Even Jews Get The Blues On Christmas

“Even Jews Get The Blues On Christmas”
by Michelle Lewis

[Michelle’s song has become one of my holiday favorites. That startled faces of the people as they open the door as I’m caroling is fantastic. It fits nicely into my “Sorry About Your Crappy Childhood” theme week besides... I couldn’t wait ten months to post it.]

Vincent: Another great song, Michelle. I particularly like:

Christmas Eve, I'd lie in bed awake
Listening for reindeer
Praying hard that Santa could make one mistake

I can just see a little kid in bed muttering, "Please, please, please," over and over.

Michelle: Ha! I'm so glad you got the visual, Vincent!
I spent several years as a kid trying to figure out how exactly Santa could discern the kids who celebrated Christmas from the ones who didn't. I decided Santa must have something like superpowers - telepathy and an acute sense of smell (to smell the cookies left out for him). The debacle that followed involved a Ouiji board, an Easy-Bake oven, a smoke alarm and our next door neighbor's wreath. This resulted in my parents having to debunk the whole Santa fantasy for me once and for all.

Pathetic, but true story.


On being Jewish at Christmas-time...

War on Christmas? Feh!

Not here in my neck of the San Fernando Valley, where literally every house, and I mean, EVERY house on the block has lights up, including my own. I might add that several families inside those houses on my block are Jewish, um, including my own. No one wants to be the buzz kill, I guess.

Some big faker on Fox news thought he could create some kind of anti-PC frenzy by fanning this non-story. But ask any Jewish person you know - it ain't so.

Christmas still kicks the ass of any other December holiday. I don't EXPECT any one to look at me and say "Happy Chanuka" in all seriousness... in fact... I'd probably think they were f**king with me if they did. "Merry Christmas," "Happy Holidays"... it all sounds like "blah blah blah blah blah." It's just something retailers say this time of year instead of ‘have a nice day." I know, I know, you want to put the "Christ" back in Christmas. If you care that much about the religious part, why not wish me a happy Day of the Second Assumption as well, huh? You won't - because it's all about Christmas, The Season.

Yeah, I get really ornery about this whole "war on Christmas" nonsense. The phrase "Happy Holidays" may seem like an attack on all-things-Christian to Bill O Reilly, but from where I stand, it's a tiny little nod to the possibility that other holidays exist. That's all. No one is trying to undermine the awesomeness of the day, believe me. That would be like shooting spitballs at the sun.

Personally, I'm looking forward to having the day off with nothing to do but watch movies and order Chinese take out.




"Even Jews Get the Blues (on Christmas)"


Middle of December
Feeling a familiar malaise
Tinsel in the windows
Red and green for miles
And I'm down for days

So much something over nothing to do
But a lame blockbuster movie and some Chinese food...

Even Jews Get the Blues on Christmas
Even Chanuka babes feel the crush
We all eat too much, don't drink enough
And pray for New Years Day
Even Jews get the blues on Christ.... Mas

Back when I was younger
Christmas Eve, I'd lie in bed awake
Listening for reindeer
Praying hard that Santa could make one mistake

But I'm finally accepting my plight
Either marry me a Catholic or give up the fight

Even Jews Get the Blues on Christmas
Even atheists and Muslims feel the pain
Of the endless whines, the last on lines
And so much left to do
Even Jews get the blues on Christ.... Mas

Chanuka Shmanuka, everyone knows it's Christmas-lite
As if candles and latkes are meant to be some consolation prize
Though I can't spin a dreidle, I know all the verses to Silent Night

Even Jews Get the Blues on Christmas
Even Buddhists could lose all their zen
From the crowded malls, the decked out halls
On someone else's day
Even Jews get the blues on Christ.... Mas
And I'll sing the songs, it won't be long
Cause Santa's on his way (but not for me)
Even Jews get the blues on Christ.... Mas


MP3 of “Even the Jews Get The Blues..” available here.

Dreaming as The Summers Die: Alice in Wonderland

[In another chapter of “Sorry About Your Crappy Childhood” we meet the real Alice of Alice in Wonderland.]


“It was a sunny, languid fourth of July in 1862, Charles Dobson [the real name of Lewis Carroll] took Alice Liddell and her two sisters on a boat ride on the river Thames. As he had often done before, Dobson began to tell a story: ‘I distinctly remember how in desperate attempt to strike out some new line of fairy lore, I sent our heroine straight down a rabbit hole without the least idea of what was to happen afterwards.’ That moment of magic on the river created a world that would change the landscape of childhood...”

“Next to the Bible and Shakespeare, Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass are the most quoted books in the English language... After Alice said, ‘Mr. Dobson, would you write that story down for me?’ Clearly a request he could not refuse. He spent the following day writing all the chapter headings out. Very carefully noting all the main features of the book. But what kind of book was Carroll writing? Are Alice’s adventures a joyful celebration of the absurd? Or the haunting dreams of a tormented author? Alice dodges easy answers.” -- Great Books, The Learning Channel

“One time after our rowing-trip, mother got upset at a letter he had sent me and tore it up. I was forbidden by her to see Lewis for a while after that. Father cannot seem to decide whether he thinks I should be able to see Lewis, but frankly, I think I will soon be too old for his nonsense.” -- Alice Liddell’s diary 15 December 1865

“Mr. Dodgson called this afternoon on business with father. I was surprised to see him in our house since he has not been invited in quite a while. It was good to see him, but he seemed rather unhappy and more business-like than usual. It almost seems as though he regards me differently now that I am an adult. I do not feel that he sees me differently necessarily because we have grown apart (or been forced apart by mother and father), rather I see him as someone who is incompetent when it comes to dealing with adults.” -- Alice Liddell’s diary 24 April 1873

 

I’m not convinced that the diary of Alice Liddell is real. It may be fan fiction like the Hitler, Jack the Ripper or Howard Hughes diaries. But they are fun to read. Much has been made of what really happened between Carroll and the real Alice that isn’t fit for a children’s book... particularly a pop up one. It is all just speculation that says more about the speculator than Lewis Carroll. But than again, Lewis always loved nonsense.

The most plausible answer? Alice's mother simply felt it was inappropriate for a 11-year-old girl to be with a middle-aged man -- a middle-aged man with the mind of an adult but the heart of a child. Alice grew up, Carroll didn't. It is that simple.

To be creative, an artist needs to see the world with the wonder of a child. Carroll did. Wonderland is the comic tragedy of Alice becoming an adult -- Carroll celebrated her growth even as he lost his playmate. He knew it was inevitable and bitter sweet. Did he love Alice? Stupid question: "Still she haunts me..." Carroll's farewell to Alice and Wonderland in Through the Looking Glass:


A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July--

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear--

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die.
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream--
Lingering in the golden gleam--
Life, what is it but a dream?



Alice Liddell’s diary: https://webspace.utexas.edu/bantweil/E375L/Alice_Liddel%27s_Diaries_P1B.htm

“Winter” by Tori Amos

Amos explained this song concerning thoughts about her father and failed aspirations to Rolling Stone: "The 'White Horses' are your dreams. That doesn't really say it. Opportunities? Roads that you thought you would go down and haven't experienced, and all these potential experiences are gone now. Those doors are closed. And imagination — the belief that your imagination can take you to places. The magical world having gone from your world, which to me there's nothing more painful than that — when you can't access your magical world. There was a moment when I thought I was too young to not be able to access that anymore. But I've noticed over the years that a lot of teenagers feel locked out of that world. They don't know how to get back anymore because in trying to become an adult you feel like you have to circumcise the magical world." -- Song Facts


"Winter"

Snow can wait
I forgot my mittens
Wipe my nose
Get my new boots on
I get a little warm in my heart
When I think of winter
I put my hand in my father's glove
I run off
Where the drifts get deeper
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown
I hear a voice
"Your must learn to stand up for yourself
Cause I can't always be around"
He says
When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed
I tell you that I'll always want you near
You say that things change my dear

Boys get discovered as winter melts
Flowers competing for the sun
Years go by and I'm here still waiting Withering where some snowman was
Mirror mirror where's the crystal palace
But I only can see the myself
Skating around the truth who I am
But I know dad the ice is getting thin

When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed
I tell you that I'll always want you near
You say that things change my dear

Hair is grey
And the fires are burning
So many dreams 
On the shelf
You say I wanted you to be proud of me
I always wanted that myself

He says
When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses have gone ahead

I tell you that I'll always want you near

You say that things change My dear

Video for "Winter"

A Path to Myself (Writing "I Never Was That Dream")

I haven't published on Strange Light as often as I like. I have around 50 articles in various stages. Obviously, I need to buckle down and finish them. I had made a choice a few month ago that I must put things in the right order in my life. Kerry, I decided, must come first among all things. If she needs my help in anyway, help in school, help in unwinding, cuddle therapy -- I will be there for her. We were going to spend a few hours together this week. That became two very full days. And they were a fun -- wonderful few days. I made the right choice.

Yet I decided I should not start anything new. I would polish a article every day or two and publish that. HA! There was a story in my head and it had to get out. Writing is the door. I had hit upon the idea of "Sorry about your Crappy Childhood" week for Strange Light. I can't recall how that popped into my head. It might have been the idea of "Winter" by Tori Amos. It is about the relationship between her and her father. That triggered the idea of the real Alice in Alice and Wonderland and the real Christopher Robin in Pooh.

I was shocked to find how much Christopher Robin hated the Pooh stories. At the time, I wrote a song from his point of view and called it "I Never Was that Dream." As I began to find the angle for this article, I kept painting him as an ungrateful son who was pissing on his dad's work. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel humane. Perhaps I was recalling that lost song of mine. I had to see it from his point of view, yet I couldn't betray the author of Pooh either. I always think "what the subject would think if they read it." Once I made that choice (seeing both points of view as valid) the writing became easy. It flowed quickly with me seeming just to be taking dictation from somewhere.

After I finished writing, I still felt something was missing. It is then I added my favorite part. When I wrote "It is sad that A. A. Milne was a really crappy dad. A man who dreamed on paper. But on paper A. A. was a endlessly curious child, a..." that whole bit about me saying what each Pooh character is to me, just made me smile. I think it gave the work heart and a real life. The last line, as always, I worked on a lot to make it just so. It was Kerry's college class on Critical Writing that reminded me of the importance of a compelling last line. And Tom Harper reading the first line from books at Garrison Keillor's bookstore, that reminded me how important that was.

How the process works, just listening to my inner monologue and writing that down came from reading Jill Sobule's journals. She is to me what Woody Guthrie was to Bob Dylan. She is a path to myself. Only in reading her, did I understand that it was okay to not force it, just let it go and enjoy. I understand A. A. Milne's playground. Writing can be a ride that is better than anything at Disneyland. Christopher Robin later in life became a writer. I suspect he began to understand why his dad was playing like a child even at fifty. On his white paper world, waiting to be explored, A. A. was finally a happy lad.

I Never Was That Dream: the Real Christopher Robin and Pooh

[Welcome to "Sorry About Your Crappy Childhood" week here at the internet ranch. First up: the sad story of Winnie-the-Pooh.]

What would it be like to see your childhood everywhere you look? A phantom world of wonder -- that was never yours. Winnie the Pooh's Christopher Robin lived with that everyday of his life.

"When I was three, my father was three," he wrote. "When I was six, he was six," adding "he needed me to escape from being 50." He said his father kept his only child at a distance: "His heart remained buttoned up all through his life." 1

"One day I will write verses about him and see how he likes it," Christopher was quoted as saying about his father. On his first birthday, Christopher received an Alpha Farnell teddy bear he called Edward. This bear, along with a real bear named "Winnie" that Milne saw at the London Zoo, eventually became the inspiration for the character of Winnie-the-Pooh. The teddy bear was about two feet tall, light in color, frequently losing his eyes, and a fairly constant companion to Milne. 2

By making him a household name in millions of homes throughout the world his dad had "filched from me my good name and had left me with nothing but the empty fame of being his son." 3

The real Hundred Acre wood was a Greek tragedy: a father lost in a blissful dream of chatty stuffed toys -- a grown son angry at his inheritance of dreams. Yet I wonder, had Christopher Robin and his father made the connection (and been a happy, normal family) would Pooh and friends ever have come to life? I doubt it. A. A. Milne was a really crappy dad. A man who dreamed on paper. But on paper A. A. was a endlessly curious child, a slightly slow bear with a heart as big as a fluffy black rain cloud. He was a cranky donkey in need of a hug and a hand full of donkey Prozac. He was a tiger "full of the spring" that nothing could stop. He was a little piglet who always felt stepped on and never sure of himself. He was us -- a sadly funny us.

I feel bad for the real Christopher Robin. There was a little bit of Piglet in him -- some Eeyore too. He had a hard life of unwanted attention -- of being pestered by fans who didn't know his side of the story. Yet I am exhilarated by the legacy of his paper self. Creativity is a odd alchemy -- turning loneliness and estrangement into love and joy. Maybe that's why Pooh and friends continue to live -- A. A. put all his love on paper.


The real toys that inspired the Pooh stories (estranged son not included.)

1 The New York Times, April 22, 1996
2 Wikipedia: Christopher Robin Milne
3 www.just-pooh.

Good Enough by Sarah Mclachlan

"Good Enough"
by Sarah McLachlan

Bill DeMain: What was the inspiration behind "Good Enough?"

Sarah: A lot of things. That song has been such an amazing experience for me because I've learned so much from it. There's so many different stories that I attach to it now. But it sort of came from, initially really missing my best girlfriend. It started out as fiction, about a couple in which the woman was pretty much alienated by just about everybody, because her husband was really abusive and domineering, which sort of somewhat mirrors my mother and father's relationship. And basically, I am the friend coming in, saying hey, you deserve more than this, why don't you come with me and I'll take care of you. The video that I'm going to do for that song is the first sort of dramatic narrative that I've done. Everything else has been pretty abstract, trying to find a parallel universe to describe it differently. But we're going to have a little girl, a man and woman, and a friend, possibly an imaginary friend. We're going to look at the relationship between the little girl and her friends and also between the mother and the little girl. And there's quite a bit of alienation from the father, who's been behind the scenes the whole time anyway.

Bill DeMain: Are songs an act of discovery for you?

Sarah: Yeah, and sometimes long after the fact. Going back to "Good Enough," one of the things I was focusing on was don't tell me why he's never been good to you, don't tell me why nothing's good enough. For a couple years, every time I'd see my mom, I'd say, you know, you deserve more, you deserve to be happier than you are. Why are you putting up with this? Basically telling her that the only thing she knew sucked. So she never wanted to see me, and I wondered why. I couldn't understand it, then I wrote that song. Around the same time, I tried reverse psychology and didn't hassle her anymore and just accepted that she had accepted. Then she opened up. She completely changed and she started saying, I'm not going to accept this anymore, I'm changing this and this and this. It was fantastic, because I wasn't beating it into her, she was doing it on her own. That song taught me that. I have a lot of emotional attachment to that song.

-- Sarah McLachlan Finds Her Own Walden Pond by by Bill DeMain

(www.taxi.com/faq/songwriting/mclachlan.html)


"Good Enough"
Sarah McLachlan

Hey your glass is empty
it's a hell of a long way home
why don't you let me take you
it's no good to go alone
I never would have opened up
but you seemed so real to me
after all the bullshit I've heard
it's refreshing now to see
I don't have to pretend
she doesn't expect it from me

Don't tell me I haven't been good to you
don't tell me I have never been there for you
just tell me why
nothing is good enough

Hey little girl would you like some candy
your momma said that it's OK
The door is open come on outside
no I can't come out today
it's not the wind that cracked your shoulder
and threw you to the ground
who's there that makes you so afraid
you're shaken to the bone
and I don't understand
you deserve so much more than this

So don't tell me why
he's never been good to you
don't tell me why
he's never been there for you
don't you know that why
is simply not good enough
so just let me try
and I will be good to you
just let me try
and I will be there for you
I'll show you why
you're so much more than good enough.

Video for "Good Enough"