I’m writing this a week before Thanksgiving, but you will be reading it when Thanksgiving is over and we’re into December. My point is, it’s hard to know what tense to use when writing in the now but being read in the future. Oh Bother, as Winnie the Pooh would say. I love quoting Pooh and his friends, as you’ve probably noticed if you’ve read one or more of my columns.
One time I used a quote from The House at Pooh Corner in a graduate English course I took at Miami of Ohio. I was the only undergraduate taking the course, and I had no idea it was a graduate course when I signed up for it. We met in the department’s library around a long table, just nine of us plus the professor who happened to be Dean of the English Department. Among the other students were 1) an aging hippie; 2) a guy with hair down to his shoulders (this was 1961 when most guys wore crewcuts); 3) a guy in a tweed jacket with suede elbow patches and a pipe in his mouth. I forget what the others looked like, I was so overcome with the thought of how I ever muddled into such an auspicious group.
I studied more for that course over the semester than all my other classes combined, I was so scared. For part of the final exam, we were to find a quotation from a literary source that illustrated some now-forgotten writing technique. As we went around the table, each student tried to out-do the others (at least so it seemed to me) with scholarly quotes from obscure sources. I was the last to be called upon and, feeling totally inadequate and shaky, I quoted Winnie the Pooh. The professor beamed and said I had nailed it. I got an A. I think the moral of that story is, if in doubt, you can’t go wrong quoting Pooh.
Getting back to Thanksgiving (see first paragraph, if you’ve already forgotten) it’s a double holiday at our house since we also celebrate Christmas then with our non-California kids. When California claimed three of our offspring plus our two youngest grandchildren, Bing and I would spend Christmas in Los Angeles, but hosted the other two-thirds of the clan on Thanksgiving, then had Christmas the next day. So I have had to scramble to get the house decorated for Christmas long before the actual holiday.
This year I had a slow start because of the bronchitis I contracted but promised not to write about anymore, so forget I mentioned it. Suffice it to say, I would hang one ornament on the tree, then go sit down for 10 minutes to catch my breath. Seamus sat right by my side, worried I might keel over and then who would give him treats? However, he didn’t help much when he bumped into the tree and knocked the angel off her perch to land face down on the floor. I have to climb up on a little step-ladder to put her in place, and having to do it twice wasn’t much fun.
Aside from the perils of putting the angel in place (twice), hanging the ornaments is always such a nostalgic time for me. Each one (and we have thousands . . . well, maybe hundreds) brings back a special memory of its history. There are the hand-made paper offerings from the children when they were four or five years old. Not too many have survived all these years, so I treasure the ones I have. There are five nests, each with a tiny bird in it that my friend, Judy K. made for each member of our bridge club many eons ago, and they remind me of all the fun times our group had. We started when our kids were in diapers (even some yet to be born) and continued until they were grown and had made us grandmothers.
Some of the ornaments belonged to my parents and grandparents. Some are from Ireland, calling up memories of long-ago ancestors.
I’ll include here a picture of one of my favorites, because, for one thing, it ties together the two themes I seem to have stumbled upon in this column. When I start a column, I’m never sure where I’ll end up, so to be able to tie together the stuff I’ve rambled on about is a real accomplishment!
And so I give you Winnie the Pooh reading to Piglet and Tigger.
