Gone With the Wind:: Sins like Scarlett

With six inches of snow piled up outside, Saturday afternoon seemed like the perfect time to watch the classic movie, Gone with the Wind.  Yes, all four hours of it!  I’ve seen snippets of the film and heard countless pop culture references to it my whole life.  Now it was time to sit down and actually watch the movie.

Melanie (left) & Scarlett get ready to par-tay!

I loved the first half of the movie—Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh) is selfish, vain, beautiful, and strangely likeable.  She’s the anti-hero in amazingly intricate Southern dresses, plus she says great stuff like, “Fiddle dee dee.” (Mamie has some great lines, too, referring to everyone as “white trash folk.”)  Of course, it’s Melanie Hamilton (Olivia De Havilland), Scarlett’s frenemy, who I really like, though she seems a bit naïve.  I mean, doesn’t part of you just want to smack Melaine and scream, “Stop being so nice to Scarlett; she’s trying to steal your husband!”  Of course, it’s Scarlett who smacks Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) in the famous “kiss-then-slap” scene, which is supposed to be highly romantic.  I found it sort of, uh, strange.

If looks could kill...

Don’t get me wrong; it’s a good movie.  But coming at it from a contemporary perspective is problematic.  Scarlett is a conniving, business-minded woman who is bent on survival at all costs—from loveless marriages to flinging herself at married men.  We don’t like her, yet we really do (especially when she gets Mamie to make her a killer dress from curtains.)  She’s the archetype of the evil temptress, yet Scarlett rises above is more complex because she is also a lady.  Not just a refined lady of the South, but a lady who survives in the most dire of circumstances.  Perhaps it is her tenacity and selfishness that allows her to survive the Civil War, the burning of Atlanta, being twice-widowed, and then deserted by Rhett.  Or maybe she’s just a Bridezilla at heart.

...then Melanie would be dead.

Scarlett’s “friend,” Melanie, on the other hand, is so sweet that she made my teeth hurt.  Kind until the end, she basically gives Scarlett permission to marry herman and also asks her to be kind to Rhett.  Really?  Come on, Melanie, give her a final punch in the face!  To see Melanie treat Scarlett with such grace time and time again is nauseating…yet I can’t deny that it’s exactly what Jesus asks us to do.

Melanie is nobody’s fool.  I’m fairly certain she knows Scarlett’s ill intentions, but despite Scarlett’s actions, Melanie also sees some good in her friend.  She sees the possibilities in Scarlett—ones that Scarlett, in her immaturity, does not recognize.

Wasn’t Jesus like that with Judas?  I mean, think about it.  Jesus knew that Judas Iscariot was a thief, yet he allowed the man to carry the money bag!  He knew that Judas would sell him out for money, yet he kissed him and called him “friend.”  If you knew that your close friend or your husband or your sister was going to sell you out like that, would you be so kind?  I’m not sure I could or would.

There are definitely times when we need to stand our ground.  We can’t be pushovers.  And certainly Jesus was no pushover (except in the temple when He got a little upset, then He was a big push over—pushing over tables!  Haha! I’m so punny!)  I’m sure there were times it ripped His heart to shreds.  Yet there was no other way.

I had to get a pic of Mamie in this post!

Scarlett is a bit like Judas, too, as she steals and lies to get her own way.  She is like the harlot, Gomer, in Hosea.  She is like Israel and she is like you and me.  Yet she was called back to sanity by Melanie (not Rhett—that jerk ultimately left her crying on the stairs), who continues to see the best possibilities in Scarlett.  I said out loud, “Melanie, don’t you know what she’s really like?”  She did.  But she loved Scarlett anyway.  Isn’t that like God, calling us out of our insanity, into a relationship with Him?

Despite the spiritual lesson I got from Gone with the Wind, the second part of the movie was lackluster.  Almost everyone dies, including Melanie and then Rhett leaves Scarlett.  At the end, Scarlett swears that she will make everything work out and she will win Rhett’s heart back.  Then the movie ends.  I need better plot resolution.

As I think about it, I am in the middle of something that isn’t finished—the war for this earth, which I know will end up all right.  Right now, we all rage against sickness, death, heart ache, and all the things that threaten to chew us up and spit us out.  God is our only constant—and in the end, Jesus will reclaim His Bride.  Unlike Scarlett and her relationship with Rhett, we can be certain we have an inheritance in kept for us in Heaven that will never perish, spoil or fade.

Groundhog Day:: What Phil REALLY Said

Mural inside the grocery store in Punxsutawney

Groundhog Day is upon us once again, and while some of you may write it off as just another folksy holiday, which it is, it is also the first time Pennslyvania has been in the spotlight since Sen. Arlen Spector decided to join the Democratic Party.

Each year on Feb. 2, all eyes turn go Gobbler’s Knob to await the prediction of Punxsutawney Phil—will we or will we not have six more weeks of winter? My mom always hopes for an early spring…always. As if the groundhog can really predict the weather and communicate that to his human pals in top hats.

This pic is so cute! It's my new FB profile pic!

Well, gang, I don’t need to wait for Phil’s prediction this year because I scooped the Groundhog Club last Friday, Jan. 29, when I happened upon Punxsutawney on my way back from a trip to central Pennsylvania. There I was in subartic temperatures (it was like 10 degrees) having a conversation with a groundhog through thick glass as Phil relaxed at his permanent home in the Punxsutawney Public Library. I’m not sure what PETA is complaining about, but Phil sure looked cozy while I, on the other hand, was freezing to death.

Phil is happily tucked away in his bungalow. You can see his butt. Nice pose, Phil.

Phil told me that whether or not he saw his shadow, we’re still in for six more weeks of winter. Haven’t these people bothered to check their calendars? For a groundhog, Phil makes a good point; no matter what we still have to contend with six more weeks of snow, bitter cold, and well, winter.

Despite being a cloudy day in the state, Phil apparently did see his shadow this morning (could it be all the television camera and lights? My friend, Shari, certainly thinks so. Read her take on events) and you know what that means—no early spring. It seems like Phil always sees his shadow. Despite this disappointing news, Groundhog Day still calls for celebration—not only because we PA Germans invented the holiday (see Wikipedia) but because it’s fun to paaaaaar-tay!

To prep ourselves for this very important holiday, my friends Sarah and Shari joined me in making tasty treat for our Monday night ladies’ Bible study. Sarah and I picked up a groundhog cookie cutter in Punxsutawney and took a picture of a groundhog cake for Shari. I know my cake decorating pal could easily craft some amazing groundhog cupcakes (and she did!)

Below are pictures of our confectionary delights::

Shari's Amazing Cupcakes

Groundhog cookie before being iced and sprinkled

Overcome with the joy of Groundhog Day, I decided to make some cards for the ladies in my Monday night Bible study. I’m trying out my new paper crafting skills.

My cards rocked!

All in all, our pre-Groundhog Day celebration went well and caused the other members of our Bible study to squeal in delight because it was so darn funny.

Have a happy Groundhog Day, gang, and bundle up! We’re in for six more weeks of winter weather!

**Don’t forget to enter Atypical Musing’s OWOH giveaway here and enter to win the book TEA WITH HEZBOLLAH by Ted Dekker & Carl Medearis here!**

Handcrafted Items Rule One World One Heart 2010

In my ever-growing quest to win stuff on other people’s blogs, I discovered the One World One Heart (OWOH). OWOH started in 2007 as a way to bring artsy bloggers together—and to give away amazing handcrafted creations. After seeing some of the items, the over 500 bloggers (and the list is growing) were giving away, I thought to myself, “Self, you like to give things away. Why don’t you participate in this international fun fest?”

So I talked to the Queen of Quirksical, the fair rules of Etsy shop, Quirksical Creations. “Fair Queen of Quirksical,” said I, “would you consider being a good will ambassador to the people of the world by providing a gift certificate to your Etsy shop as a special gift to one special reader?”

She gave me a smile and nodded nobly. And do you know what her Majesty did? She bestowed upon me, not one, but two $15 gift certificate to her shop (One for Backseat Writer and one for Atypical Musings). And apparently, the Quirksical artisans are working overtime to provide more items for the shop, so when the contest winners are announced here on Feb. 15, there will be a plethora of beautiful items from which to choose.

Not only that, the Queen also offered to have her Royal Postmasters, the USPS, deliver the items on her dime. The entire order! So don’t worry about wasting your gift certificate on silly postage. [Free shipping is only available to residents of the U.S. and Canada.]

All you have to do is leave a comment below telling me (and the Queen—she’ll be checking in) your favorite song. That’s it! Be sure to enter on both sites [here and Backseat Writer]! I’ll be using random.org to pick the winner. Please only enter one time on each site.

Amy’s note:  I want to respond to each and every one of your comments, but I don’t want to throw off the comment counts.  A few of you have pointed out (mostly via e-mail) that I didn’t share my favorite songs!  Forgive me, but there are several:: “If I Stand” by Rich Mullins (all-time fave), ” “The Hammer Holds” by Bebo Norman, “Every New Day” by Five Iron Frenzy, “Beloved” by Derek Webb, “All Along the Watchtower” by Bob Dylan, “The Cure for Pain,” Jon Foreman, “When You Come Back Down” by Nickel Creek, “I’ll Stand By You,” by The Pretenders, and “Fireflies” by Owl City (fave current song!)  Seriously, that was hard because I left out SO MANY faves like “Defying Gravity” from WICKED.  By the way, you are always FREE to shoot me an e-mail at amy@backseatwriter.com.

Life in Pooh Corner

I had a marvelous thought—wouldn’t it be nice to live in Pooh Corner?  So I listened to “Return to Pooh Corner” by Kenny Loggins a couple dozen times (see video below.  Some of the images are funny, but you can hear the song) and decided I should pack my bags and head over to Pooh Corner.

Of course, there are a few flaws in my plan—namely, while Pooh Corner does exist in Downtown Disney in Orlando, FL, it’s just a big store with [overpriced] Winnie the Pooh merchandise.  Of course, that didn’t keep my mom and me from getting our pictures taken in front of the Pooh Corner sign.  Another tourist looked at my mom like she was a nutter, as if to say, “You’re over 60; get over it, lady!”

To make matters worse (that is, funnier), my mom happily proclaimed to the lady, “I love Pooh!” Pause. “I mean, I love Winnie the Pooh.” Tourist lady was unmoved.  “I taught kindergarten for over 30 years.” Tourist lady looked away disinterested.  We shrugged and moved on chuckling silently.

Mom & me in Downtown Disney

I love Winnie as much as the next person, but the name Winnie the Pooh is just hilarious!  He’s a male bear named “Winnie” with the added title of “the Pooh”.  If that doesn’t make you laugh in an immature fashion, you’ve got issues. Alright, he was named by Pooh creator A.A. Milne’s son, Christopher Robin Milne in the 1920’s.  We’ll just accept the differences in era and move on.

The other Pooh Corner exists in our imaginations (as well as cartoons, books, illustrations, and of course, merchandise galore).  While I can’t make a permanent move into all the fantastic lands that I envision, I can space out for a few minutes and visit Pooh Corner.

Here’s what I like about Pooh Corner—everyone is so darn cuddly.  I mean, seriously, you can give anyone in Pooh Corner a hug, except for Rabbit.  But, secretly, I think his grouchy attitude is due to the fact he wasn’t hugged enough as a child.  Or maybe it’s the lack of female bunnies.  Speaking of which, where are all the women?  Seriously, how can poor single mom Kanga have a gal’s night out? (Although the “new adventures” of Pooh do include more female characters including a blue bird named Kessie and an adorable red-head girl named Darby.)

In the real world, I have to worry about paying bills, car repairs, terrorism, and what will happen to “American Idol” once Simon leaves, but in Pooh Corner the big problems are as follows::

1. Finding Eeyore’s tail.
2. Helping Pooh get unstuck from honey jars/Rabbit’s window/and so on.
3. Counseling Piglet through his anxiety disorders and making sure he doesn’t get blown away by a gigantic wind, flood, etc.
4. Giving Christopher Robbin a makeover.  I mean, his look is a big last century, don’t you think?
5. Helping Pooh get honey (and perhaps doing an intervention for his honey addictions).
6. Making sure Tigger doesn’t bounce too high (and get stuck in big trees)
7. Keeping rascals out of Rabbit’s garden.

Plus, I’d love to hang out with Owl because he’s got a ton of books and he’s an owl.  A gigantic owl.  I could even stay at Kanga’s pad and help baby-sit little Roo.  I mean, Tigger isn’t exactly the best role model for the lad, is he?

Sadly, real life interrupts with phone calls, e-mails, text messages, and “breaking news.” Still, every so often, we all need to close our eyes and spend some time in Pooh Corner (or a reasonable facsimile).  Now who’s up for a rousing game of Pooh Sticks?  I’ll race you to the creek!

So, what do you think would be fun about living in Pooh Corner?  Or would you rather live in another storybook setting?  If so, where and why?

How Blogging Changed My Life

I’m up way too late on a Thursday night entering all sorts of random blog contests so I can win interesting handmade items (like Sock Zombies.  I never heard of them until tonight, but now I’m convinced I need one.)  I stumbled across this pretty cool gal with a blog called Probably Tabitha.  “Tabitha” (I can’t be sure she’s Tabitha since she’s only “probably Tabitha”) is offering a contest in which I can win a Sock Zombie (I really want one for an inexplicable reason), jewelry, AAAAAAAAAAAAND an awesome book with a $15 Starbucks gift card.  I mean, if I could afford to go to Starbucks, I could try it out as a writing haunt (see my post on “Writing Haunts“).  Plus, her “writing prompt” was pretty interesting, so I thought, hey, I’ll go for it.

Probably Tabitha’s Prompt: Tell me about a time when blogging changed your life. It can be as long or short as you want, and heck — it can be fiction or autobiographical. I’m not picky.

Well, Prob Tabs, this is my story.  When I first started blogging in 2004, I was a writer who was lost in a sea of words.  After working as a freelance journalist, getting a journalism degree, and then earning my Master’s degree, I was tired of writing.  It wasn’t fun anymore; it was just a pain.  When I started blogging, I could talk about anything I wanted–my hamster, Riley, or my things on Animal Planet.  It was freeing, like when I wrote columns for the college paper–something I really loved.  Blogged changed my life because I learned to love to write again.  All because of a blog.

Thanks for the question, Probably Tabitha!

Auditioning Panera

Every real writer has a writing haunt.  I’ve been trying to tell this to the non-writers in my life, who merely give me a quizzical look.  C.S Lewis frequented a local pub and J.K. Rowling a cute coffeehouse.  (Hmm…maybe I should also consider using initials.  How does A.E. Sondova sound?) In an effort to end my homebound ways, I am currently auditioning writing haunts (but not one that are haunted.)

Currently, I’m trying out Panera.  It has comfortable seating, jazzy music, a low noise level, yet enough people to make observation interesting.  There is also the temptation to shove enormous amounts of tasty bread into my mouth, but I’m dealing with it.  However, I just might bring rolls home for dinner.

So far, I’ve sat in three different locations—in a four-person booth to consume my broccoli cheese soup (yum!), in a cushy chair, which would be good for reading, but not for typing, and now I’m set up at the “booth” side of a two-person table, which has a great view of the door (so I can smile at any cute single guys that wander in).

Since breaking out my netbook, I’ve done various important things which include: writing two e-mails, getting locked out of my Twitter accounts (yes, both of them), changing my desktop background and then changing it back, refilling my soda cup with Diet Pepsi, going to the bathroom because I refilled my soda cup with Diet Pepsi, installing DropBox so I can seamlessly pass important documents between my netbook and desktop computers, worried if my netbook was getting too warm, did a Google search on “Samsung NC10 getting too warm”, felt annoyed that the size of my screen kept changing and Googled that (found no helpful information), got stared at by a little boy in a yellow and blue knit hat holding a cookie (I wanted to steal the cookie), and of course, started this blog post.

All in all, I think I’ve done a pretty good job here at Panera, so it very well could become my writing spot.  I just hate to be so corporate.  I really just need a little hole-in-the-wall spot with Diet Coke (I’ll settle for Diet Pepsi), comfy chairs, and a cozy atmosphere.  Maybe next week I’ll try Border’s.  I mean, they are having financial problems, so technically they’re not *that* corporate, right?

A Cracked Mask

Image from: celoxdesign.net

Most of the time, people take me for a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of lady.  I smile, talk to strangers, and appreciate the beauty of the world around me.  If I didn’t mention it, all by those closest to me would be fooled by my mask of “having it all together.” Of course, below the surface, we’re all fallen.  Our masks are all cracked–some more than others.  Still, few would peg me as one of those depressed, anxious, traumatized types.  Passionate, yes.  Driven, yes.  Intelligent, yes.  Terrified, sad, feigning enjoyment, no.

Herein lies the rub, I want to be honest with people about my struggles–from my swollen arthritic knees to my seasonal affect disorder, but I don’t want people to judge me by what’s wrong with me.  I don’t want others to question my ability or my talent because some days I *don’t* have it all together.  So, how does one maintain professional integrity while writing from the heart?  I suppose I could craft a secret identity, like Spider-Man, and engage others with my angst all the while wearing red spandex (figuratively, not literally.  Believe me, no one wants to see me sporting red spandex.)  Or I could be guarded separating my thoughts into two spaces–a personal blog (Atypical Musings) and a professional blog (Backseat Writer).  Still, how open do I want to be on Atypical Musings?  Surely, everything I share here will be connected to my other work.  Do I want that?  Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

The truth is–I don’t know.  I think back to my interview with Bebo Norman, who was so forthcoming in sharing his struggles with pre-performance anxiety (read interview, “Bebo Norman:: From the Ruins“).  I remember meeting him face to face before a show for the first time a few months later.  As I briefly chatted with Bebo, I wondered if he was OK.  I wanted to tell him that if he needed to do some deep breathing, I was here for him.  We could try some relaxation techniques together.  He seemed fine.  Fine for someone I don’t know. His performance was wonderful–no sign of anxiety at all.  Was his mask cracked or had he worked through the anxiety entirely? (During the interview, he told me he had been treating his anxiety and making great progress.)

Another mystery to ponder.  It really doesn’t matter what Bebo was feeling at the time because he came across as a professional, while admitting that anxiety was a huge struggle for at least part of his touring life.  He even said it was easier to talk about since the symptoms of his anxiety had greatly diminished, yet he couldn’t talk about it during the worst episodes.  But he wondered if he should have been “more real” about it. Frankly, that interview, which was to promote his newly released album has been one of the most encouraging conversations of my life.

It’s hard to be open about depression, anxiety, and the like, especially as a woman (since the fairer sex seems to judged on its emotionality).  I’ll keep asking God for wisdom in writing as I continue on this journey called “life.”

Why Josh Wilson Inspires Us

Singer/songwriter Josh Wilson’s music is inspirational.  Who knew that his viral YouTube video would inspire me to write not only this post, but one on Backseat Writer as well? (Read “Weird Wednesday:: Stuck in Newark with Josh Wilson“).

What I love about this video is not only does it highlight that Josh Wilson is hilarious, a great musician, and someone who deserves a little limelight–I doubt that Josh planned this spontaneous singalong as a publicity move.  From what I know of Josh, he was just looking to boost the spirits of his fellow travelers and have a little fun.  But God is using this video to amuse thousands of people, and through it, His Name is being made famous.  I’m pretty sure that Josh wouldn’t want it any other way, which is another reason why Josh Wilson inspires me.

To take it a step further, everyone thinks about doing something spontaneously crazy, right?  One time when I was just out of high school, my friends and I drove to the shore in February at midnight.  Why?  Who knows?  But an icy jump in the ocean made me question my sanity.  It was fun, silly, crazy–and I loved it.  Every once in a while, we get a chance to do something out of the ordinary–to have a magical conversation with a stranger, to help an elderly lady carry her groceries to the car, and once in a while, we take a chance.  A big chance.  And it changes our lives.  Josh Wilson took that chance when he pulled his guitar out of the case and started singing.  It’s wild.  It’s fun.  It’s unexpected!

It’s the way life is meant to be lived, at least in part.  We love what Josh Wilson did because it tickles our funny bones and, if you’re like me, it inspires me to be bold–to make conversation with a stranger or find a way to use my talents to bring joy to others.

Josh didn’t just sing “Hey Jude” that day; he taught us all an important lesson.  We all need to loosen up, pull out our “guitars” (talents), and “sing” loud and clear for all to hear.

Check out all of Backseat Writer’s Josh Wilson coverage (yes, he’s been ever-so-faithful in doing interviews and the like for BSW and it is much appreciated.)

A Baby Changes Everything

I don’t know much about Faith Hill, except that she’s incredibly beautiful, sings country music that makes it on adult contemporary charts sometimes, and she’s married to country star Tim McGraw.  Despite my very limited knowledge on Ms. Hill, I love her 2009 Christmas song, “A Baby Changes Everything.”  The song itself talks about the difficulty this miraculous birth had on Mary—a betrothed teenage girl and yet how the miracle in her womb changed not only her life, but the world as we know it.  And that Miracle keeps changing lives today.  I hope this song touches your heart as much as it has touched mine.  Hallelujah!  Christ is born!

A Baby Changes Everything :: Faith Hill

Teenage girl, much too young
Unprepared for what’s to come
A baby changes everything

Not a ring
On her hand
All her dreams and all her plans
A baby changes everything (x2)

The man she loves she’s never touched
How will she Keep his trust
A baby changes everything (x2)

And she cries, oh she cries

She has to leave, go far away
Heaven knows she can’t stay
A baby changes everything

She can feel it’s coming soon
There’s no place, there’s no room
A baby changes everything (x2)

And she cries and she cries O she cries

Shepherds own they got their …
Star shines down…

Choir of Angels say
Glory to the newborn king
A baby changes everything (x2) everything, everything, every day
Hallelujah x4

My whole life is turned around
I was lost and now I’m found
A baby changes everything (x2)

Christmas Carol Conundrum

Christmas carols.  Nothing quite fills the heart like a good ol’ Christmas carol.  It conjures up images of family singing around the spinet while holding hands and drinking hot cocoa or a group of classically dressed carolers filling neighborhoods with their angelic voices.  Of course, I don’t know anyone who actually owns a spinet or caroler outfit complete with muff.  Heck, my parents are divorced, so I have to do Christmas twice, and if there’s any singing, it’s probably a Beach Boys song.  So, I’m wondering, do traditional Christmas carols still make sense in our oh-so-modern world of pink Christmas trees and Black Friday?  In fact, did some of these carols ever make sense?  Let’s take it song by song.

“Santa Claus is Coming to Town”

At first glance, this song seems like a nice little tune reminding kids that Santa’s arrival is soon, but as we search further into the lyrics we discover this: “He sees you when you’re sleeping/ He knows when you’re awake/ He knows if you’ve been bad or good.” Hmm…Santa Claus sounds like Big Brother.  Weren’t we warned about this sort of thing in the book 1984?  Santa is secretly taking away the privacy of millions of Americans—all the while we’re worried about the federal government performing wire taps.  Santa isn’t even trying to be stealth about it.

“Away in a Manger”

It’s a cute little song until “no crying he makes.” What a perfect little angelic baby!  I bet he didn’t poop or spit up on Mary either.  I mean, He wasn’t fully human or anything.  (Or as my best friend, Sarah, put it, “He’s human in every sense, except he never cried.”) Or pooped.  Because babies never do that sort of stuff, right moms?

“Little Drummer Boy”

I have never understood this song, but I love singing the “rum-pum-pum” part.  Our choir director really taught us to roll those R’s.  I like the sentiment of the song—a poor little shepherd boy offers a beautiful present to the newborn babe by playing his drum, which is the only thing the lad has to give.  How can you not get a little choked up by the humble sentiment of this song?

But in reality, who plays a drum for a baby?  Can’t you just imagine it?  Mary finally gets baby Jesus down for a nap, and all of a sudden this kid shows up with his drum.  Mary didn’t nod in approval for the kid to start pounding, she was nodding off!  She was a new mother and exhausted.  Then Baby Jesus probably started screaming His blessed little head off.  That’s what I wanted to do when I heard pounding from the workman renovating the apartment above ours a few months ago.

“I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”

Is Mommy cheating on Daddy with a man twice or even three times her age?  I mean, did he like her Christmas cookies *that* much?  The song isn’t “I Saw Santa Claus Kissing Mommy,” so we have to assume that Mommy is the one who initiated inappropriate contact with Mr. Claus.  And what of Mrs. Claus?  Does she know that strange cookie-baking women are putting the moves on her husband?    Or could it simply be that Daddy is dressed like Santa Claus and Mommy kissed him?  I’ll go with that.  There are too many seedy extra-martial affairs in the news lately.

“We Wish You a Merry Christmas”

The first verses of the song ring out a joyous Christmas greeting; it isn’t until a later verse in which we experience a conundrum of sorts.  “Now give us some Figgie pudding” and “We won’t go until we get some.” First of all, what is Figgie pudding (also spelled “figgy”)?  I imagine it’s pudding with figs, which are sort of like prunes.  If the carolers wanted prune-like products, why didn’t they carol down at the old folk’s home?

Second, we won’t go until we get some?  How is that a way to spread Christmas cheer—by offering the free gift of a carol and then demanding this so-called Figgie pudding?  Then the song lyrics promise trespass, which is just inciting civil unrest.  All of a sudden the cops have to come to disrupt the carolers for loitering and demanding Figgie pudding in sing-song form.  And why not banana pudding?  It’s so much tastier!

While I only chose five songs to discuss, there are more out there that either don’t make sense to our modern sensibilities.  There’s the problem of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”—does Santa has eight reindeer as stated in the poem “Twas the Night Before Christmas” or nine deer as the Rudolph legend seems to imply?  Let’s not even get started on the “12 Days of Christmas.”  I just don’t know how to make sense of it all, so maybe I’ll grab a cup of egg nog, sit by a keyboard with a spinet sound, and rock around the Christmas tree with the rest of them.  Sometimes it’s better not to question tradition, just accept it and move forward.

Are there any Christmas songs you find sort of silly?  What are you favorite carols to sing?