the wispy tufts of
the old man’s beard in verges
hedge sparrow wind breaks
Old Man’s Beard is a common species of climbing plant which seeds in winter. The seed is covered in a tufty whiteness. I hadn’t ever noticed it before, or rather, I hadn’t paid attention to it, my distracted mind filtering it out, but D educated me. It seems to be very common in the hedges. I can imagine little Hedge Sparrows (Dunnocks) nestling in it, like a big Santa beard!
(image – RSPB website)
the cynical gaze
of a secular wisdom
a child’s faith prevails
Today we watched The Miracle on 34th Street, the original version from 1947. This is the second time I’ve seen it, and a lot more subtlety shone through for me. I often thought the newer version starring Richard Attenborough was almost its equal, but now I can see it is inferior to this magnificent original. It’s funny, sad, it pulls at your heart strings and has a wonderful ending.
Why? Because it feels real, because certain things are rightly left unexplained, you can take your own meaning from it. The modern version dumbed down somewhat, spelt it out, (spoilers, so stop here if you haven’t seen one or other of the movies) there was a “real” miracle in that somehow Kris Kringle was able to purchase the dream home little Susan Walker wanted, for her mum and dad-to-be. It’s ridiculous, syrupy nonsense, forgivable because it’s Christmas and you don’t mind suspending belief for a big shot of feel good.
But the original, oh my! It blows it out of the water. To me, Kris Kringle is just a well meaning old guy, who indeed suffers from the delusion of thinking he is Father Christmas. This is a story of positive mental illness. He doesn’t create miracles, he just makes people feel good about themselves, encourages them to take a risk and make a difference. And the final set play? He probably made it happen through some phone calls, research and then encouraging the couple to take a certain (literal) route to their destination.
What makes the film lovely for me, is some modern elements which still resonate loudly today.
1) The ugly commercialism of Christmas. Kris Kringle fights this, he pursues the true spirit of Christmas, of generosity and goodwill. The pressure of buying the right toy, the fads, the pushy marketing, he rails against this.
2) One of the main characters is a single mum and a successful one at that. Doris Walker (Maureen O’Hara), working at Macy’s department store in a senior management role, is a great role model, strong, respected and a fabulous mum.
3) Science vs Faith. Doris is also a firm believer in telling her little Susan (Natalie Wood) the truth. That there is no Santa Claus. From a commercial perspective she is rightly happy to employ Kris Kringle, he is a marketing masterstroke, but she’s perplexed and frustrated at his attempts to try to convince her daughter as to the existence of Santa. It’s implied, but I think she is an atheist too.
4) Mental illness. Now, if you, like me, believe Kris Kringle to be a well meaning but slightly mentally ill old man with a gift of making people happy, then this film gives us another positive role model. It’s stated in the film, you should only be locked up for a mental illness if you are a danger to yourself or to others. But Kris Kringle is wholly altruistic, so it is ultimately cruel when he is compelled to whack the evil company psychologist on the bonce with his umbrella thus getting himself locked up and leading to the fabulous courtroom scenes where he is represented by the savvy and endearing love interest for Doris, Fred Gailey. Of course, you may well believe Kris Kringle really is Santa, which is fine too…
You can be an atheist and enjoy this Christmas movie! It’s about faith in general, in the human spirit. The newer version pushed it right in the spiritual/ religious space, which spoilt the subtle premise… Sometimes you just need a friendly nutter with a beard to give you that little shove. Then the miracles happen! All in all, the original is a beautiful movie. Kris Kringle, played by 5’4” World War 1 veteran Edmund Gwenn is brilliant, he won an Oscar for his performance. Here he is teaching his studious young ward how to pretend, in this case they are being monkeys, in a very funny scene.
And with that said, I hope you’ve all had a lovely Christmas!
warm cloaked adventure
cheerful visitations to
family and tree
We were dropping off presents today!
bashful lights peeking
from the Christmas tree filled with
bright birds winter warmed
Our Christmas Tree is up, one day we’ll have enough bird decorations to avoid needing baubles. A christmas tree, in my own home, always makes me happy.
from the tattered box
as old as me chipped and tired
mum’s nativity
I’d enviously
peer at it imagining
the great games I’d play
I would shove the sheep
out the stable far from King
Herod’s tyranny
And sneakily I’d
position my plastic toy
soldiers to guard Him
they’d have shot his men
like in the Victor comics
Budda Budda “Arrghh!”
The three wise men would
tentatively approach Him
safe from their grenades
my brave company
British commandos mostly
and a few Vikings
I’d be told off when
mum’s silent panther steps would
catch me red handed
I’d always return
to play the Jesus war game
this year I’ll be good
that autumn harvest
of sloes plucked and pricked after
the first biting frost
slung and barrel sloshed
slow weeping their heady tears
in sugary gin
with the fire spreading
around the blood, red faced smiles
a rain repellent!
A little tribute to Sloe Gin. We met up with friends for a festive catch up. Our friend Neil had a glass of a Spanish version of Sloe Gin in our favourite Clerkenwell restaurant Medcalf. I had a dessert wine but should have got that too! It was slightly aniseed-ish, but not overpowering like a pastis or ouzo. Was a lovely subtle drink. So warming on a winter’s evening. Debbie made some Sloe gin at home, we still have some left. The process of collecting and making it, from the astringent sloe berries, mixed in a sugar and gin solution. Sloshing it around every once in a while. In a few short months, it is ready. Delicious.
When we left Medcalf, the rain was battering down. After that sort of drink though, there is a force field of red faced warmth, burning the rain before it hits you!
Dark and beautiful
the trees twinkle with the pale
glow of Christmas lights
photo © Mel Melis
take joy in the dawn
hold hands and watch the clouds drift
tell her you love her
Last night was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year of course. Often synonymous with eccentric hirsute druids performing rites at Stonehenge :)
From antiquity to the present it has been celebrated, as a high point of the year, but being the misery I am, I always feel sad at midsummer.
Why? The days are getting shorter now. The sun’s arc will diminish over the next two seasons, we’ll see less and less of her, till late December, when the Winter solstice will signal the time the days will get longer again. That time is of course associated with our modern Christmas, adopted from the pagan tradition. I’ve always loved Christmas, they were happy times as a kid. The excitement of getting one or two presents, which I would cherish. I feel sorry for modern kids, I’m not sure they feel the same wonderment of receiving a gift, don’t get the same emotional rush and the appreciation that someone has sacrificed and saved to buy you something (of course I hope they do). It’s not their fault of course, it’s just where our society’s path has taken us. Presents aren’t something special now, they’ve moved into a consumable space.
After Christmas, there is the let down and harsh months of January and February, a penance for the excitement of the festive time. And March, when the birds return, the flowers blossom and the trees deck themselves in green. It’s also my birthday in March. And that’s when my dormant happiness stirs again.
Amongst other things, I thought of Nick Drake today. And his beautiful song From the Morning. What lovely lyrics. Sad and Happy. Loss and Life. Wonder and Reflection. It says so much to me at the moment.
From the Morning (Nick Drake)
A day once dawned, and it was beautiful
A day once dawned from the ground
Then the night she fell
And the air was beautiful
The night she fell all around.
So look see the days
The endless coloured ways
And go play the game that you learnt
From the morning.
And now we rise
We are everywhere
And now we rise from the ground
See she flies
And she is everywhere
See she flies all around
So look see the sights
The endless summer nights
And go play the game that you learnt
From the morning
winter’s brittle wreath
the dead holly bite toothless
disintegrating
I saw the Christmas wreath Debbie made in a green recycle bag, the one made with twined willow and holly leaf and berry, so colourful and lovely, the one she put on our front door. Well, it’s had it basically. Old and brittle and brown.
Under seven months till Christmas!
