Where Demons Live

I once heard a Bible teacher say, when he had to stop his delivery because of a malfunction in the venue's sound system, that, "Demons live in sound systems—and piles of coat hangers." I laugh out loud whenever I think of his observation. Or when I'm trying to untangle wire coat hangers. Or Christmas tree lights.

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My Girlfriend

Do high school athletes give their letter sweaters or jackets to their girlfriends anymore, or is that a relic from the dark ages of the 1960's? Daughter Anna decided she would model my football letter sweater this afternoon -- and then take it home. Hasn't been worn since Sarah Hamilton wore it in 1965 at Decatur High School. Those were the days.

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Overweight Vegans

I often mention the value of the monthly (free, email) newsletter -- The McDougall Newsletter -- published by Dr. John McDougall, one of the first modern M.D.'s to crusade for a plant-based lifestyle as a foundation for good health and disease prevention. Anyone who is interested in health and a vegan lifestyle who doesn't subscribe to this newsletter is missing the opportunity for a consistently informative and challenging read -- not to mention Mary McDougall's monthly recipes (which I print out and save).

This month, Dr. McDougall's lead article is on "fat vegans" -- vegans who load up their diet with processed soy "foods" and oil products (like Earth Balance) instead of with the complex carbohydrates that the plant-world offers. He describes his own introduction to the vegan lifestyle in 1977 -- always interesting to read the stories of the "founding fathers" in any discipline.

This month's newsletter (main article and recipes) is here, and you can subscribe to the newsletter in the left column of the home page, here.

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Ho! Ho! Uh-Oh! Peace on Earth, But Not at the North Pole

I listened to a long story on NPR yesterday afternoon about A.O.R.B.S.—the "Amalgamated Order of Real-Bearded Santas." This is/was an organization of men who play the role of Santa Claus every year at Christmas (at malls, parties, etc.). AORBS had one strict prerequisite: Every member-Santa had to have a real, flowing white beard. No fake fuzz for this group.

I looked online for the story transcript to clarify details, but couldn't find it, so I will summarize what I remember from this long piece. (The AORBS web site is here with a front page disclaimer hinting at the details I'm about to relate.) AORBS began innocently in 1994 in California with a few real-bearded Santas who began meeting together for meals, sharing tips, and enjoying their unique place in the culture. Word of their meetings spread, others joined, an official organization was created, chapters were started in other cities, and soon newsletters, a web site, local meetings and a national convention followed. But it was a short-lived lovefest for the rotund ones.

It wasn't long before charges of power grabbing, financial impropriety, and mismanagement surfaced. Charges and counter-charges were made public, physical confrontations were witnessed at meetings, organization officers were booted, the organization split into competing groups -- and, well, you get the picture. The Santas had succeeded in tarnishing the last vestige of the secularization of Christmas -- a kind, bearded, generous, and jolly being called Santa.

The NPR story concluded by suggesting that the conflict within AORBS is ongoing -- but by the time the story ended I had lost interest. The story line was all too typical and wholly unsurprising. And it pretty much represents why I began losing interest in "Christmas in America" years ago.

Christmas should be about the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, God's gift to humankind. I certainly respect every person's right to celebrate whatever holidays he or she choses, including the Americanized Christmas. But when the Santas can't even live together with "peace on earth and good will toward each other" . . . .

I look forward someday to experiencing something that I'm not sure I ever have (or at least in many, many years) -- a Christmas season creatively focused solely on the birth of Jesus. I wish the fueding Santas well, but am not holding my breath.

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