Carpathian cookie crumbled, Hal and his band immigrated to the United States, settled in New Orleans, formed a musical group in Le Vieux Carre, and went on to great renown. Surely you've heard of ... (rim shot, cymbal) ... "Hal-exander's Ragtime Band"????
I feel your pain ....
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8 comments:
Re: The Truthy Story of Halloween
by Guinevere the Druid Goddess*
Guinevere (or is it Your Goddessness),
I find your truthiness in regard to the orgin of Halloween to be absolutely fascinating and delightfully creative if not totally politically or historically correct. What fun it would have been to have you in a creative writing class in school! Tell your friend and alter ego, Jennifer, that it was really a sweet treat to allow you to share you carefully researched theory with us. No doubt you could add spice and truthiness to the Wikipedia Encyclopedia and, of course, a migraine headache to the staff. Personally, I really enjoyed meeting Hal and his loyal band.
How right you are about the importance of giving our children a foundation for understanding our history through the sharing of memories of that time! Teachers who have come to depend on textbooks as the sole source for any subject are doing a major dis-service to their students. Not only are textbooks lacking in presenting adequate representations of the subject matter, the textbooks are totally incapable of leading our students to make the connection of what could be perceived as a dry subject to anything resembling relevance to their own young lives. I believe that this critical part of education is all too often missing from today's classrooms. "Read the chapter and answere the questions at the end" is no longer a defenable or responsbile way to teach students in any subject. Every student has to be immersed in "active learning" in order to gain an understanding to the age old question of "Why do we have to learn this??" Students have to be led to the point of making the big "ah ha" that occurs when he or she suddenly sees that what ever is being studied in the classroom has some sort of real life application. Sharing memeories is one excellent example of facilitating this phenomena.
I once had the pleasue of working with another teacher who had given his students an assignment that included interviewing family members, neighbors, or other people who were willing to share their stories about World War II. The stories gathered by his students would later be shared with classmates and others. We arranged for an Amarillo woman to meet with some of the students to tell them about her life as a civilian during this time. It was so wonderful to see the light come on in the students eyes when she showed them ration stamps, v mail and other "artifacts" she had saved to share as she told her stories. Later other students went to the home of an aging man who so proudly shared the stories of his life as a soldier in the war as he displayed his medals and pictures. This assignment did more to facilitate student learning than any textbook ever could have done. History came alive for these kids when they saw the reality of what had occured to real people who in some cases were not much older than the students themselves when the experience occured.
Jennifer has effectively reminded all of us to not depend on schools to get the message across to our children and grandchildren. Immersing them in family stories is a great way to instill in them the ability to think critcally and creatively.
Guinevere the D.G. asks me to convey her delight that you enjoyed the "truthiness" of her tale. Actually, if anyone is to be blamed ... er, congratulated (?) ... for Guin's emergence, it is probably Darryl Morris, who encouraged such freewheeling spirits long ago and far away in journalism class. We like to think he would be proud ... or at least not pondering penance for what he hath wrought ....
……..I loved the story about Halloween….you could have written for “Fractured Fairytales”………who was that…..some dog with his person named something?......(Norman…or Sheldon?)
I also loved your story about the guy in the air force academy…that was a hoot….
I believe you are thinking of Mr. Peabody and Sherman ....
And thank'ee kindly for your kind words and your equally skewed sense of humor. We'll be looking to hear more from you as your schedule permits ....
Nicki, I wish to warn you that this is only the tip of the iceberg of Jennifer's and Guinevere's creative talents. When those two get together, LOOK OUT, you are in for a real mindboggling treat! Vertically challenged? LOL!! I must say that I have read your story twice, laughing wholeheartedly, Dear Guinevere, and plan on sharing it with others who have similar interests in Samhain.
AS for the history of the war, you are so right, how are we going to know if our parents do not share their stories. I was lucky enough to spend a great deal of time with my oldest daughter's father in law, Mario Foglia. Mario was a WWII vet. We never had a conversation without his thoughts always going back to the war. Some of his stories were very sad, but most of them were of homecomings and fun times. One of his most favorite memories was the warm reception his company received when they entered France. He remembered giving all of his food rations to a young mother who in turn gave him a case of Chartreuse! Mario was happy about that! Good Trade!
Mario didn't like to talk about the bad things, like fallen soldiers. He would just shake his head and tears would start to form in his eyes. He was in his 80s when he was telling me stories of things that happened to him when he was in his early 20s. His saddest story was the one of losing his brother. He always said, "Sometimes it is just too late to tell someone that you love them."
I really miss his stories.
My grannie had a bunch of stories too, and I miss her stories.
ok...enough. thanks for listening??
Oh, dear Shee-Ra ...Guinny the D.G. was SO happy to see your lovely comment, she was literally bouncing from wall to ceiling and back, such was her joy! Yahn finally bagged her with a tranquilizer gun, and I'm sure she'll be fine after a little rest and some soothing green tea ....
As for me, I can't thank you enough for sharing your comments about the war, and particularly Mr. Foglia, and the absolute importance of actually ASKING, and then SHARING stories from our family and older friends who lived through that era.
I've previously referred in passing to my father, Keith Johnston, who was a bomber pilot (B-25 Mitchell bomber) during WWII, and I'd like to add just a bit here.
Daddy (he'll always be my "Daddy", even if I am 60 years old and he is now long gone) flew 63 bombing missions over North Africa, Sicily and Italy. I believe I have read somewhere that 25-30 missions was about standard before one was rotated back to the States, but Daddy exceeded that. He told me that he was considered a "lucky" pilot by his crew members ... that he brought so many of his planes back shot full of bullets and flak that his commanders took one look, told the mechanics to salvage whatever they could, and shove the rest into the Mediterranean. But NO ONE flying WITH Daddy was ever Purple-Hearted, despite the absolute sieves they returned in. He did lose two of his usual crew who had been pulled for other missions and were shot down or killed in flight. As a side note, Daddy's tent-mate in North Africa was Joseph Heller, who wrote "Catch-22." Daddy never said so, but when I read the book, I could tell that Mr. Heller had indeed remembered him.
Daddy said that when the squadron was moved to Italy, they were welcomed by the Italians much like Mr. Foglia by the French, and that our guys there likewise went out of their way to help the Italians with rations and other provisions and assistance. I know he was forever grateful to those Italians who shared their homes and their warmth with him and his men, who were so far away from home and family.
A year or so ago, I tried to obtain Daddy's service records so I could pass them on to our grandkids. Unfortunately, I found that most of the records had been destroyed in a massive fire at the storage facility a few years ago. Several weeks later, I received a package in the mail, and when I opened it, I found that (without being asked) they had sent me duplicates of Daddy's service medals. Among other things, he received the Distinguished Flying Cross with six oak leaf clusters, and the Air Medal with four oak leaf clusters, all of which denote occasions when he was cited for meritorious service and gallantry "above and beyond the call." I can't tell you how I cried ... or how proud I am of my Daddy. Still, I wish I knew more ... but Daddy would never have told me anything like that about himself.
The last time I was with Daddy before he died, our youngest, Chiara, was being married in 1990, and Daddy and his wife Ruth flew in for the festivities. After the rehearsal dinner, a bunch of us (including of course Daddy and Ruth) retired to the piano bar in the hotel for visiting and reminiscing. I asked Yahn to surreptitiously slip the piano player a nice gratuity, and ask him to play the songs which were popular during WWII, and we sat there for about two hours, listening to "I'll Be Seeing You", "Paper Doll", "Tangerine", "Blues in the Night", "As Time Goes By" and others ... and I can still see Daddy's eyes grow misty and his soul slip silently back to that time when he was so handsome, and so young, and so brave. I'll cherish that memory for the rest of my life.
We ... and the blog ... would be so honored if others from the class would recount their fathers' stories from that war, or the Korean war ... or their own stories from Vietnam or elsewhere ... if they are so moved. We owe our veterans such a great debt, even if our means of repayment is totally inadequate to the sacrifice.
I guess that the saddest part of all of this is that so quickly our parents are fading away and we are so slowly gaining the respect we need for their endeavors, especially their sacrifices during WWII.
I am beginning to understand your statement about Speaking....and finally there was no one to hear. WE muxt not let that be our mistake.
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