RRN Online Volume 291

December 29 '01

Volume 291

Las Posadas Religious & Social Celebration

There are advantages and disadvantages inherent in being the spouse of a marriage partner whose chosen work involves interaction with constituents beyond the normal nine to five workday. Any social commitment made by my wife that relates to her work often necessitates my presence as well, or so she would have me believe. Other than opening the occasional door and shaking the occasional hand of someone just introduced to me, it's not uncommon to feel unnecessary at a particular function. Were I not such a Republican sympathizer, I might have empathy for the spousal role now assumed by former President Bill Clinton.

However, a distinct advantage in being the spouse of an important person is that one is often exposed to a variety of socioeconomic levels, cultures, and subcultures within a community that falls outside one's normal exposure. The Friday before Christmas provided such an opportunity.

When it comes to language, my German lags light-years behind my English. It's been almost forty years since I studied German for two of my Ole Miss years, and my "Deutsche" is still "nicht ser gut." (I think that translates into "My 'German' is still 'not very good.'") I never got past "Bon Jour" in French, and I owe my knowledge of Spanish to years of watching "Zorro," my granddaughter teaching me to count to ten in Spanish, and an old college roommate (formerly a sailor) who went around asking "¿Qué pasa?"

Thus, faced with the prospects of staying home or attending an event, with my wife, hosted by Hispanic members of Pontotoc's Catholic Church, I chose the latter. After all, it was the Christmas Season, and I'll admit to being mildly curious about how a "Posada" related to the season. Plus, I figure the God who makes provisions for the birds of the air without putting seeds into their mouths, provides best for writers who also search for fodder instead of resting on their keisters.

Prior to attending the event, Barbara had explained the ceremony would be completely in Spanish and that it involved transporting statues of Mary and Joseph from door to door as a means of reenacting the Biblical couple's frustration in finding lodging for the night. Barbara's connection with the event came though her working with one of the Hispanic families seeking assistance from the Interfaith Storm Relief program that she directs. The appreciative individual had invited Barbara and her family to join what is a traditional celebration in Mexico, homeland to most of Pontotoc's Hispanic community.

The Posada we attended is loosely based on a Mexican tradition incorporating religious and social celebration. Posada, I would learn, means shelter or lodging. It is a tradition celebrated over several nights, nine to be exact, and always the nine nights prior to Christmas Day.

In Mexico, Las Posados, like Christmas, lends itself to a variety of celebratory forms. In one popular form, friends and neighbors gather at a home in the neighborhood. A small child dressed as an angel leads as other children carry the statues, and more children, adults, and musicians follow to a second home. There the group divides into two parts, and one group remains outside while the other group enters the home. The group remaining outside sings prayers and songs entreating those inside the home for shelter. After the group inside responds with scripted prayers and songs, those outside are welcomed into the home, and the celebration begins. A meal is served for everyone, and afterwards children bash open a piñata.

Another form of the celebration involves the processional being turned away at several homes before finally shelter is granted. Though meant to be celebrated for nine days (religious significance being one day for each month of the Virgin Mary's pregnancy), Las Posadas celebrations are often abbreviated to a few days or even a single day.

The Hispanic members of the Catholic Church in Pontotoc have adapted the format of their tradition to meet the challenge of living apart from a village atmosphere. We joined their celebration where it began, inside the sanctuary of the Catholic Church. Those attending, largely Catholics, shared a strong bond with Baptists in that everyone wanted to sit at the back of the sanctuary. The ceremony that followed, though void of formality, appeared to be well organized with persons responding according to plan. Okay, since I don't read Español, perhaps, they may have deviated from the schedule, but I could not detect it.

Barbara and I had been given candles to be used at the appropriate time. As we followed the statues of Mary and Joseph outside the sanctuary our candles were lit that we might find our way to the entrance of another building behind the church. I'm sure the candles were more for symbolism than for lighting a darkened pathway, but they added to the atmosphere of prayer and song. Additionally, after shivering in the cold night air, the candles made a decent hand warmer.

As in one of the Mexican village traditions described above, we were turned away from the first "dwelling." Our group circled the church and attempted to reenter the front doors we had exited earlier. The outside group sang, then the group inside sang, but when all was over we were turned away again. We were running out of doors to try, and as the cold air began to sap my stored body heat, I silently hoped there might be truth in the expression, "third time's the charm."

Processing to the rear of the church, we again sought shelter. It took a right smart more singing the third time than on either of the prior attempts, but we were allowed to enter. Then, as simply as the ceremony had begun, it was over. That which remained was the partying.

One of the young Hispanic women took Barbara and me under her wing. She spoke English and was eager to provide us first with some very welcomed hot chocolate and a cake-like dessert. Barbara and I both found the hot chocolate unusual. The taste was satisfactory, but I felt it had the viscosity of eggnog, and Barbara related it more to chocolate gravy. We drank enough to be polite. I was personally happier to be holding the warm cup in my hands, than consuming its contents.

We were then offered a taco, which our hostess was kind enough to top-off for us with the various garnishments associated with tacos. She also informed us they were potato tacos. I really did not understand what she was talking about until I bit into my first taco. Instead of meat, the filling was mashed potatoes. It was rather tasty, but don't look for me to go Mexican-vegetarian anytime soon.

I could not help noticing that as we ate with one another, we were racially segregated, with Mexicans on one side of the room and "Gringos" on the other side. Nonetheless, we felt accepted and enjoyed visiting and meeting others with whom we share this fair land called Pontotoc, and we welcomed the opportunity to attend our first Las Posadas.

Ridge Rider News gratefully acknowledges that permission to use the processional photograph above has been granted by

www.inside-mexico.com.

Christmas 2001 Remembering The Season

Well, it almost didn't turn cold enough, soon enough, here in Pontotoc for me to enjoy Christmas. Thankfully, Christmas Eve was nippy and Christmas Day was actually cold with highs in the mid-thirties. I suppose I would have still enjoyed celebrating both days had the weather continued the mild pattern of the previous week, but there's something about the combination of cold air and Christmas that merit being appreciated.

I'm sure that in my case it all has something to do with tradition. Having experienced almost sixty years of Christmases with practically all of them being remembered as cold weather Christmases, it's hard to imagine a warm Christmas Day and harder still to remember one.

Traditionally, members of my family will, on multiple occasions, pile into an automobile and tour the community and surrounding countryside to see the festive and often creative lighting displays of the season during the several evenings prior to Christmas. Generally speaking there are three residences that are "must sees," the Rush home a few miles down Hwy. 341, the Smith place on Hwy. 6 West, and the Williams residence on Hwy. 41. We saw each and haven't yet suffered any noticeable retinal damage to our eyes, a feat which cannot be attributed to protective eyewear or our failure to stare directly into the glare of the displays, so it must be pure, dumb luck.

All of the aforementioned homes merit more than a drive-by glance. All three homes deserve recognition for their illumination efforts, with the Rush home receiving an award for developing a color theme and maintaining it; the Smith place should get an award for having the most variety, but the Williamses would likely get the prize for the most lights, some 40,000 strong this year, up from the mere 30,000 of last Christmas. The Williams home also deserves an illumination award for "best set" design based on creative use of existing dwellings and accessories.

Our home would not capture any prizes in an illumination contest, but I did light one of the yaupon trees and use a second spotlight on the front of the house. Persons driving by could not enjoy the red bows and green garland accenting our deck behind the house, nor could they appreciate the tree inside the lanai with it's multicolored garland lights or the soft glowing red, jalapeño pepper lights. The idea to bath the deck area with spotlights did not come to me until Christmas Eve. However, the extra lighting really "caught the eye" of our guests that evening, and I was not the only one impressed at how nicely the spotlighted holly tree stood out against the backdrop of darkness.

Movies that have long been Christmas classics or are fast becoming classics are best enjoyed during the Christmas season. I've managed to watch all of my favorite Christmas movies this year but thought I would miss viewing Miracle on 34^th Street. Thanks, however, to a TV station airing back to back broadcasts of the Christmas classic, I checked it off my list late Christmas Day afternoon. Christmas Vacation and A Christmas Story were viewed at least three times during the holidays, but I only worked in two viewings of It's A Wonderful Life."

It seems that each of the four movies appeals to a different side of me. Miracle on 34^th Street reminds me of the need to believe in a real Santa Claus. A Christmas Story affords ample opportunity for me to relive the tribulations and torment of childhood but is nicely packaged with a small boy's Christmas dream of having his own BB gun. I need a double dose of Christmas Vacation to assure me that no matter how frustrating the Christmas Season can be there's room for family gatherings and lots of laughter. Lastly, It's A Wonderful Life while not so much about Christmas as it is about teaching us all the value of life and the impact each life has on others, is a poignant reminder that no life is unimportant.

Christmas music is as important toward the fulfillment of my traditional Christmas as are weather, Christmas lights, and classic movies. I continue to enjoy both secular and religious music of the season. Why, I sing of a "Winter Wonderland," and dream of "A White Christmas." I'd roast chestnuts if I had an open fire, but I don't need either to appreciate "There's No Place Like Home For The Holidays." I love Christmas Carols and have been known to sing them with gladness in the summertime. My taste in "church music" for the holidays has changed over the years to a point where I can do with far less pageantry and drama than can most churchgoers of the Baptist persuasion.

A preview of the Christmas music to be presented at FBC did not really appeal me, especially regarding my narrowing tolerance for "taped accompaniment," and I did not make it to the Saturday night presentation six days later. Instead, the following Sunday evening, I chose to attend a musical performed at FBC, Belmont, by the combined choirs of Calvary and First Baptist. For me, the best "church music" of the season came as I watched a televised presentation of traditional carols sung by the choir of First United Methodist Church of Tupelo, during the waning hours of Christmas Eve.

We've been having a Christmas party on Christmas Eve for so long that I can't imagine how I'd enjoy the season if we stopped the practice. This year, we had less than two dozen guests, but we don't do the event for the numbers; we do it because it's about friendships and tradition.

Christmas Dinner is another family tradition we enjoy. This year was no exception, and all the regulars were in attendance. Barbara borrowed her mother from the nursing home for the day; Cheryl and her sister's daughter Bridgett were here as was Aunt Jo. Sarah and her brood of two dined, as did all of my children, grandchildren, and son-in-law. There was plenty of food and room to feed even more family members, but some couldn’t attend.

It may surprise some to learn that we broke one family tradition this year and delayed opening gifts until afternoon. Jason claims it's the first time he can remember when he didn't get to open his gifts on Christmas morning. I suppose the change reflects how we can adapt a tradition to accommodate others, but don't expect me to authorize the opening of Christmas presents on Christmas Eve. If I can wait all year on Santa to visit me, I can wait a few extra hours and perhaps a few extra days, but I don't want to shorten the wait.

It appeared that everyone got at least one present they had wished for. Barbara and I received a new television set, a gift from our children. Our old one still works well enough, but because it was sort of lost inside the giant entertainment center, someone felt we needed a larger screen to fill more of the empty space. The new one does that nicely.

Christmas 2001 will be remembered at my house for all of the above traditions, and more. Nationally, we will remember it as our first Christmas after the worst terrorism to strike our country. Globally, that which has affected America may seem inconsequential to some, even as did the birth of Jesus roughly 2000 years earlier.

Jesus brought redemption and atonement for all mankind who would receive Him. His birthday makes possible our fullest enjoyment of Christmas, while providing all the peoples of the earth a reason for hope in the coming new year, 2002.

His coming makes glorious the holiday season regardless of the weather. He brought light to a dark world and His story doesn't need videotaping to be enjoyed. His coming was heralded by an angelic host that surely sang of his birth, but if they did not, His coming has given the world a reason to sing, for He came not to receive the gifts of men but to give Himself sacrificially for a world mired in sin. We feast on food and drink only to be hungry and thirst again, yet Jesus is the Bread of Life, and those who drink of the water He freely gives will never thirst again. Happy birthday 2001 (plus or minus a year or two) Jesus.

Bodock Beau A Drunk & A Ghost

The first joke below was submitted by Dena Kimbrell; the second came from her sister, Lisa Rolik:

An extremely modest man was in the hospital for a series of tests, the last of which had left his bodily systems extremely upset.

Upon making several false alarm trips to the bathroom, he figured that the latest episode was just that, so he stayed put. Suddenly, however, he filled his bed with diarrhea and was embarrassed beyond his ability to remain rational. In a complete loss of composure, he jumped out of bed, gathered up the bed sheets, and threw them out the hospital window.

A drunk was walking by the hospital when the sheets landed on him. The drunk started yelling, cursing and swinging his arms violently, in an attempt to free himself of the sheets. He ended up with the soiled sheets in a tangled pile at his feet.

As the drunk stood there, staring down at the sheets, a hospital security guard who had witnessed the entire incident, walked up to him and asked, "What the heck is going on?"

"I think I just beat the s _ _ _ out of a ghost"

Out of the mouths of babes comes the Dead Cat Test, a true story:

A kindergarten pupil told his teacher he'd found a cat. She asked if it was dead or alive.

"Dead," she was informed.

How do you know?", she asked.

"Because I pissed in his ear, and it didn't move," said the child innocently.

"You did WHAT?", the teacher squealed in surprise.

"You know," explained the boy, "I leaned over and went 'pssst,' and he didn't move."