Christmas 2016

With friends for a late Christmas Day treat ...

"Let it Snow" Photo: Walter Gryskiewicz

Photo: Walter Gryskiewicz

Photo: Walter Gryskiewicz

Photo: Walter Gryskiewicz

Photo: Carol Grys

Then the music started ... 

All my relations ... Aunty Edna

Fervent Festive Seasonal Holiday Greetings
from Our Aunty Edna ...

Merry Christmas! 

... Goddammit!

Merry Christmas

"I don't care whatever the f#*k holiday you or any other dumbass motherf#*ker like you may be celebrating this time of year. 

I'm putting Christ back in Christmas*. The Jesus is back! And, he loves you! Whether you like it or not. Get used to it!"
Merry Christmas

I celebrate the Birth of our Lord! 

So ... Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas

"Now go f#*k yourself for making folks feel peevish to say it, and instead feel compelled to say "Happy Holiday!" (Or, even if you didn't force anyone to, but went along with it. Like a sheep!)"

Quoting verbatim — an old Wronski family go-to hot profanity — the full litany of Aunty's disdain for the un-Godliness that has crept into the season ... "Tipsh psia krew choleta jasna pioron chaz, goddam sonofabitch, damn it to hell anyway." Not directly translatable. But, if you shout the words out load at veins-a-popping full volume, you'll get the gist of it. 

* As for gifts ... "I don't want much. But, please. Let it have quality."

Seems Aunty Edna is right in tune with the Zietgiest ...

Christmas Carol

In my youth every year on Thanksgiving Day in Detroit the J.L. Hudson Company parade concluded with Santa dismounting from his sleigh to address the crowd from the awning platform at Hudson's on Woodward Avenue. 

And, reliably, his beautiful helper, Christmas Carol.

 

I loved Christmas Carol. The perfect girl. Jet black hair. Bright red coat. Black patent leather shoes. Sweet as sweet could be.

Here's the whole story on this beautiful lady. Click to read.

From then until Christmas Eve Santa and his helpers could be found at the special, and magical, Santa Land on the twelfth floor near — as you might guess — the Toy Department. This was retail, after all.

As a boy I was hugely and ardently attracted to the whole scene. But, the meet up with Santa, Mano-a-Mano, was a bit intimidating. I may have demurred a few times from actually going all the way to see him.

Later, I keenly remember, after getting a little too old for Santa, visiting the elaborately decorated room leading to the Big Man himself, and wistfully longing for those earlier days of magic and fantasy.

Nobody told me Santa was a fantasy. It just dawned slowly. 

Now, however, with some maturity, I'm not so sure.