All Things Christmas including Santa and NORAD

Image by Castleguard via Pixabay

Once again I return with my traditional Christmas post, because, as with all good Traditions, it has the right amount of fact while not taking itself too seriously. And at the end of yet another tumultuous year, we do need a bit of not taking oneself too seriously! 

Let it raise a smile as snippets are retold over a glass of something warming and yet another brandy-laced mince pie.

Wishing all my readers, of this blog and of my novels,
a wonderful festive season, whatever your beliefs. 

 ~~~~~

Who will be leaving gifts at your hearth? 

Here in the UK it is definitely Father Christmas who will be visiting, and despite his title he has nothing to do with Christianity, or parenthood, or even humans. It is the spirit of Mid-Winter, a personification clothed in evergreen, wrapped in holly and ivy, and garlanded in red berries and mistletoe. 

Striding in from the myths and mists of pre-history, this jovial spirit arrived at the solstice to partake in the mid-winter frivolities. The people welcomed it with entertainment, plied it with food and alcoholic beverages, and gave offerings so that it might not linger too long but instead beat smooth a path for an early spring.

Not a terrible lot changed when the Roman Legions clanked up the beaches to make a home in these lands. They brought with them Saturnalia, a festival of light. Homes were garlanded with evergreen, and a good deal of partying was undertaken beneath the watchful eye of their god of agriculture, Saturn, often depicted carrying a scythe. 

 

So far so good.

Enter Christianity and a need by the early church to leverage ‘Jesus the Christ’ against entrenched Paganism. No one knew the birthdate of Jesus of Nazareth, so the Pope of the time decided Jesus should be given one. The Pagan equinox celebrations of spring and autumn had already been appropriated, so why not align the day to the biggest Pagan celebration of them all? A bishop from the Middle East, recently raised to sainthood for his good works, was also pressed into action: Nicholas (more or less). 

 

In the face of such worthiness the Brits remained steadfastedly wedded to their eat, drink and make merry.

 

The Romans assimiliated or left for sunnier shores, and the Saxons and Jutes invaded from Germania, bringing along their Woden and winter’s Father Time. They also believed in eat, drink and make merry, so they fitted in quite well. 

 

A few centuries later came an invasion by the Norse and Danes (Vikings) who also believed in eat, drink and make merry. [Careful readers may notice a pattern developing.]

 

They brought along their own version of Woden – Odin – who, during mid-winter, took on the manifestation of Jul – Yule – in that he was portly, white-bearded signifying age, had the ability to see into people’s minds and know if they’d been good or not-so-good, and rode a horse, Sleipnir, which travelled at terrifying speed due to it having eight legs. 

 

Father Christmas as we know him was beginning to coalesce.

Saint Nicholas didn’t truly put in an appearance on British shores until these islands were invaded yet again [becoming monotonous, isn't it?] this time in 1066 by ex-Vikings, the Normans, hailing from what is now a region of northern France. However, no matter how the populace was “encouraged” to be pious, once out of the church doors after celebrating Jesus’ birthday, eat, drink and make merry remained the national stance. 

 

Not even the Puritans, who in the mid-17th century took the field and the country during the English Civil War, could fully abolish Christmastide – ie the eat, drink and make merry – though they certainly gave it a determined try. In retaliation, Father Christmas, as he was by then well known, made appearances in Mummer’s Plays, to raise a glass or an obscene gesture (or both) to the Puritan Parliament. 

 

And what happened to the Puritans? They were happily waved off to America (more or less).

Mummers entering a well-to-do Victorian house, Father Christmas leading. Note his holly staff & crown, and drinker’s false 'red' nose. Assorted characters in the troupe following include St George & the Dragon, England’s patron saint. Illustration, by Robert Seymour, from ‘The Book of Christmas’ by Thomas Kibble Hervey, 1836. Image in Public Domain via Wikimedia. (click to enlarge)

 

It was in America, after the War of Independence in the 18th century, that the populace began to embrace a certain Sinterklaas from the Dutch tradition of Saint Nicholas, doubtless because it wasn’t British. [How's that for holding a grudge?]

 

In 1810 the New York Historical Society held a dinner in honour of Saint Nicholas, and twelve years later Clement Moore, drawing on Norse and Germanic folklore, wrote a poem A Visit from St Nicholas which was subsequently published as The Night Before Christmas.

 

Thus Santa Claus came into his own, wearing the vestiges of Father Christmas and Jul. Even the reindeer and sled mentioned in the poem came from the Sámi people of Lapland, who the Norse peoples to the south of them firmly believed were ‘magicians’.

The Coca-Cola Company? Bah humbug! Late to the party.  Father Christmas, even Santa Claus, were wearing red before it showed up with its non-alcoholic beverage. But it had, and still has if its vivid red pantechnicon is anything to go by, damned good copywriters.

 

Which finally brings me to NORAD. Yes, the North American Aerospace Defence Command based in Colorado Springs. 

 

In 1955 Sears Roebuck & Company, also based in Colorado Springs, placed an advertisement in the press inviting children to phone Santa. Except the phone number was misprinted. Guess who was inundated with phone calls? CONAD – the Continental Air Defence Command and forerunner of NORAD. 

 

Despite being in the grips of the Cold War with personnel supposedly watching for in-coming missiles from you-know-where, the Defence Command put diplomacy to the fore and gave radar updates to children on the progress of Santa from the North Pole.

And thanks to the late Colonel Harry Shoup, Director of Operations at the time, it still does. Check on Santa’s progress at https://www.noradsanta.org/ Arrive before Rudolph gathers the other reindeer, and visit the Elf Village where there are activities and games to keep your little ones enthralled. Or you. [Go on, you know you want to.]

So, wherever you are, and whatever spirit of Nature you believe in, be sure to eat, drink and make merry this festive season. It's a Tradition.

 

 ~~~~~

With grateful thanks to History Today, Time-Travel Britain, Museum of UnNatural Mystery, various Wikipedia pages, and NORAD, for their assistance in producing this tongue-firmly-in-cheek blogpost.

Of Apples, History and Annoying Utility Companies.

A single morning's crop. Image by (c) Linda Acaster

 

It was a busy month, to say the least, not helped by British Gas arbitrarily deciding to change the household billing system and then having the temerity to advise me – three times – that it had been corrected. Can you tell I’m getting ready to hit social media??

October also means we have been inundated with apples. We are lucky to have inherited four gnarled mid-sized trees, dating from at least the early 1900s. I’m not sure of their variety but they could be local, Hornsea Herring which originated in 1780 to cope with the coastal climate. They are dual purpose, an eater-baker, but modern apples have been bred to be sweeter than in 1780, so its only an occasional year when they can be eaten from the tree.

We were given a type of Red Delicious eater which we’ve kept stunted so as to pick without the need for steps and a long-handled brush (!!), and helpfully the two apple stocks tend to glut alternate years. Having frozen plenty, we are now eating the last of the Red Delicious. I did try to store them whole one year, and just about lost the lot, so it is to the freezer they now go.

I hate wasting what nature offers for free, hence the header image. It went with a short article written for a publication on Medium – Deliver Me Your Bruised And Your Broken – as a response to a news article on food waste. The publication is usually behind a paywall, but my article carries a ‘friend’ link so as to be read by non-subscribers. It may give you a smile, or turn your indignation up a notch.

My own Medium publication – Escape Into History – now has all my previously written history articles embedded, and I’m adding new ones as I write them. These are behind a paywall.

Over on Substack, my Portals to the Past publication remains free to read, and subscribers get the weekly history article – yes, weekly (what was I thinking??) – delivered to their inboxes. I’ve acquired 37 subscribers in a month, which may not sound much but I find startling, considering I’m still learning the intricacies of the platform.

No mention of my writing fiction, you’ll notice, but that might change in the coming months. Substack has a contingent writing serialized fiction. Shall we say, I’m considering joining them.

More next month, or the end of this month, if I get my act together.

Introducing New Newsletter “Portals to the Past”

 

It’s been a rare couple of months. First I inaugurate a History themed publication on the digital platform, Medium, and now I set up a Newsletter on Substack. Is it too much – or perhaps a dearth – of sunshine? Haven’t I enough filling my days? After all, there is such a thing as overcommitment. But which creative ever owns up to that?

 

The newsletter came about after I attended a Zoom talk by Substack, which was intriguing enough for me to explore the platform. Rather like Medium, it is a platform where subscribers – authors and readers – interact, mostly under publication banners, much as I’m building on Medium. The added bonus for subscribers to individual publications is that full posts are delivered as an email to their Inboxes.

Paying Subscribers? Much of the content is free, some behind personal author-paywalls – there are some very big hitters on Substack, from every career and walk of life.

My original intention was to use Substack for my fiction and keep Medium for non-fiction. But, while I worked out how to initiate this, I realised a writer can carry more than one ‘newsletter’.

The sharp-eyed may recognise the banner header image. It is part of the Ring of Brodgar standing stone circle of Orkney, a different aspect of the banner header to Escape Into History. It was chosen deliberately because I intend to use the same, or some of the same, history posts to reach a different audience.

At least, that’s the plan. 

Substack offers automated promotional images for posts for a range of media. The square one to the right is handy for use on Facebook and X/Twit. Taller versions are offered for Pinterest and TikTok.

But that's enough. As ever, the learning curve is steep – alas, it goes with the territory.

If you are curious enough to have a look, here's the link:      https://lindaacaster.substack.com/     

If not, see you next month.           

Woodhenge - in the Stonehenge Sacred Landscape

20th century concrete pillars at Woodhenge. White, light blue, & red tops showing. Image by (c) Linda Acaster

What happened to August? In fact, where’s September disappearing to?

Normally regarded as ‘high summer’ in the UK, in late August Summer finally arrived. Friends visited, the vegetable and flower beds went into true English Country Garden mode (and with them the weeds), and we did a bit of travelling – back to Wiltshire.

This time we visited Woodhenge and Durrington Walls, both longstanding on my must-see list. They proved as fascinating as I’d hoped, as much because of the little that is known against what has been gleaned from recent archaeology. Both are within the World Heritage Site of the Stonehenge Sacred Landscape, and yes, we went to Stonehenge, too – in thick drizzle.

Woodhenge is the least known and most enigmatic of the three. It was discovered only in 1925 when early aerial photography showed rings of concentric darker spots in the dry vegetation not noticeable at ground level. Maud Cunningham, born 1869 and a pioneering archaeologist in the area, undertook the first investigation. She and her husband promptly bought the site to preserve it, in turn giving it to the nation.

Woodhenge, as it became known, is 160ft (50m) in diameter, though not quite a true circle. Within its outer bank and inner ditch (the henge) were found six rings of post holes which would have supported individual oak timber uprights. Different rings had posts of different thicknesses. At its centre was found the grave of a child about three years old.

Today, knee-high concrete pillars, in equivalent thicknesses, stand in place of the long-decayed oak posts, their tops painted in different hues for ease of visitor recognition. It gives the site a somewhat questioning appearance.

Despite of a corresponding age - 2500BC - to the raising of the first sarsen stones at Stonehenge a mere two miles distant, the site was no blueprint test. Were the posts open to the elements? Were the post heights uniform or as irregular as their diameters? Did they support wooden lintels? Did they support a massive roof, long gone? The questions seem endless. What’s more, it wasn’t the only one in the area, just the largest. Or largest found so far.

One thing is certain, it wasn’t a giant building providing shared accommodation. Durrington Walls close by was the contemporary place of settlement. Its enormous bank and inner ditch, most of which remain visible, was some 1500ft (470m) in diameter, making it, in modern classification terms, a super-henge.

More on Durrington Walls in a future blog.