RantWoman awoke on Christmas Eve to much family email. RantWoman responded to the most idiosyncratic one and got an earful of Little Sister's current, er recurring tale of woe. Little Sister had finally sent out an email saying due to serious health matters she and household do not feel up to holiday meal at RantMom's or to planned expedition to church. There was various family fluttering about by phone with different expressions of expectations, desires, and familiar familial melodrama. RantWoman was feeling a SLIGHT pang about not intervening more forcefully days earlier; usually when RantWoman feels such pangs, she reminds herself that other people are also grownups, that she has no capacity even to try to play fairy godmother, and increasingly that some parties are more able to manipulate situation than RantWoman might initially give them credit for.
So it was with what started out in email as a huge expedition to family Christmas Eve service at church Little Sister and Irrepressible Nephew attend. Little Sister now wanted to beg off. The out-of-family contingent dropped out as RantWoman had predicted. RantMom had already booked paratransit and did not want to unbook. RantWoman thought 3 pm was too darn early for a Christmas Eve service, especially on a rare sunny winter day. RantWoman was also peeved with Little Sister for making everyone make plans to suit her and then flaking out. Than RantMom called back to see whether RantWoman and Little Sister could, if Nephew were interested, work it out so Nephew could meet Auntie on the bus. Duh! We have done that handoff many times, though this time Nephew at first claimed not to want to come.
Anyway, Nephew changed his mind as soon as RantWoman spoke directly to him on her cellphone from her bus stop. RantWoman and Nephew had an easy just hang together ride to the church. We found RantMom without having to resort to cellphones. Although the church would eventually fill with hundreds of perfume-drenched Presbyterians presbyteriating, RantMom landed an aisle seat and everyone sat down for a good 40 minutes of expectant waiting. Well, it was expectant, but the sheer volume and exuberance of those chattering around her made RantWoman less than sure it would be a GOOD 40 minutes.
The church sanctuary is cavernous with blue-themed enormous stained glass windows and an enormous pipe organ. Okay, let's just admit it: God speaks to RantWoman through pipe organs, and RantWoman does not even consider this evidence of any kind of psychiatric disorder. RantWoman concedes that if George Fox had had this problem, a lot of history might be different. Alas, the holiday pageant would not require a single note from the pipe organ.
The pageant did include a cherub choir as well as some slightly less cherubic angels with glowstick wings doing a musical number. Next came some shepherds and their humanoid-sounding flock who talked about being asked to visit the Baby Jesus even though they are low-level night shift shepherds, and smelly ones at that. Three funky rocked-out wise men followed and on their heels an appearance by King Herod, the holy family themselves, and more carols. The pageant culminated with the obligatory mass lighting of candles and singing of Oh Little Town of Bethlehem and Silent Night. RantWoman found herself wondering whether the concept of Inner Light arose just because anyone was terrified of whole houses of worship full of people toting lit candles.
To RantWoman's great relief the program did not call for those assembled to attempt anything very complicated with lighted candles. People at the ends of the pews were expected to have their candles lighted and then to hold them steadily as their neighbors lit candles from their flame and then passed the light down the pew. The congregation endured only a few minutes of whole pews full of blazing candles. Then practicality and a desire to safely get out of there took over, and the mass extinguishment happened much faster than the lighting.
RantMom waited at the church for her paratransit. RantWoman and Nephew just missed a bus home as we emerged. Nephew was not the least displeased to be offered pizza while we waited for the next bus. On the way home, boring pedantic Auntie who has no idea whether the stained glass actually has any more formal narrative that multicolored mosaic asked The Boy whether anyone has ever explained to him any meaning for the stained glass. RantWoman explained that in some churches, stained glass windows contain things like images of saints or other visual aids so people who cannot read can remember different Bible stories.
Nephew did not know a thing about stained glass stories. Instead he wanted to talk about 1. being on the roof and seeing his mother on the sidewalk below. 2. bungee-jumping off the roof for Cub Scouts. 3. Somehow getting to play an angel for something involving flying around on bungee cords inside the sanctuary. RantWoman is debating whether to discuss the theology of bungee cords with Nephew's mother.
Nephew and RantWoman made our way to his house where, for the first time in years Little Sister put up a Christmas tree. This year, RantWoman helped RantMom but did nothing this year on her own behalf except a door swag. RantWoman was just to happy for vicarious tree at Little Sister's.
RantWoman not only wound up hanging out a very good while just to gawk at the tree, RantWoman also assented to a festive holiday evening of Dinopoly. What is Dinopoly? Dinopoly resembles Monopoly in a very large number of respects as far as basic rules except that one buys Dinosaurs, time periods, Fossils, bones and Museum exhibits instead of property. One also answers Dinosaur trivia questions and endures other random events typical of an archeological expedition. For example, RantWoman was able to buy the Triassic and Jurassic periods but had to pay fees to get elected the head of an expedition. RantWoman does not remember what other time period Nephew bought besides the Cenezoic era.
RantWoman counts it as some kind of holiday miracle that her overwrought eyeballs made it through a serious spell of Dinopoly. Nephew also did remarkably well as the banker: RantWoman ruthlessly made him do LOTS of subtraction and practice making change multiple ways. In consideration of the holiday, RantWoman decided not to hurry about teaching the boy quite all the machinations of game board capitalism. When recounting all of this to another Friend, RantWoman learned that, according to this Friend, Monopoly was named by Quakers! RantWoman already knew about the Atlantic City connection; for the time being RantWoman is stashing the Quaker connection as an odd gift of trivia for the holiday!
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment