In the United States today, we have a very expansive view of what constitutes Christmas celebrations. We don’t find it at all unusual to see an inflatable Santa Claus next to a manger scene. The wisemen are as likely to be following neon snowflakes as yonder star. This combination of religious and secular is something that we just accept without a whole lot of thought. But it wasn’t always the case. In colonial America Christmas was celebrated in a mostly religious fashion when it was celebrated at all.
Colonial New England
Colonial New England was settled in large part by Puritans. They even extended their influence to areas that they did not initially settle. They went so far as to banish, and in some cases even execute people who did not agree with them. They were determined to create a society dominated by Puritan beliefs.
The Puritans did not favor Christmas celebration; they believed there was no scriptural basis for acknowledging Christmas beyond doing so in prayer. In 1621 Governor William Bradford of Plymouth Colony criticized some of the settlers who chose to take the day off from work because as Puritans he felt that they could best serve God by being productive and orderly.
The celebration of Christmas was outlawed in most of New England. Calvinist Puritans and some other protestants abhorred the entire celebration and likened it to pagan rituals and “Popish” observances. In 1659, the General Court of Massachusetts forbade, under the fine of five shillings per offense, the observance “of any such day as Christmas or the like, either by forebearing of labour, feasting, or any such way.” The Assembly of Connecticut, in the same period, prohibited the reading of the Book of Common Prayer, the keeping of Christmas and saints’ days, the making of mince pies, the playing of cards, or performing on any musical instruments. These statutes remained in force until they were repealed early in the nineteenth century.
It is important to note that Puritan hostility to Christmas was not because they did not believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ. They objected to the way the holiday was being celebrated. They disliked the excesses of Yuletide festivities in England. Christmas had become a time for the working class to drink, gamble, and party. The Puritans would not tolerate any sign of disorder and believed that it was an affront to God.
They tried to protest Christmas revelries while still living in England but had little impact. Once they moved to the New World where they were able to exert control, they would not condone any form of excess. Except, perhaps, an excess of piety and self-righteousness.
Any form of Christmas observance that did occur took the shape of fasting, prayer, and religious service. Even the famous New England cleric Increase Mather loathed Christmas and believed the holiday was derived from the excesses of the pagan Roman holiday Saturnalia. We shouldn’t think that Mather was completely humorless; he once called alcohol. “a good creature of God “. Drinking wasn’t bad, but like all things it must be done in moderation with complete self-control. That’s probably good advice for everyone, whether they’re a Puritan or not.
Middle Atlantic Colonies
Many of the traditions that we now consider part of the American Christmas have their origins in the middle Atlantic colonies, most notably in Pennsylvania. Many of these were brought by settlers of German heritage as well as some traditions brought by the Scots and the Dutch.
In Pennsylvania there were two quite different Christmas traditions, one of the protestant groups and another of the Quakers. They differed considerably in their approach to Christmas.
Some colonists celebrated Christmas by importing English customs such as drinking, feasting, mumming and wassailing. Mumming involved wearing masks and costumes and going door-to-door singing carols or performing short plays in exchange for food or drink. Wassailing was a tradition where people would go from house to house singing carols and drinking toasts to the health of their neighbors. Some non-Puritan New Englanders also continued these traditions but kept them private to avoid attracting the attention of the Puritan officials.
Many of the Christmas traditions that we think of as being a quintessentially American are derived from the settlers of German descent who were known as the Pennsylvania Dutch. These include celebration of the advent season, the decoration of the Christmas tree, singing of Christmas carols, the display of nativity scenes, and the exchange of gifts on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. We can’t imagine Christmas without these things, but we seldom remember that it was our German American ancestors who gave us these wonderful traditions.
To me the most interesting and probably most significant tradition passed on by the Pennsylvania Dutch was what led to our current concept of Santa Claus. During the colonial period, they had the tradition of Beltznickle. He is depicted as a man wearing furs and a mask and having a long tongue. He’s usually shown as being very ragged and wearing dirty clothes. He had a pocketful of cakes, candies and nuts for good children, but he also carried a switch or a whip with which to beat naughty children. Beltznickle took the naughty and nice list very seriously.
He was a long way from Clement Clark Moore’s jolly old elf in ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas and the jovial Santa Claus that we know today from the original Coca-Cola ads of 1930.
Quakers had a much different approach to Christmas. They did not celebrate it at all. It is not that they were opposed to Christmas as were the Puritans. It’s just that they did not celebrate any holidays, Easter, birthdays or any other holidays. They had no set liturgical calendar, so they did not have an advent, or an Easter season or any other religious holiday. There is no central Quaker authority to set beliefs or doctrines. Each Quaker is free to decide how to observe religious traditions. They focus on spiritual reflection and social justice.
Non-Quakers did not always understand their religious beliefs or practices. Here is an example of how Quaker practices were seen by outsiders. Swedish naturalist Peter Kalm visited Philadelphia in 1747 and recorded the following observation in his diary: Christmas Day. . . .The Quakers did not regard this day any more remarkable than other days. Stores were open, and anyone might sell or purchase what he wanted. . . .There was no more baking of bread for the Christmas festival than for other days; and no Christmas porridge on Christmas Eve! One did not seem to know what it meant to wish anyone a merry Christmas. . . at first the Presbyterians did not care much for celebrating Christmas, but when they saw most of their members going to the English church on that day, they also started to have services. Apparently, Presbyterians were much quicker to adopt popular practices then were the Quakers.
Southern Colonies
Celebration of Christmas was similar throughout all of the southern colonies. We’ll consider Colonial Williamsburg as a proxy for the rest of the southern colonial region. This is largely because there is more information available about Williamsburg than other areas and because it represented what was the majority of practices at the time. The major religion of the southern colonies was Church of England and they followed those practices.
Religious services were a central part of their celebration. The majority of the religious observances were during the advent season, the four weeks leading up to Christmas which were a period of reflection on the significance of the coming of Christ. The southern colonies usually held Christmas Eve services although occasionally Christmas Day services were held. Christmas Day was considered a day of celebration and family feasting.
It should be noted that the Christmas celebration was only for the white population. If the enslaved people received a holiday for Christmas, it was only because the weather was too bad to work in the fields. And of course, the house slaves were expected to attend to all the needs of the Christmas celebration.
Margie and I decided to visit Colonial Williamsburg in December of 2019, the period we refer to as BC (before COVID). We’ve always had a special affinity for Williamsburg because that’s where we spent our honeymoon 52 years ago. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, perhaps a large inflatable George Washington holding a Christmas wreath. But it was much more understated than what I had anticipated.
According to our tour guide, even those low-key decorations were probably more than would have been evident in the colonial era. People typically decorated their homes on the day before Christmas and removed the decorations the day after Christmas. Decorations were usually limited to candles in the window and pine boughs on the tables and mantle pieces. Pine boughs were used to decorate the church in what was known as “sticking the church”.
At Colonial Williamsburg we saw many displays that included fresh fruits and pineapples. Our tour guide told us that those were too precious to actually have been used as decorations and might have been included as part of a table display to be consumed during the Christmas feast. Some people would even rent a pineapple to display on their table as a sign of their wealth.
The first Christmas tree did not make its appearance in Williamsburg until 1848.
The southern colonists were very social people. They enjoyed wassailing as did the people of the mid Atlantic colonies. They also considered Christmas as a time for feasting, dancing, and celebrations. Men of the upper class celebrated Christmas with fox hunts and other outdoor activities. Men of the working classes frequently celebrated Christmas with shooting matches and drinking parties. Women, of course, were expected to stay at home and prepare the meals. Christmas Balls were a common practice among the upper class of the southern colonies. They were often elaborate and included large banquets with musicians, dancing and occasionally masquerades.
Present exchange was not standard practice in the southern colonies. However, it was common to give children small presents of nuts, fruit, candy, and small toys. Adults generally did not exchange presents.
Virginian Phillip Fithians writing in his journal in 1773 gave the following description of a gather just before Christmas: When it grew to dark to dance. . . . we conversed til half after six; Nothing is now to be heard of in conversation, but the Balls, the Fox-hunts, the fine entertainments, and the good fellowship, which are to be exhibited at the approaching Christmas.
Life in colonial America could be hard, but that did not stop them from having a joyous Christmas celebration.
Margie and I just returned from 10 days in Florida. We combined my SAR conference with a few days of vacation. We got to spend the vacation days with our grandson (and his parents, of course).
We took him for a day at Disney World and a day at Universal Studios. He had a great time and we enjoyed watching him have fun. But for us old folks, it was extremely hot. It was also a lot of walking. We consider ourselves doing well if we get in a mile and a half for a daily walk. At Disney we covered over 7 miles, which left us drained. For the next day at Universal we drafted his parents to go with us so they could do some of the high-speed keeping up with an active 11 year old. We only covered about four miles at Universal but that’s still more than our average.
There was one thing that caused us to tire out more than we should have. That’s the lack of any place to sit in either park. They must think all seniors will be in wheelchairs. What few benches we found were in the direct sun or were occupied. Any shaded place to sit almost inevitably required purchase of food or drink.
Neither Disney nor Universal can be considered senior friendly.
“Disney! Universal! If you want older folks to continue bringing their grandchildren to your parks and spending money, you need to be sensitive to our needs. We need some place to sit! In the shade! It’s the least you can do in return for our spending money at your parks.”
And that is my grumpy opinion!
Full disclosure: the bench shown above is not in either park…But Margie found it!
Decisions, Decisions Margie and I got married in June of 1971. Shortly thereafter she received a check for her vested portion of retirement for two years of teaching. So, what should we do? Perhaps we should open a savings account. Or maybe, we could invest it.
Finally, starting a pattern that happily follows us through more than 50 years of marriage, we decided to take a trip. Since there was no internet, we went to a travel agent. We had to find a trip that would fit into the next seven weeks before the fall semester started. We were able to find a trip to the British Isles. It was high on Margie’s list because she’s always been fascinated with Stonehenge.
It was a long flight, though more comfortable than the flights now because the seats were larger and had more legroom. But still, that’s when we discovered Margie suffers significant west to east jet lag. Even now, we never plan anything for the first day of a trip to Europe. The transatlantic flights always seem to leave in the evening or early night. I suppose they think everyone will sleep on the way over. Since neither of us can sleep on the airplane, it’s directly to the hotel room for us.
England Swings (like a pendulum do) Growing up in the 1960s we were heavily influenced by the British invasion beginning with The Beatles first US hit “I want To Hold Your Hand” in 1964. We couldn’t get enough of all things British, the music, the fashions, the haircuts and the slang. Mod was what the style was called, and Carnaby Street was the place to find it.
What a major disappointment! What had been the iconic epicenter of swinging London in the 1960s had become a tawdry, shabby looking street of overpriced gift stores and strung-out people by the 1970s. But it was still fun and there was more yet to see.
Fortunately, Carnaby St. wasn’t the only thing in London. Trafalgar Square, with the Nelson Monument, was a busy and fascinating place. We loved the Albert and Victoria Museum and the British Museum. I was especially fascinated with the Egyptian displays at the British Museum.
For me, a highlight of our visit to London was the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. While we were there, we got to see a rare occurrence. The Coldstream Guards (think the big bear skin hats) were being deployed to Northern Ireland and the Royal Marines were taking over responsibility for guarding the palace.
A few random thoughts on London: I was struck at how unimposing 10 Downing Street is compared to the White House. It’s just a townhouse in the middle of the block with the door right on the street. Although, I suppose the appropriate comparison is to Buckingham Palace. We were surprised to learn that Big Ben is not the name of the large clock tower, that’s the Westminster Tower. Big Ben is the name of the bell that chimes the hours. The London tube (subway) was easy to use, as were the buses. It wasn’t until several years later when we visited Paris that I realized the ease of use was because the schedules were printed in English. I think it’s just part of our natural American inclination that everyone should speak English.
Touching History We planned our trip to Stonehenge. It’s interesting that at the time there were no scheduled tours from London to Stonehenge. We had to arrange for a train trip to Salisbury, the nearest town. We bought our ticket on a standard English train. We had a first class ticket which gave us a private compartment. It was what we would now think of as the “Harry Potter train”. But in those pre-Potter days we thought of it as the “Murder on the Orient Express” train. I kept waiting for Hercule Poirot to show up in our compartment.
When we arrived at Salisbury we stopped at a shop for tea and biscuits. We asked how to get to Stonehenge. They told us to catch a local bus. There was a bus route with a stop that was about 100 or so yards from Stonehenge.
Surprisingly, there was no visitor center or gift shop at Stonehenge. There was a small pull-off where a few cars could park, but mostly it was just an open area. We walked from the bus stop to Stonehenge and were able to walk right up to the monument. We could walk around and touch the individual stones and we could have climbed on them had we desired. It’s amazing to think that we were able to be right in the middle of it since now the whole area is cordoned off so you can’t approach it and must view it from a distance.
We were lucky to go there at a time when it was still approachable. I have always marveled that preindustrial people were able to move and manipulate these massive stones. (Perhaps aliens really were involved.)
Touring the Rest of England After more than 50 years it’s hard for me to remember the exact itinerary of the remainder of our tour in England. There are a few things that come to mind. Every village has a church, and they are all old, and when we were on a tour bus it seemed like we visited every one of them. It was a bit too much for us 20-somethings.
We stopped at a pub one evening, I don’t remember where or what we ate but I do remember what we had to drink. I ordered an English beer; I was a little hesitant since they come warm. I discovered they brew them to be drunk warm, and it was good. But what isn’t made to be drunk warm is Coca-Cola. Margie ordered a coke, and they brought her a glass, warm and right out of the bottle. She asked for some ice and the bartender gave her that look like, “Bloody Yanks,” and then disappeared into the back with the glass. He came back after what must have been 10 minutes with the glass in hand and a single cube of ice floating in it. He set the glass down with a self-satisfied look and pointed to it as if to say, “Here’s your bloody ice.”
I was surprised at how extensive the Roman occupation of Britain was. I was equally surprised how much of their influence remains. The Romans brought road building, city planning and many of the crops that were staples in England through the Middle Ages. They also introduced the Christian religion. Even the word Britain is of Roman origin.
One last thought about England before we head north to Scotland. We were touring through an area called the Lake District; a beautiful area that, according to our bus driver, was the honeymoon district of England. We stopped in a small village that he said was the most fertile village in England. And I think he was telling the truth; I have never seen so many baby buggies in one place. Maybe there’s something in the water.
In our Changing world, one of the best parts of being a Grumpy Old Doc is wonderful memories!
Will We Find Each Other? Margie and I hadn’t been together since February when I left for a 13-month unaccompanied tour with the Marine Corps in Okinawa. I took leave at Christmas time 1975 and Margie flew from Charleston, WV to Tokyo to meet me for the holidays. I went to the airport to meet her only to discover that her flight had been cancelled. Remember, there were no cell phones, e-mail, or texts. The airline didn’t know if she had been rescheduled or not or when she might arrive. After waiting through the last flight of the day, I decided to come back for the first morning flight.
I arrived at the airport the next morning to wait for the San Francisco flight. The Tokyo airport, like everything else in Japan, was very crowded. I was wondering how I would find Margie in that crowd, but it turned out not to be a problem. She was six feet tall and was literally head and shoulders above everyone else in the arrival area. I could see her from across the terminal.
Transportation In Japan Fortunately, I had the hotel’s name written in Japanese on a piece of paper. I’m not sure we would have made it to the hotel had I not been able to show that paper to the cab driver. It was difficult to find a driver who spoke English. The cab ride to the hotel was fascinating; as we were absorbing the sights, the driver pointed to a McDonalds, then newly arrived in Japan, smiled, and said, “Big Mac-San.”
When we arrived at the hotel, we were greeted by the doorman who was wearing a top hat, white gloves, and a morning coat. He opened the door and smiled and said “Hi ya Joe”. That was the only thing he ever said to us in English the whole time we were there. He was about the right age to have been a young boy during the American occupation right after World War II. I suspect that’s where he learned that phrase and it was probably the only English he knew. But I don’t even know that much Japanese.
Japanese public transportation was also quite an experience. There’s no lining up to get on or off buses or trains. As soon as the doors open everyone rushes in or out. Margie is always trying to be polite and to let other people go ahead. I tried to tell her we would never get on if she kept deferring to everyone else. When the doors of the train opened, I got behind her and just pushed her on board.
I found this behavior by the Japanese to be strange given what I thought was excessive politeness about everything else and every other encounter we had in Japan. We even had a salesclerk apologize to us because we thought the price was too high on something we were considering. The only thing that I can think of is that public transportation was not a one-to-one personal encounter but was more of a group event and didn’t require the same degree of civility.
An Unusual Photo Op There was one interesting thing about being so tall in Japan. We were walking together when a Japanese man came up to us with his camera, pointed to it, and said something. I thought he was asking us to take his picture. But he quickly turned around handed his camera to a friend and then, stood between us to have his picture taken with the big, tall Americans; his friend followed suite. It’s nice to think that our pictures are somewhere in a Japanese family’s photo album.
Christmas, Japanese Style Christmas is a big deal in Japan, but it has no religious connotations. It is strictly a commercial holiday. Neon snowflakes and candy canes and Santa Clauses were everywhere. Needless to say, we did a little Christmas shopping while we were there.
This was the most unique Christmas Eve we have ever spent. We had dinner in a French restaurant in a Japanese hotel. After that we went to a movie in a Japanese theater. We saw the Steven Spielberg film “Jaws”. It was in English with Japanese subtitles. They don’t have popcorn in Japanese movie theaters (at least they didn’t then). We had Tangerines and sushi rolls.
On To Hong Kong! From Tokyo we flew to Hong Kong. We stayed in a little more upscale hotel than I had on my first trip; on my second trip I stayed on board ship. I was determined that our reunion trip was going to be first class and we stayed at the Hong Kong Hilton. It was a beautiful place and had a Rolls Royce fleet parked in front. Of course, they weren’t there for our use. Apparently, a lot of very wealthy people stay there.
Shop ‘Till You Drop Hong Kong was literally a shopper’s paradise. You could go bankrupt saving money! The exchange rate was about six Hong Kong dollars to one U.S. dollar. It seemed to us that things were really cheap; we just divided the price by six. You bargained for everything, even a pack of gum. We bought a lot of gifts and souvenirs and thoroughly enjoyed this new (to us) style of shopping.
Rug Shop, Lower Right Hand Corner.
Finally, a potential major purchase caught our fancy. While window shopping at a carpet store, we noticed one of the most beautiful rugs we had ever seen and maybe the most beautiful we will ever see. It was a deep crimson hand-woven rug known as the five-dragon rug. There was a large dragon in the center and a smaller dragon in each corner. We stood there looking at it and trying to figure how we could fit it into our living room. The price on it said $5000. Thinking it was Hong Kong dollars, we decided if shipping wasn’t too much, we should just go for it. We went in and asked the clerk exactly how much the price was in U.S. dollars to start the bargaining. He looked back at me and said “$5000 US, firm”. (Just to put it in perspective, my annual salary at the time was $9500.) So, of course you know there is no five-dragon rug in our living room, although I still regret not having figured out some way to make it work.
Eating Out And A Lesson Not Learned! Despite my experience with bitter melon and pigeon, we decided to try for a real Chinese dinner. (I can be a slow learner.) We were advised to look for a restaurant where there were few or no westerners in the dining room and where the women were playing mahjong.
We found our restaurant and it looked good. Most of the restaurants where we had eaten served ala carte where we ordered dishes individually and they were served in small bowls that we shared. The menu had very little English and none of the typical Chinese restaurant dish names that we recognized. We found out much later that such staples of western Chinese restaurants as Chop Suey and General Tso’s Chicken were not actually of Chinese origin. Our most popular “Chinese” dishes would be a mystery in China.
There was one waiter who spoke limited English. I would point to something, and he would explain it to us as best he could, and we would decide whether or not to order it. We ordered a number of dishes expecting they would all come in small bowls that we would share.
We should have been suspicious when the waiter came and set up a folding table beside us. He then proceeded to load the table up with several large serving bowls. It seems this restaurant served family style.
Each bowl held enough food for somewhere between four and six people and we had seven bowls. As if having all this food on a table beside us wasn’t enough, the staff then lined up behind the table to watch the big Americans eat. Well, we gave it our best effort, but we couldn’t get through even a small amount. We took a little sampling from each and left most of it. (We both hoped that someone would be able to use the leftovers.) We had several more days in Hong Kong but never ventured into another Chinese restaurant.
A Trip Ending Too Soon Reluctantly, we parted in Hong Kong. Margie flew back to West Virginia and her classroom. Fortunately, her return trip was less eventful than coming over. I headed back to Okinawa for the rest of my tour. We had a wonderful two weeks and would be together again in three months. We are both thankful we never had to be apart that long again.
We hope you also have wonderful memories of bygone trips and adventures. And, there’s more yet to do!
A few years ago, Margie and I used to love watching Diners, Drive Inns and Dives on the Food Network. The host Guy Fieri would travel around the country, supposedly in his vintage Camaro convertible, visiting local restaurants, dinners, and bar and grills, in search of unique experiences. We especially liked to watch it when we were getting ready to take a trip and we were looking for places that we might want to visit.
Our daughter and her family live just outside of Atlanta and on one show Guy visited a place there called the Vortex. After watching the show, we decided we had to go there. It looked like one of the most interesting places we’d seen in this series. Of course, that doesn’t count that West Virginia gem, Hillbilly Hot Dogs that was featured in another episode of the show. (More on it in another post.)
Even before you walk through the door you know you’re in for a unique experience. You enter the Vortex through the gaping jaws of hell, and that’s just the beginning. The interior is crammed with more unusual things than you could ever see in a single visit. There are signs, posters, and artifacts of all kinds, including full-sized motorcycles attached to the walls and suspended from the ceiling. At one point we sat under a suspended motorcycle, and I was wondering just how securely it was fastened to those roof beams.
This may be the only restaurant I have ever been to where they present you with two pages of “house rules” before you get the menu. They called it Stuff You Really Need to Know. Among the many things on their list are the topics: Read Our Menu, Idiot Free Zone, No Whining, and Tip Or Die. Each of them has a paragraph long description that goes with it. They’re written in a humorous style, but I think there is absolute seriousness that underlies them. Check it out on their website www.thevortexatl.com, because even if you never go there, it’s worth reading this list.
On our first visit (yes, we’ve been several times) we decided to sit at the bar. The first time we visit a new place we often like to sit at the bar and talk to the bartender and get an overall feel for the restaurant and its environment.
Our bartender was a young gal probably in her mid-20s. She had spiky hair, multiple tattoos, and very dramatic makeup. But most dramatic was the fact that she was wearing a tank top which showed off her sculpted biceps and her full sleeve arm tattoos. She came up to take our order, Margie ordered a salad, and I ordered a burger with fries because that’s one of the things they’re known for.
Just as the waitress was getting ready to leave with our order Margie said, “I’d like the dressing to be fat free”. The waitress stopped in her tracks. She turned around, walked up to Margie, put her hands on the bar, leaned forward, and said, “This is the Vortex, we don’t do fat free!” Margie was intimidated and told her that regular dressing would be fine. I was also intimidated and thought, just to be safe, I should order a side of grease to dip my fries in.
After we finished eating the bartender who let us know that the Vortex was too tough for fat free, came by and offered Margie a drink called The Firefly, which was a tea-based drink with grapefruit vodka and a girly flavor. The guy sitting beside us started to laugh. I couldn’t reconcile “We don’t do fat free” with the frou frou Firefly. Apparently though, my beer was a manly enough order.
On our next visit I decided to be daring and try an appetizer that I had never heard of but have since seen in a few other places. That is the nacho tots mentioned in the title of this post. Imagine your standard nacho chip order but with tater tots instead of tortilla chips. The tots are roasted first then covered with melted cheese, jalapenos, onions and ground chorizo or beef and then given a quick spin under the broiler. When they first come out and they’re still hot they’re really good but when they start to get cold, not so much. I asked our waitress if these were popular and she said, ”Oh yes, drunk people really like them.”
They are justifiably well known for their burgers, but one group of burgers needs special mention. These are the coronary bypass burgers. They begin with the single coronary bypass which can be ordered anytime and then they progress through the double, triple and quadruple which can only be ordered between 2:00 o’clock and 5:00 o’clock PM with no takeouts and no substitutions. They recommend you order in advance. I’m not going to go over the details of all four, but I will summarize the quadruple coronary bypass burger.
This may be the biggest monster of a burger I have ever seen, and it is hugely stacked up. First, I’m going to tell you about the buns and there are four buns, a top and bottom bun and two middle buns. Each “bun” is a full grilled patty melt on Texas toast. In between these buns are 32 ounces of grilled sirloin patties, 28 slices of cheese, 27 strips of bacon, four fried eggs, grilled onions, relish, and mayonnaise served with 20 ounces of French fries and tater tots topped with melted cheese and bacon bits. The total calorie count for this meal is estimated to be in excess of 9600 calories.
If this sounds like something you might want to give a try, you should investigate their Super Stack Challenge. In this challenge you eat the entire quadruple coronary bypass burger and all of its sides together with two 32 oz soft drinks. If you want to take the challenge, they request that you call ahead. Oh, and you have to do it in 30 minutes. Apparently, a number of people have tried and failed because they also give you a bucket in case you need to throw up during the challenge.
So, what do you get if you pass the challenge? Of course, you’re going to get a T-shirt, you get a T-shirt for everything, and you get the burger for free. Your name and photo will appear on their wall and on their social media pages but that seems to be about it. They don’t cover any of your subsequent visits to the cardiologist.
Apparently, only two people have ever completed the challenge. That’s two more than I would have ever thought could possibly have done it. If you decide that’s something you’re up for, let me know and I’ll do my best to try and talk you into ordering something not as insane. But, if you decide to go for it, make sure the bucket is close by.
I’ve never been a big beach fan. I don’t enjoy laying on the beach and I’ve never seen the fascination with sunbathing. It might have something to do with the two severe sunburns that I had as a boy. My back and chest were covered with painful blisters, and I tried to sleep sitting up on a stool so I wouldn’t touch anything. I started using SPF 50 when it first was introduced and was as thick as grease. Every particle of sand I came in contact with stuck to me until I looked like a large sand monster. It had to be scrubbed off with a washcloth and I could still feel the residue. There have been improvements in sunscreen, but not enough to make me want to lay on the beach.
Even when we were stationed in Hawaii, I never spent much time on the beach. The beach was something you crossed so that you could boogie board in the waves or swim out to scuba dive. When we had friends come to visit from the mainland who wanted to go to the beach, I made sure to find the nearest shade and make a beeline for it.
As I get older though, I have found a new appreciation for the beach. I still don’t lay on the beach, and I still don’t like the hot sun. Now we tend to take our beach vacations in the winter when it’s cooler and the sun is not nearly as intense.
I enjoy walking on the beach now, just above the run up of the waves. I watch the water run in rivulets across the sand and try to avoid getting my shoes wet. In the winter the beach is less crowded and much cleaner, an altogether more pleasant environment.
I carry binoculars to watch the birds and hopefully see some dolphins offshore. But one of my real pleasures is being able to spot large ships on the horizon. I’ve always had a great fascination with ships and just enjoy watching them through the binoculars and trying to imagine where they might be going and what they might be carrying on board.
I enjoy watching the water in constant motion. It seems to me to possess both calmness and a loosely contained power waiting to break havoc on the shore. The very restlessness of the waves brings a peaceful sensation to me. It is a feeling matched only by a cascading mountain stream.
The ocean is an enigma. It is believed to be the original source of life. But, in an instant, it can turn deadly and destructive, destroying lives and property. It can transition from tranquility to fury and back to tranquility almost instantly leaving you to wonder how such devastation could occur in a few moments time.
Walking on the beach also gives me time to think about things I might want to write about and to organize them in my head before I sit down to put them on paper (actually, on the keyboard). When I’m walking on the beach, I don’t feel the call of the many other things I think I should be doing. It’s not a place for self-imposed schedules and deadlines. The lack of distraction does wonders for my concentration.
I’m sure everyone has their own place to find their zin. For me, it’s the beach in the winter.
The first time I left the United States I was 21 years old and on my way to Vietnam. In one of those little ironies of life, I would visit Hong Kong three times before I ever made it to New York City. Growing up in West Virginia, my family thought a trip to Myrtle Beach was the height of travel. It’s still the destination of choice for many West Virginians and I still love the South Carolina low country and fried sea food.
My first trip to Hong Kong was in the spring of 1970. I was serving on the USS Sanctuary in the coastal waters of Vietnam. I had my R&R (Rest & Recreation) trip planned to Australia later in the summer. However, I received orders ending my tour early because I was to report for a training school in San Diego in early June. This meant if I wanted to go on R&R it would have to be soon. The only R&R destination available in my time frame was Hong Kong. I knew next to nothing about Hong Kong. The closest I had come to Chinese culture was chop suey at the New China Restaurant in Charleston.
R&R was basically a five-day vacation that the military gave you when you were serving in the Vietnam area. It was something you looked forward to for the first part of your tour and then you would dream about it for the remainder.
Even flying into Hong Kong was an exciting experience. The old Hong Kong airport was almost in the middle of the city. The flight path carried you down between the buildings. I remember looking out the window of the plane and into the window of an apartment building. There didn’t seem to be enough room for the wings in between the buildings, but somehow the plane landed without incident. That initial look out the window may have been one of the most surprising things that I have experienced.
When we first arrived, we were given the typical military orientation lecture that included warnings about venereal disease with a large map that showed us the areas of Hong Kong we should avoid. Of course, for many of us that meant those were the areas we were going to head to first. They also gave us a list of hotels we could afford without spending all our R&R money.
Hong Kong was like nothing I had ever seen before. I spent the first day wandering around the crowded streets watching the people and trying to sort out the multitude of sights and smells. There was an odd combination of delicious, exotic and downright strange. Street food was everywhere and so were street vendors. The first day I was determined to sample as many different foods as possible. They varied from delicious to inedible. I’m sure that was just me, because the Chinese people seemed to most enjoy the food I couldn’t eat.
I also looked in a lot of shops trying to decide what I should buy. The shop people were friendly and spent a long time answering my often rambling questions. I had been advised to be very careful about negotiating prices. A Chief Petty Officer who was familiar with Hong Kong (his wife was Chinese) told us, “The Chinese people are basically honest. They won’t steal from you, but if you’re a bad negotiator, they are glad to let you pay three times what it’s worth.” In Hong Kong you even bargained over the price of a pack of gum, a skill I never really developed.
I eventually decided I would have a suit made because I had never had a tailor-made suit. I also had some shoes made. I’m sure that because of my poor negotiating skills I paid more than I needed to, but I was happy with the price and that was all that mattered to me. I thought I was pretty fashionable, but looking back I probably could have done better in my selection of material. The shiny shark skin material that looked so cool on Frank Sinatra didn’t do anything for me. The shoes were nice though. I wore a size 14 narrow, and it was nice to have a pair that actually fit.
The second night in Hong Kong as I was leaving the hotel, I ran into an Australian sailor who had been to there many times before. He said he’d show me the “real action” in Hong Kong. As we walked along, he turned down a narrow and dark side street and then into a basement level bar that had a big neon sign that said “Club Red Lips” with a big pair of neon lips underneath it. The place was dark and crowded with a lot of Australian sailors and Chinese women. It smelled of stale beer, cigarettes and sweat. After two beers my new friend turned to me and suggested getting out of there and going someplace where there would be some better action.
We started down the street and as he was ready to turn in to an even darker and narrower alley, I suddenly remembered I had someplace else to be. The “real action” was starting to seem a little too risky to me.
I begged off and headed back to a better lit part of town to have dinner and drinks with other American sailors. I suppose it was something he was accustomed to, but it was a little too much for a West Virginia boy to deal with. It turned out I was not as rowdy as I thought.
Most of the rest of my R&R was spent doing the typical tourist things and riding tourist buses. I didn’t venture down any more dark and narrow side streets. But I really did have a good time.
My next trip to Hong Kong was in May of 1975. By this time, I was in the Marine Corps and was an infantry officer. I was part of a Marine Amphibious Force that was embarked on Navy ships. We had recently completed support of the evacuations of Saigon and Phnom Penh and the recovery of the merchant ship SS Mayaguez. Our ships anchored in the harbor in Hong Kong for liberty call for the sailors and the embarked Marines.
Since I was one of the few officers in our battalion who had been to Hong Kong, I was tasked with briefing the troops on the things they could do there. I spent quite a while going through the ship’s library to find a few things about Hong Kong and then doing my best to remember some of the things that I had done during my previous visit. Of course, there was no internet to check.
I was happy that I had come up with a quite detailed list of sights to see and places to go. I gave my briefing. I told them where they could catch buses and where they could catch the ferry and where there were good places to shop and where there were good places to eat. When I finished, I ask for questions and the first question was, “Is it true that there’s a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Hong Kong?” Yes, it was true.
While I didn’t have any fried chicken in Hong Kong my friend Walt and I decided to be a little adventurous. We went to a “non-tourist” restaurant. Walt ordered pigeon, thinking it would probably be Cornish Game Hen and I ordered beef with bitter melon thinking how bitter can it really be, after all it is melon. Well, Walt’s pigeon was pigeon, and it came complete with head, beak, eyes, and feet. My melon was so bitter I couldn’t eat any of it.
Our stay in Hong Kong lasted four days and then we were back onboard ship to return to our home base in Okinawa. I knew I would be returning to Hong Kong in a few months when Margie joined me for Christmas leave.
I reported on board the USS Sanctuary in September of 1969 and went to the personnel office for my assignment. This won’t surprise anyone who was ever in the Navy, but they seemed to have no idea that I was coming. After conferring among themselves, they came back and told me that I would be senior corpsman in sterile surgical supply.
Sterile surgical supply was where we prepared and maintained all the equipment necessary for conducting surgery as well as the sterile equipment used in the clinics and wards. The Sanctuary had several surgical suites that were busy almost all the time when we were on station in support of combat operations. It was a busy place and went through a lot of equipment.
Life on board a Navy ship is a 24 hour a day, seven day a week job. There are no days off when you’re at sea. Fortunately, as a member of the hospital crew, I was what they called a shift worker. Which meant I had a set schedule. Members of the ship’s crew were watch standers. That meant they worked in four hour rotations that changed every 24 hours. We could at least have some type of a routine for awake and sleep time, but for a watch stander the schedule was constantly rotating. As a petty officer and a supervisor, I was exempt from some extracurricular duties such as working on the mess decks and taking part in working parties for regular ship maintenance and supply.
The work was hard and continuous. There was no shortage of casualties in 1969. Our job was to provide direct medical support to our troops in combat. The wounded were flown by helicopter directly from the battlefield to the ship. We got the most severely injured; the ones who couldn’t be effectively treated at a field hospital.
The crew was highly trained and incredibly efficient. From the time a wounded soldier or marine landed on our flight deck it was only minutes until he was in the operating room. The survival rate for the wounded in Vietnam was far greater than it had been in either World War II or Korea. This was largely due to the speed with which casualties were transported to definitive medical care.
We generally didn’t treat civilians, but one day, unbeknownst to us, one of our medevac helicopters was bringing in a pregnant Vietnamese woman. When she was offloaded on the flight deck she was already in labor. They brought her down to the preoperative holding area which was adjacent to our sterile supply room. When there was a heavy influx of casualties, we helped out in the preop area that functioned somewhat like an emergency room.
We were standing there, an anesthesiologist and three corpsmen, trying to figure out how to deliver a baby. Thank goodness the woman took it in her own hands and delivered the baby herself! Of course, that didn’t stop us from congratulating each other about delivering the only baby born on a Navy hospital ship during the Vietnam War. If only all our patients could have turned out so well.
When I remember my time on the Sanctuary, I try not to dwell on the suffering of our patients. Their sacrifices still move me to tears. I prefer to be grateful that I was mostly out of direct combat and to focus the less intense episode that helped us maintain our sanity.
One unexpected benefit of being the senior corpsman in sterile surgical supply was being able to order those supplies. One day while going through the supply catalog I discovered it was possible to order five gallons of pure medical grade grain alcohol. And even better, it required no approval. I also ordered a large five gallon glass beaker. We had wall mounts in our work room where there were glass beakers with soap solution and acetone. We also had an empty wall mount.
The alcohol arrived, along with the five-gallon beaker. I put the alcohol in the beaker and pasted a large poison sign on it. I got green food coloring from the mess decks in return for a promise to share. It’s easy to be generous when you have five gallons. I did have to emphasize that it couldn’t be drunk straight but had to be diluted by fifty percent with fruit juice or soda.
The food coloring gave it an appropriately poisonous appearance. It also gave us the advantage of hiding it in plain sight. I quickly became the most popular corpsman on the ship.
Right after Thanksgiving the CO of the ship issued an announcement that the crew was now authorized to put up Christmas decorations. (I think I’ve mentioned before that sometimes I don’t always think through my wise cracks.) The fact that we were now authorized to have Christmas got me thinking. I made a large sign that said “All enlisted personnel desiring to have a Merry Christmas must report to the ship’s office to obtain a Christmas chit. Personnel having a Merry Christmas without an appropriate chit will be subject to nonjudicial punishment.” A chit was basically the Navy’s version of a permission slip. I thought this was pretty funny. Apparently, the ship’s office did not agree when people started lining up to get their Christmas chits.
This resulted in a stern lecture from our leading chief. It generally consisted of about every third word beginning with the letter F. I was sure I was going to be reassigned, reduced in rank, sent to the brig or something even worse. Surprisingly, after many blistering words, he dismissed me with a wave of the hand. As I was leaving, much relieved, the chief said, “And you can drop off the rest of that grain you got to the chief’s mess .” That depleted my supply and ended my short-lived popularity on the USS Sanctuary.
Right after Christmas, we had the opportunity to have a Bob Hope show on board the ship. Everyone was crammed onto the main deck to watch Bob, a few musicians and some dancers put on about an hour and a half show. I was way in the back as we had all the patients in the front. Bob’s jokes were corny. I’m sure the dancers were pretty (I wasn’t close enough to tell for sure) and the musicians weren’t particularly talented, but a good time was had by all.
Navy ships at sea in a combat zone practice strict blackout at night. Hospital ships don’t. Not only are they painted white, but they are lit up like a cruise ship with large flood lights hanging over the side of the ship to illuminate the red crosses. This illumination led to what quickly became one of our favorite pastimes.
Inshore ocean waters in Southeast Asia are infested with sea snakes and they are attracted to light. One sailor had his parents send him a sling shot and BBs and before long the ship’s rails were lined with sailors firing BBs and watching the snakes rolling in the water. For most of us, these were the only shots we fired in Viet Nam.
Once, while cruising close to the mouth of the Perfume River near Hue City, the ship went dead in the water. The rumor quickly spread among the crew that the NVA had attached a mine to the hull. Everyone rushed on deck to watch as divers went over the side to investigate. Imagine our disappointment when they surfaced dragging a large fishing net that had wrapped around the propeller.
I don’t remember as much about the trip home from Vietnam as I do about the plane ride over. I do remember that as soon as the plane lifted off the ground everyone on board started cheering and applauding and whiskey bottles were passed up and down the aisles. (Perhaps that’s why I don’t remember much about the flight.) Needless to say, it was a very happy trip.
There were other events that I may share at some point, including a misguided trip to Camp Eagle and several port calls to the infamous Olongapo in the Philippines. However, this post has gone on long enough, but I may return later to revisit these memories.
We arrived at Norton Air Force Base, which I now knew was in Ontario, California, not Ontario, Canada. They took us through customs and started searching our bags. I was wondering why, because I couldn’t imagine anything we could possibly be bringing back that would be valuable enough for customs to worry about until I saw them going through bags and pulling out weapons, grenades and even a mortar shell.
This was in the spring of 1970 and the height of the Vietnam War protests. As soon as we cleared customs, they put us in a large auditorium and gave us our welcome home briefing. One of the few things I remember from this is that we were told that if we did not have civilian clothes that we should go to the base exchange buy some and put them on before we got to LAX. Under no circumstances should we go to LAX in uniform because we would be harassed or possibly even assaulted by protesters. This was not quite the welcome home any of us were expecting.
I was on my way to an officer training program and four years in college. I was sure that by the time I graduated and got commissioned the war in Vietnam would be over. But, like many things associated with that war, nothing would ever be certain, and I would see that sad country again.
When I left my duty station in Key West, the Navy handed me my orders and a check to cover my travel costs. As always, they left it up to me to figure out how to get there. I didn’t worry about that for the first two weeks. I was at home in Charleston, WV, and when I had a week left in my leave, I thought it was time to figure out how to get from Charleston to Norton Air Force Base, where I was supposed to get government transportation to take me to my new duty station, the hospital ship USS Sanctuary that was cruising off the coast of Vietnam. I asked my father. He had never heard of Norton Air Force Base either and he suggested we contact a friend of his who was a travel agent. So, Dad gave him a call and two days later I went down to pick up the tickets. The agent handed me an airline ticket to Ontario International Airport. While I was trying to explain to him that I wasn’t going to Canada, that I was going to take my orders to Vietnam, he laughed and told me that Ontario was actually in California. It was the closest commercial airport to Norton Air Force Base. While the Navy had given me money for transportation, it would only cover coach. In those days a coach seat was about the size a first-class seat is today. That flight took me to California where I got a bus to the Air Force base for the government chartered flight to Vietnam. It was a long trip from California to Da Nang. We stopped in Hawaii to refuel. Unfortunately for us, they wouldn’t let us out of the airport. We were on that airliner long enough that they fed us three times, once on the way to Hawaii and twice between Hawaii and Da Nang. All three meals consisted of baked chicken, peas and carrots, and mashed potatoes. It wasn’t so bad for lunch and dinner but baked chicken for breakfast just wasn’t something I was up for. In typical government style we had three meals supplied by the lowest bidder. I arrived in Da Nang to discover that the Sanctuary only came in port about every 6 to 8 weeks to resupply and wasn’t due back for three weeks. I got assigned to the transient barracks, where the Navy puts people awaiting further assignment. Sometimes at morning muster (roll call) they gave us jobs such as unloading trucks or doing basic lawn maintenance. Most of the time we were on our own to entertain ourselves. The transient barracks was in Camp Tien Sha, a Sea Bee run support base. The most popular place on the base for enlisted men was the movie theater. It was open 24 hours a day and was free of charge. You could bring your own beer and they even allowed smoking in the theater. (Everyone smoked in the 60s.) They only had four movies which they ran in continuous rotation. But most importantly, it was the only place on base that an enlisted sailor could go that was air conditioned. Some guys even slept there. While the camp was in one of the most secure parts of the Da Nang area, occasionally at night the alert sirens would sound. If any place in the surrounding area was attacked everyone got an alert. We would then go out to the bunkers and stand around outside to see if there were any rockets landing close to us. If there were, we would go inside the bunker. If not, we stood around outside smoking and trying to avoid the shore patrol who drove around to make sure we were in the bunkers. Occasionally we could see an explosion or the path of tracers in the air. Mostly we could just hear them. We were never quite sure where they were, but we were fairly confident they weren’t very close. One of the most entertaining things was watching the TV news reporters. Camp Tien Sha had a weapons repair facility. If you were near it, you could hear machine guns and other weapons being test fired after having been repaired. You could also see tanks and other armored vehicles running up and down their test track. We got a big kick out of watching reporters put on a helmet and a flak jacket and stand in front of the camera while the tanks ran up and down behind them and the machine guns fired and them saying: “I’m reporting from the front lines in Vietnam. You can hear the battle raging behind me “. Occasionally, we would laugh so hard that one of the production people would come over and run us off. I know we ruined more than a few shots. Eventually I got called to the personnel office and was told that the Sanctuary was due in port that afternoon. They handed me my orders and told me to report on board. I asked how to get to the dock and the personnel clerk just looked at me and shrugged. I eventually found my way to the motor pool and got a ride with a jeep that was heading down towards the docks. There were several ships in the port at that time. However, the Sanctuary was hard to miss. Unlike other Navy ships that were painted gray, the Sanctuary was painted bright white and was emblazoned with big red crosses on the hull. I walked up the gangway, saluted and requested permission to board. In Anchors Aweigh Part IV I’ll talk more about life on the Sanctuary.
Over the years, I’ve complained a lot about the parking in Charleston. Not enough on-street parking. People encroaching on the next space. Parking garages are too crowded with too many reserved spots. However, I’ve gained a new appreciation for the ease of parking in Charleston.
Margie and I recently took a trip to Italy with our daughter Annie and her family. At Annie’s recommendation we decided to rent a car so we could travel more freely. One of the most interesting or perhaps I should say stressful parts of our trip was the driving and parking in Italy. But driving is a story for another day. Today I’m going to talk about parking.
Even the process of car rental in Italy is different from what we’re used to. I reserved a car online and filled out all the necessary forms including passport and driver’s license numbers. When we arrived at the car rental agency, they asked for my driver’s license, passport and credit card. They made a copy of my license and passport and ran my credit card. We had a brief conversation where they tried to get me to upgrade to an SUV for only an additional €20 a day. My son-in-law had already warned me that I needed to get a small car because parking was difficult. They had one more tactic to try to get that extra upgrade. Unless I upgraded to an SUV, I would have to take a standard shift car. I wasn’t concerned because I learned to drive on a standard and drove one for many years. More on that later.
They handed me a set of keys and gave me vague directions towards the parking garage. When I got to the garage and found the rental company’s area, I was expecting to be handed paperwork and to inspect the car with the rental agent. To my surprise, the agent pointed down the row and said space #26. No paperwork, no inspection and no directions on how to get out of the garage.
I finally found my way out and onto the highway. It took about an hour to get to Milan from the airport. As soon as we located the hotel, we started looking for parking. The hotels in Italy typically do not have a parking garage as part of their facility.
My first thought was on-street parking. But that thought didn’t last long. There was hardly an inch of curb that didn’t have someone parked on it. The cars were all parked less than a foot apart with little or no space to maneuver in or out. I really don’t know how anyone got out of these spaces. I know I couldn’t have. The cars were fairly small so maybe they could just drag them out into the traffic lane. I soon realized why no one left spaces between the cars. If there was more than about two feet of space, there was a motor scooter parked in it. I wasn’t yet brave enough to attempt parallel parking on the street in Italy.
Luckily Margie spotted a parking garage just around the corner from the hotel. We pulled in and I tried to get a ticket to enter. I kept pressing the button, but nothing happened. Finally, Margie got out of the car and got the parking garage attendant who was busy smoking and talking on his phone. He came over, gave me an exasperated look and did a quick double tap on the button and that produced a ticket. Perhaps that’s what it said in Italian underneath the button. I really don’t know.
But the gate still didn’t go up. I waited for a while and then thought maybe I had to back up and go over a pressure plate in the driveway. The whole time the Italian drivers were lining up behind me. Much to my consternation I discovered I didn’t know how to get this car into reverse. I tried all the things I remembered from driving standards in my younger days. I pressed down on the shift lever and tried to shift it. It didn’t work. I felt for a button on the shift knob, nothing there. I felt for a handle underneath it to release the gear shift, nothing there either. About that time, Margie noticed that the arm on the gate had opened. I didn’t know why, but I wasn’t going to complain because I certainly couldn’t back up.
We started up the ramp. Now imagine a spiral ramp much like the exit ramp in the parking garage of most large malls. Now imagine it’s about 15% narrower. And now imagine there is two-way traffic on this ramp. I was fortunate on my way up because I only encountered one other car. He had just started to enter the ramp as I got there so he backed up into the garage and I went on up the ramp. There were six floors in the parking garage and of course there were no spaces on anything but the 6th floor. I pulled into a very narrow space and told Margie this car is going to stay here until we leave town.
Additionally, if I couldn’t figure out how to get it into reverse it was going to stay in that parking garage forever. After playing with the shifter for a while I discovered that about a third of the way down the shift lever under a leather boot was a ring that you put your fingers under and pull up in order to shift it into reverse. It was very cleverly hidden, I’m sure just to confuse American tourists.
The trip up the ramp was exciting but nothing compared to the trip down. We started down slowly and I was very thankful that I didn’t upgrade to an SUV. On the way down the ramp, we passed five other cars. With each one we had to get over to the edge of the ramp and then continually jockey back and forth to work our way past, with literally inches to spare between our cars and the wall. I kept waiting to hear scraping of metal on concrete or metal on metal as the cars collided. I was watching the other car while Margie was watching the wall. I wish I had thought to turn off the car’s proximity alarm because it was dinging all the way down. Luckily, we made it to the street without any structural damage to the car.
I vowed then and there that I wasn’t going to park in any more multi-level parking garages. We went from Milan to Florence. There we found a parking garage where we pulled through the door and turned the car over to an attendant. Next, we went on to Siena where we found a parking garage outside of the main part of the city. We pulled in the door and the attendant took over and drove us to our hotel. Then he took our car back to the garage, parked it and came back to pick us up at the end of our visit to Siena. (If I had wound up on the 6th floor of another parking garage with a narrow two-way spiral ramp, I might have just abandoned the car and started sending a monthly payment to Italy.)
Parking in Charleston may not be as bad as I thought, but at least in Italy I never saw an extended bed, super duty pickup truck in a space marked “small car only”.
Christmas in Colonial America
By John Turley
On December 15, 2023
In Commentary, Food and Drink, History, Travel
In the United States today, we have a very expansive view of what constitutes Christmas celebrations. We don’t find it at all unusual to see an inflatable Santa Claus next to a manger scene. The wisemen are as likely to be following neon snowflakes as yonder star. This combination of religious and secular is something that we just accept without a whole lot of thought. But it wasn’t always the case. In colonial America Christmas was celebrated in a mostly religious fashion when it was celebrated at all.
Colonial New England
Colonial New England was settled in large part by Puritans. They even extended their influence to areas that they did not initially settle. They went so far as to banish, and in some cases even execute people who did not agree with them. They were determined to create a society dominated by Puritan beliefs.
The Puritans did not favor Christmas celebration; they believed there was no scriptural basis for acknowledging Christmas beyond doing so in prayer. In 1621 Governor William Bradford of Plymouth Colony criticized some of the settlers who chose to take the day off from work because as Puritans he felt that they could best serve God by being productive and orderly.
The celebration of Christmas was outlawed in most of New England. Calvinist Puritans and some other protestants abhorred the entire celebration and likened it to pagan rituals and “Popish” observances. In 1659, the General Court of Massachusetts forbade, under the fine of five shillings per offense, the observance “of any such day as Christmas or the like, either by forebearing of labour, feasting, or any such way.” The Assembly of Connecticut, in the same period, prohibited the reading of the Book of Common Prayer, the keeping of Christmas and saints’ days, the making of mince pies, the playing of cards, or performing on any musical instruments. These statutes remained in force until they were repealed early in the nineteenth century.
It is important to note that Puritan hostility to Christmas was not because they did not believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ. They objected to the way the holiday was being celebrated. They disliked the excesses of Yuletide festivities in England. Christmas had become a time for the working class to drink, gamble, and party. The Puritans would not tolerate any sign of disorder and believed that it was an affront to God.
They tried to protest Christmas revelries while still living in England but had little impact. Once they moved to the New World where they were able to exert control, they would not condone any form of excess. Except, perhaps, an excess of piety and self-righteousness.
Any form of Christmas observance that did occur took the shape of fasting, prayer, and religious service. Even the famous New England cleric Increase Mather loathed Christmas and believed the holiday was derived from the excesses of the pagan Roman holiday Saturnalia. We shouldn’t think that Mather was completely humorless; he once called alcohol. “a good creature of God “. Drinking wasn’t bad, but like all things it must be done in moderation with complete self-control. That’s probably good advice for everyone, whether they’re a Puritan or not.
Middle Atlantic Colonies
Many of the traditions that we now consider part of the American Christmas have their origins in the middle Atlantic colonies, most notably in Pennsylvania. Many of these were brought by settlers of German heritage as well as some traditions brought by the Scots and the Dutch.
In Pennsylvania there were two quite different Christmas traditions, one of the protestant groups and another of the Quakers. They differed considerably in their approach to Christmas.
Some colonists celebrated Christmas by importing English customs such as drinking, feasting, mumming and wassailing. Mumming involved wearing masks and costumes and going door-to-door singing carols or performing short plays in exchange for food or drink. Wassailing was a tradition where people would go from house to house singing carols and drinking toasts to the health of their neighbors. Some non-Puritan New Englanders also continued these traditions but kept them private to avoid attracting the attention of the Puritan officials.
Many of the Christmas traditions that we think of as being a quintessentially American are derived from the settlers of German descent who were known as the Pennsylvania Dutch. These include celebration of the advent season, the decoration of the Christmas tree, singing of Christmas carols, the display of nativity scenes, and the exchange of gifts on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. We can’t imagine Christmas without these things, but we seldom remember that it was our German American ancestors who gave us these wonderful traditions.
To me the most interesting and probably most significant tradition passed on by the Pennsylvania Dutch was what led to our current concept of Santa Claus. During the colonial period, they had the tradition of Beltznickle. He is depicted as a man wearing furs and a mask and having a long tongue. He’s usually shown as being very ragged and wearing dirty clothes. He had a pocketful of cakes, candies and nuts for good children, but he also carried a switch or a whip with which to beat naughty children. Beltznickle took the naughty and nice list very seriously.
He was a long way from Clement Clark Moore’s jolly old elf in ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas and the jovial Santa Claus that we know today from the original Coca-Cola ads of 1930.
Quakers had a much different approach to Christmas. They did not celebrate it at all. It is not that they were opposed to Christmas as were the Puritans. It’s just that they did not celebrate any holidays, Easter, birthdays or any other holidays. They had no set liturgical calendar, so they did not have an advent, or an Easter season or any other religious holiday. There is no central Quaker authority to set beliefs or doctrines. Each Quaker is free to decide how to observe religious traditions. They focus on spiritual reflection and social justice.
Non-Quakers did not always understand their religious beliefs or practices. Here is an example of how Quaker practices were seen by outsiders. Swedish naturalist Peter Kalm visited Philadelphia in 1747 and recorded the following observation in his diary:
Christmas Day. . . .The Quakers did not regard this day any more remarkable than other days. Stores were open, and anyone might sell or purchase what he wanted. . . .There was no more baking of bread for the Christmas festival than for other days; and no Christmas porridge on Christmas Eve! One did not seem to know what it meant to wish anyone a merry Christmas. . . at first the Presbyterians did not care much for celebrating Christmas, but when they saw most of their members going to the English church on that day, they also started to have services.
Apparently, Presbyterians were much quicker to adopt popular practices then were the Quakers.
Southern Colonies
Celebration of Christmas was similar throughout all of the southern colonies. We’ll consider Colonial Williamsburg as a proxy for the rest of the southern colonial region. This is largely because there is more information available about Williamsburg than other areas and because it represented what was the majority of practices at the time. The major religion of the southern colonies was Church of England and they followed those practices.
Religious services were a central part of their celebration. The majority of the religious observances were during the advent season, the four weeks leading up to Christmas which were a period of reflection on the significance of the coming of Christ. The southern colonies usually held Christmas Eve services although occasionally Christmas Day services were held. Christmas Day was considered a day of celebration and family feasting.
It should be noted that the Christmas celebration was only for the white population. If the enslaved people received a holiday for Christmas, it was only because the weather was too bad to work in the fields. And of course, the house slaves were expected to attend to all the needs of the Christmas celebration.
Margie and I decided to visit Colonial Williamsburg in December of 2019, the period we refer to as BC (before COVID). We’ve always had a special affinity for Williamsburg because that’s where we spent our honeymoon 52 years ago. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, perhaps a large inflatable George Washington holding a Christmas wreath. But it was much more understated than what I had anticipated.
According to our tour guide, even those low-key decorations were probably more than would have been evident in the colonial era. People typically decorated their homes on the day before Christmas and removed the decorations the day after Christmas. Decorations were usually limited to candles in the window and pine boughs on the tables and mantle pieces. Pine boughs were used to decorate the church in what was known as “sticking the church”.
At Colonial Williamsburg we saw many displays that included fresh fruits and pineapples. Our tour guide told us that those were too precious to actually have been used as decorations and might have been included as part of a table display to be consumed during the Christmas feast. Some people would even rent a pineapple to display on their table as a sign of their wealth.
The first Christmas tree did not make its appearance in Williamsburg until 1848.
The southern colonists were very social people. They enjoyed wassailing as did the people of the mid Atlantic colonies. They also considered Christmas as a time for feasting, dancing, and celebrations. Men of the upper class celebrated Christmas with fox hunts and other outdoor activities. Men of the working classes frequently celebrated Christmas with shooting matches and drinking parties. Women, of course, were expected to stay at home and prepare the meals. Christmas Balls were a common practice among the upper class of the southern colonies. They were often elaborate and included large banquets with musicians, dancing and occasionally masquerades.
Present exchange was not standard practice in the southern colonies. However, it was common to give children small presents of nuts, fruit, candy, and small toys. Adults generally did not exchange presents.
Virginian Phillip Fithians writing in his journal in 1773 gave the following description of a gather just before Christmas: When it grew to dark to dance. . . . we conversed til half after six; Nothing is now to be heard of in conversation, but the Balls, the Fox-hunts, the fine entertainments, and the good fellowship, which are to be exhibited at the approaching Christmas.
Life in colonial America could be hard, but that did not stop them from having a joyous Christmas celebration.