Category Archives: Childhood memory; Christmas

On Christmas cookies

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Hi. My name is Paul and I’ve been addicted to Christmas cookies my whole life, but this is not an addiction that needs breaking or curing, if either of the those things is possible. Of course, my addiction is really to sugar, and I have really gotten too old to eat much sugar anymore. My body just cannot handle that kind of rich food anymore. Yet, is there anything as tempting as a nice big sugar cookie in the form of a Christmas tree, frosted green with multicolored sprinkles? Or perhaps some “press outs” with a nice almond flavor in the shape of wreaths and candy canes? There are a hundred and one wonderful cookies that get made as special treats for Christmas. My sad reality is that I am an addict who cannot eat any of the rich and wonderful delights anymore. I am allergic to eggs and I am way too fat for my own good, so cookies are off the list. When I was a child we used to make a quadruple batch of sugar cookies, rolling them out, cutting them out, transferring them to baking sheets and then the over. We would decorate the cookies with a powdered sugar frosting and then top them off with colored sugar sprinkles. We also made a Swedish toast called “rusk” which was a twice-baked bread that was as hard a rock to eat, but it was so delicious with a cup of hot cocoa or maybe some steaming Russian tea, which had nothing to do with Russia, but it was hot and steamy on a cold winter’s day. Who could ask for more? Winter in Minnesota is about survival, not miracles. You learn to appreciate the little things like a very hard piece of crunchy toast. You knew that you weren’t going to Florida anytime soon, so you had to make the best of it–and Christmas cookies were a part of the mid-winter’s night’s dream. I used to eat handfuls at a time. So this post is really about nostalgia, wonderful food experiences around Christmas time, cookies and other joyful treats that had to do with peanut butter, chocolate, coconut, almond flavoring, red frosting, powdered sugar, walnuts, and almonds. Today, I look back fondly on a more innocent time when I didn’t have to worry about my weight or blood sugar, when I could eat just about anything and have no regrets. I think that youth is wasted on the young who can take part in just about any kind of excess with almost no consequences. As you grow a little older, however, the consequences of all those bad decisions you made in yesteryear start coming home to roost. I had to kick the sugar cookie habit because of the eggs, not because of the sugar. How ironic. Having a long list of dietary restrictions is not fun, but they do make some decisions easier. Since I can’t consume eggs in any form, the decision to eat many things has been taken from me: if I eat prohibited food, I get sick. So if you see me eating oysters, don’t wonder and invite me to another dozen. Oysters and I get along great, but don’t offer me Christmas cookies unless you know they are egg-free. Sugar has become a thing of the past, which is also fine. I’ve stopped gaining weight, and I’ve even lost a pound or two. But who can really turn down a chocolate covered peanut butter ball? The Christmas cookie is, at least for me, the paradigm for pursuing a healthier lifestyle, making better dietary choices, and kicking the sugar habit. And when I break my own rules, and I do and I regret it, I know that I have to work just that much harder to get back on track. For my sake and yours, bring salad.

On Santa Claus

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I am not here to discuss the veritable existence or not of Santa Claus, but I would like to offer a few thoughts on that rather rotund, if not jolly, red-suited, white-bearded, generous fellow. His very appearance is strange given what America considers to be aesthetically appealing in male beauty: oldish, chubby (rather fat, actually), lots of facial hair, white hair, suspenders, large black boots. 007 would never look like that. Santa Claus is an odd figure who actually scares small children who are often faced with having to meet Santa up-close and personal, sitting on his lap. Though known for his kind generosity, he also keeps a naughty and nice list, which is a rather sinister proposition, especially if you have been naughty. Santa represents a threat to impose punishment if certain levels of good behavior are not observed. The naughty-nice list is a strange sword-of-Damocles type weapon which for some causes a certain amount of personal introspection. Some people worry about how bad they have been during the year because they know they deserve nothing, nothing at all. The mere existence of Santa suggests associations with the supernatural, or perhaps the magical, but the flying sleigh and reindeer imply that all is not what it seems to be–Santa is not just Santa, and those reindeer are not run-of-the-mill quadrupeds. The question of his residence is also very problematic: he lives on an ice flow which has trees and fixed foundation buildings. Yes, the ice is permanent, and ice houses or houses on ice are totally possible because we see the behavior in Minnesota all the time, forming small cities of ice houses on area lakes. The elf population, however, is really problematic. My question is how Santa funds the feeding of his workforce, the housing for so many reindeer, and flying sleigh maintenance. Elves are not particularly problematic because of the Harry Potter documentaries explaining the care and feeding of these magical creatures, but still I wonder about their toy-making skills. I also wonder about how Santa makes it down chimneys in his unhealthy state of chubbiness. Chimneys are dicey enough to maneuver even when you are skinny, but if you are carrying around an extra sixty or seventy pounds, you might not make it down the chimney at all. I think the perks of being Santa, however, are very nice, but quite unhealthy, being free cookies and milk at all his stops. Perhaps being Santa is harder than it looks. Mrs. Claus does a lot–let’s out his Santa suit, overfeeds him, tells him he’s going to be late, nags him about new curtains for the living room, stuff like that, so we know who to thank for all those gifts on Christmas morning. I worry that Santa Claus is part of patriarchal conspiracy to enslave elves, repress reindeer, spread the wealth, and generalize breaking and entering. I also worry about Santa’s blood sugar and waist line. He does not lead a healthy lifestyle, and his cholesterol must be sky-high. I worry about Santa, and maybe you should too. So Santa is the generous, fun guy, handing out free stuff, watching over us all, checking the “naughty/nice” app on his phone, wondering if it will storm this Christmas Eve.

On Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

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Being just a little different can really be a big problem. The story of Rudolph is one of rejection, isolation, and marginalization that take a heavy toll on all those involved, victim and oppressors. I have never really understood why human beings have such a hard time dealing with those people (or reindeer) who are a little different. Rudolph is openly mocked by his peer group for having a red nose. This is a physical difference over which he has no control and no responsibility. Those in authority do little to stop the mocking, and even serve to make the situation a little worse by sending him home and banning him from reindeer school and the games they play. This is an old story about shame and loneliness, distrust and fear, envy and anxiety. In other words the reindeer has been openly rejected by his cohort and by the authorities placed there to keep order and teach the new reindeer. The cruelty of the situation is stunning, and although the bullies are initially rebuffed by the authority (Donner), they get what they want when Rudolph is sent away. The story of Rudolph is an allegory for those who suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune as they are tormented and bullied for reasons over which they have no control and no recourse–big ears, a funny nose, red hair, short stature, skinny body, strange eyeglasses, out-of-date clothing, odd voice, overweight body. Tolerance is not promoted or practiced because authorities have often started out life as those who dish it and are very intolerant themselves. Many people, I believe, can relate to Rudolph’s plight as he runs away, believing there is no place for him in North Pole society. He is a misfit. The fact that his story has a happy ending answers few questions for those whose stories do not have happy endings. Perhaps it is the isolation and silent suffering which is so hard to take, especially when it is your peers who are taking great delight in torturing you because you are slow, or nerdy, or not cool, or not with it. You yourself know that you are really no different than anyone else, and Rudolph realizes this as well. It is his slight physical difference which makes him a monster for all who might behold him. Once society decides that he his monstrous, then his right to live freely and pursue happiness is gone, limited by prejudice and hate. Rudolph journeys off into the wilderness, another metaphor for conflict, doubt, and self-loathing, driven away by a society that cannot tolerate the individual who controls their own destiny. Society does not tolerate difference, independence, iconoclasms, or anarchy within its social borders. Though having a red nose is nothing but a cosmetic difference that has nothing to do with actual content, having a different colored anything has always been a reason to enslave, mistreat, marginalize, or repress. Apartheid was born of racial prejudice and it flourished as a bonafide social practice for decades before it was overthrown. Rudolph’s story is, then, both profound and important. It is unjust and wrong to treat anyone different just because of some physical difference which is of no importance whatsoever. The allegory of Rudolph and his nose is an important lesson for everyone, especially during the holiday season when these differences are felt so keenly. As a final note, one should remember that the misfits of the world are only misfits because of societal constructs that make them so. Exclusion is always easier than inclusion. If there is one message that all should take from the Christmas season, it must be that inclusion is good. An elf dentist named Hermy or a Klondike loner named Cornelius show much greater heart and soul by taking in Rudolph and including him in their club than those who would dismiss them because they do not conform to mainstream ideas of image and prestige.

On fruit cake

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A traditional holiday treat that many people don’t like, or at least lots of folks joke about. Sweet, chewy, filled with candied fruit and nuts, encased in a rich spicy cake, what’s not to like? In fact, this treat is so rich that it might not be a good idea to eat more than a small piece at any given moment. If you are watching your weight, forget fruit cake because each piece will have between four hundred and eight hundred calories given all the sugar it has in it. Perhaps it just seems old-fashioned. There are recipes for fruit cake that go back to the middle ages, a fact which opens the door to numerous jokes and lots of ridicule, but I think most of that ridicule is unfounded and based on a biased and uneducated experience as to what this delicious, succulent, treat is really all about. Cake. Who doesn’t like a nice spice cake with lots of rich eggs, flour, and sugar? Walnuts and pecans. Enough said. Candied fruits of all kinds. There are those people who do not like candied fruits, but again, it’s about sugar, so unless you are diabetic, you should love fruit cake which has candied oranges, cherries, pears, lemons, figs, watermelon rinds, and raisins in it. The common denominator here is sugar, and lots of it. Perhaps people fear and loath fruitcake because your strange Aunt Hortensia was the one who gave it to you as a gift, when you really wanted a new video game for your console. You have a natural aversion to your aunt who smells like cats, dresses as if it were 1955, and usually gives you tighty-whitey underwear for Christmas, not a new video game. This time the box weighs several pounds, and you know it’s not what you want. I often think that the presentation and image of fruitcake gives it a bad rap as well: brown and bumpy with strange, muted colors. Fruitcake is also rather massive and somber looking, not at all pleasant or translucent, as if it needed an extreme makeover so that it looked more like a diaphanous piece of sculpted cheese cake rather than something that the cat might have killed and dragged in. If you were to give it to the cat, I’m sure they would make short work of it though. Fruitcake has an image issue which its makers need to deal with. This is a dessert which is just not modern and glitzy, not healthy or holistic, not for losing weight or getting control of your blood pressure. I would suggest, in fact, that if you have any problems related to sugar or fat or weight or high blood pressure or cholesterol, that this is not your ideal food. If, on the other hand, you want to have friends in for a nice hot cup of coffee or mulled wine or aquavit or whatever, you might want to offer small pieces of this delightful, heaven-sent victual that is a delight to eat and wonderful to share. Certainly, you are not going to give this to the younger generation–they want toaster pastries or energy drinks or fast food. They eat with their eyes and fruitcake does not “look” good, so they won’t eat it. Their loss. But if you are having in a few people who have been around the world and eaten a few odd things, then a freshly baked fruitcake from a central Texas location is probably called for. The nuts, the fruit, the cake, it’s a great gift for your favorite teacher, a fabulous administrative assistant, your boss, or just someone you love. Being generous and loving during the holidays is a fine way to cap the year, and God knows, this has been a stressful year. So why not do it with fruitcake?

On fruit cake

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A traditional holiday treat that many people don’t like, or at least lots of folks joke about. Sweet, chewy, filled with candied fruit and nuts, encased in a rich spicy cake, what’s not to like? In fact, this treat is so rich that it might not be a good idea to eat more than a small piece at any given moment. If you are watching your weight, forget fruit cake because each piece will have between four hundred and eight hundred calories given all the sugar it has in it. Perhaps it just seems old-fashioned. There are recipes for fruit cake that go back to the middle ages, a fact which opens the door to numerous jokes and lots of ridicule, but I think most of that ridicule is unfounded and based on a biased and uneducated experience as to what this delicious, succulent, treat is really all about. Cake. Who doesn’t like a nice spice cake with lots of rich eggs, flour, and sugar? Walnuts and pecans. Enough said. Candied fruits of all kinds. There are those people who do not like candied fruits, but again, it’s about sugar, so unless you are diabetic, you should love fruit cake which has candied oranges, cherries, pears, lemons, figs, watermelon rinds, and raisins in it. The common denominator here is sugar, and lots of it. Perhaps people fear and loath fruitcake because your strange Aunt Hortensia was the one who gave it to you as a gift, when you really wanted a new video game for your console. You have a natural aversion to your aunt who smells like cats, dresses as if it were 1955, and usually gives you tighty-whitey underwear for Christmas, not a new video game. This time the box weighs several pounds, and you know it’s not what you want. I often think that the presentation and image of fruitcake gives it a bad rap as well: brown and bumpy with strange, muted colors. Fruitcake is also rather massive and somber looking, not at all pleasant or translucent, as if it needed an extreme makeover so that it looked more like a diaphanous piece of sculpted cheese cake rather than something that the cat might have killed and dragged in. If you were to give it to the cat, I’m sure they would make short work of it though. Fruitcake has an image issue which its makers need to deal with. This is a dessert which is just not modern and glitzy, not healthy or holistic, not for losing weight or getting control of your blood pressure. I would suggest, in fact, that if you have any problems related to sugar or fat or weight or high blood pressure or cholesterol, that this is not your ideal food. If, on the other hand, you want to have friends in for a nice hot cup of coffee or mulled wine or aquavit or whatever, you might want to offer small pieces of this delightful, heaven-sent victual that is a delight to eat and wonderful to share. Certainly, you are not going to give this to the younger generation–they want toaster pastries or energy drinks or fast food. They eat with their eyes and fruitcake does not “look” good, so they won’t eat it. Their loss. But if you are having in a few people who have been around the world and eaten a few odd things, then a freshly baked fruitcake from a central Texas location is probably called for. The nuts, the fruit, the cake, it’s a great gift for your favorite teacher, a fabulous administrative assistant, your boss, or just someone you love. Being generous and loving during the holidays is a fine way to cap the year, and God knows, this has been a stressful year. So why not do it with fruitcake?

On contemporary culture

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It is hard to know what to think of contemporary culture. I know I am an old foggy, and that the current generation has left me behind, but am I really that much of a fifth wheel? The kids today can handle computers as easily as they handle breathing. They can’t write a full sentence without breaking thirty-three grammars rules, but the can text like the wind–150 words a minute, or at least they call them words. I won’t give them any points for originality, but they are persistent and fast. Creatively, they are stunted, and are often surprised when one their own comes up with a great idea, only to find that someone else already did it fifty years ago. Originality is not their strong suite. Today’s generation is pretty much addicted to cell phones, ignorant of Vietnam and Watergate, willing to spend megabucks on coffee and sandwiches, and are convinced of their own importance, which means they are just like we were thirty years ago. I have never lived under the illusion that I am either important or original. The sixties, Flower Power, ecology, Vietnam, the Domino Theory, the space race, hippies, the Manson murders, several assassinations, and Watergate burst my innocence bubble, and left me foundering in the fetid waters of the Disco era, Studio 54, platform shoes, bell bottoms and big hair. I think that contemporary society is stuck on itself, obsessed with consumerism, and buying everything, ignorant of most politics, addicted to digitally mediated communication, isolated and afraid, sleep deprived, malnourished, and impatient. I think that we live in a nation of gluttons who want their next super-sized meal now and are totally unprepared to either wait or compromise. They don’t want fast food; they want instant food, and they wouldn’t know how to cook it if they had to. There fix for instant communication has taught them to be impatient and nervous, like junkies waiting for their next fix. I think the current generation eats too much, and eats out too often, unwilling to learn to cook or to buy food that needs preparation, and the only exercise they get is walking from the car to the table in the restaurant. Yes, I am cynical about the current generation, and many of my generalizations are exaggeration that are untrue and unkind. Yet the rise of big box retailers, which put the little guys out of business because they cannot compete, is also another sign of the times, and although I see nothing ominous in the big box retailer per se, I do think those places have become a part of the national landscape and are now a part of our national past-time and our identity: we go to those places to have fun shopping. Contemporary culture shops to have fun, but I’m not sure that is either healthy or sustainable. Again, I pass judgment on an activity for which I don’t care. I would be nostalgic and say that the past was somehow better or more ideal, but I know that is also untrue, but I feel the current society drifting on a tide of consumerism that is directionless and pointless. All most people do is fill up their garage with a lot of junk they don’t need, but they aren’t happier, or richer, or better off than they were before. The current season, the Christmas season, always seems to drag out my worst thoughts about how superficial and facile our culture has become, unwilling to discuss its direction or the black hole it has become. Christmas carols have become horrible caricatures of the wonderful hymns and songs of my youth only because people want to sell more junk. Perhaps that is the key, our contemporary culture has become a desolate landscape of detritus, flotsam and jetsam, because it’s all junk. Now I’m beginning to wonder if I drinking too much coffee.

On contemporary culture

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It is hard to know what to think of contemporary culture. I know I am an old foggy, and that the current generation has left me behind, but am I really that much of a fifth wheel? The kids today can handle computers as easily as they handle breathing. They can’t write a full sentence without breaking thirty-three grammars rules, but the can text like the wind–150 words a minute, or at least they call them words. I won’t give them any points for originality, but they are persistent and fast. Creatively, they are stunted, and are often surprised when one their own comes up with a great idea, only to find that someone else already did it fifty years ago. Originality is not their strong suite. Today’s generation is pretty much addicted to cell phones, ignorant of Vietnam and Watergate, willing to spend megabucks on coffee and sandwiches, and are convinced of their own importance, which means they are just like we were thirty years ago. I have never lived under the illusion that I am either important or original. The sixties, Flower Power, ecology, Vietnam, the Domino Theory, the space race, hippies, the Manson murders, several assassinations, and Watergate burst my innocence bubble, and left me foundering in the fetid waters of the Disco era, Studio 54, platform shoes, bell bottoms and big hair. I think that contemporary society is stuck on itself, obsessed with consumerism, and buying everything, ignorant of most politics, addicted to digitally mediated communication, isolated and afraid, sleep deprived, malnourished, and impatient. I think that we live in a nation of gluttons who want their next super-sized meal now and are totally unprepared to either wait or compromise. They don’t want fast food; they want instant food, and they wouldn’t know how to cook it if they had to. There fix for instant communication has taught them to be impatient and nervous, like junkies waiting for their next fix. I think the current generation eats too much, and eats out too often, unwilling to learn to cook or to buy food that needs preparation, and the only exercise they get is walking from the car to the table in the restaurant. Yes, I am cynical about the current generation, and many of my generalizations are exaggeration that are untrue and unkind. Yet the rise of big box retailers, which put the little guys out of business because they cannot compete, is also another sign of the times, and although I see nothing ominous in the big box retailer per se, I do think those places have become a part of the national landscape and are now a part of our national past-time and our identity: we go to those places to have fun shopping. Contemporary culture shops to have fun, but I’m not sure that is either healthy or sustainable. Again, I pass judgment on an activity for which I don’t care. I would be nostalgic and say that the past was somehow better or more ideal, but I know that is also untrue, but I feel the current society drifting on a tide of consumerism that is directionless and pointless. All most people do is fill up their garage with a lot of junk they don’t need, but they aren’t happier, or richer, or better off than they were before. The current season, the Christmas season, always seems to drag out my worst thoughts about how superficial and facile our culture has become, unwilling to discuss its direction or the black hole it has become. Christmas carols have become horrible caricatures of the wonderful hymns and songs of my youth only because people want to sell more junk. Perhaps that is the key, our contemporary culture has become a desolate landscape of detritus, flotsam and jetsam, because it’s all junk. Now I’m beginning to wonder if I drinking too much coffee.

On the Grinch

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Were his shoes too tight? Don’t get me wrong, I love the Grinch, and as a child I knew Christmas could not be very far away if the network was running this very strange cartoon about hate, violence, bigotry, and intolerance. The Grinch is a very odd character who has lived in self-imposed exile in a cave on the outskirts of Whoville. What the Grinch is, exactly, is a bit of a mystery, but in the world of Dr. Seuss species identification or confusion is usually of the first order. In fact, Dr. Seuss has been known to invent his own species of beings when he wants to. The Grinch, whatever he is, is an embittered old cranky dude who lives alone with his dog. He hates Christmas, which is no secret to the billions of people who have seen the cartoon. He cooks up a diabolical plan to rob the Who down in Whoville of the Christmas by stealing the trappings of their celebration. He lacks, of course, a fundamental understanding of why people celebrate Christmas: the birth of Christ, the messiah. The trappings are nothing more than that, trappings. After loading up an enormous old sled and traipsing up the side of his mountain to his hideout, he hears the Who come and begin to sing. His epiphany causes his heart to grow because of the love he finally feels for his fellow man who can still celebrate the birth of their savior even when there are no trappings. The cartoon is an interesting riff on the consumer culture which has ironically spawned the very cartoon of which I write. Nothing is more hyper-consumerist than television, the very medium into which the cartoon of the Grinch is inscribed. The commercial advertisements that pepper the screening of the Grinch completely undermine the message of the cartoon. The hyper-consumer event that has become the Christmas present buying season, starting with Black Friday just after Thanksgiving, is completely out of control, but nobody seems to either car or to even feign caring. Our economy necessarily depends on a happy retail December so that people can work, people can buy, and people can later pay their bills. In fact, questioning the very nature of consumer America is almost anti-patriotic, if not downright anti-American. Yet the consumer society which the Grinch hates is not sustainable in the long term. Unlimited growth is not the logical outcome of a consumerist society which has finite limits unless the consumers go into perpetual debt to sustain their vicious habits of buying every last thing that they see and end up wanting and desiring because advertising and marketing are infinitely stronger than the human will to control itself. Desire, temptation, envy are a big part of human weakness, and most of what we do is motivated by one of those negative motivations. The Grinch associates the happiness of the Who with all things they have bought–toys, trees, decoration, food. Lost in the midst of that rampant out-of-control consumerism is the only reason for celebrating Christmas: the birth of a baby, the beginning of a life. If there was anything that Jesus despised on this earth it was rampant, out-of-control consumerism inside the temple. He tears through the temple, upending tables and chasing away the moneylenders and vendors who were making a living by exploiting the needs of temple visitors. The Grinch underestimates, however, the spirituality of the Who, who celebrate in spite of him, the Grinch, I mean. So we watch this cartoon, dismiss its message off hand, and we go out shopping afterwards, unwilling to do with less, or, in fact, to do with just what we need, falling into gluttony, avarice, greed, and ego. I like the Grinch because he asks the hard questions about our society, but his analysis falls short of his objectives. Christmas comes after all.

On the Grinch

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Were his shoes too tight? Don’t get me wrong, I love the Grinch, and as a child I knew Christmas could not be very far away if the network was running this very strange cartoon about hate, violence, bigotry, and intolerance. The Grinch is a very odd character who has lived in self-imposed exile in a cave on the outskirts of Whoville. What the Grinch is, exactly, is a bit of a mystery, but in the world of Dr. Seuss species identification or confusion is usually of the first order. In fact, Dr. Seuss has been known to invent his own species of beings when he wants to. The Grinch, whatever he is, is an embittered old cranky dude who lives alone with his dog. He hates Christmas, which is no secret to the billions of people who have seen the cartoon. He cooks up a diabolical plan to rob the Who down in Whoville of the Christmas by stealing the trappings of their celebration. He lacks, of course, a fundamental understanding of why people celebrate Christmas: the birth of Christ, the messiah. The trappings are nothing more than that, trappings. After loading up an enormous old sled and traipsing up the side of his mountain to his hideout, he hears the Who come and begin to sing. His epiphany causes his heart to grow because of the love he finally feels for his fellow man who can still celebrate the birth of their savior even when there are no trappings. The cartoon is an interesting riff on the consumer culture which has ironically spawned the very cartoon of which I write. Nothing is more hyper-consumerist than television, the very medium into which the cartoon of the Grinch is inscribed. The commercial advertisements that pepper the screening of the Grinch completely undermine the message of the cartoon. The hyper-consumer event that has become the Christmas present buying season, starting with Black Friday just after Thanksgiving, is completely out of control, but nobody seems to either car or to even feign caring. Our economy necessarily depends on a happy retail December so that people can work, people can buy, and people can later pay their bills. In fact, questioning the very nature of consumer America is almost anti-patriotic, if not downright anti-American. Yet the consumer society which the Grinch hates is not sustainable in the long term. Unlimited growth is not the logical outcome of a consumerist society which has finite limits unless the consumers go into perpetual debt to sustain their vicious habits of buying every last thing that they see and end up wanting and desiring because advertising and marketing are infinitely stronger than the human will to control itself. Desire, temptation, envy are a big part of human weakness, and most of what we do is motivated by one of those negative motivations. The Grinch associates the happiness of the Who with all things they have bought–toys, trees, decoration, food. Lost in the midst of that rampant out-of-control consumerism is the only reason for celebrating Christmas: the birth of a baby, the beginning of a life. If there was anything that Jesus despised on this earth it was rampant, out-of-control consumerism inside the temple. He tears through the temple, upending tables and chasing away the moneylenders and vendors who were making a living by exploiting the needs of temple visitors. The Grinch underestimates, however, the spirituality of the Who, who celebrate in spite of him, the Grinch, I mean. So we watch this cartoon, dismiss its message off hand, and we go out shopping afterwards, unwilling to do with less, or, in fact, to do with just what we need, falling into gluttony, avarice, greed, and ego. I like the Grinch because he asks the hard questions about our society, but his analysis falls short of his objectives. Christmas comes after all.