On the other hand, it aggravates the hell out of me when people insist on giving me something to show their appreciation for some (real or imagine) kind deed. I was raised to believe that anything more than a sincere “Thank you” steals your joy. Hey, the good book tells you that it’s better to give than receive. Ergo, when somebody insists on compensating me for an act of kindness, it kinda makes me feel like a whore, who expects to be rewarded for her favors. For sure, giving it up makes her feel as good as the person she gave it to. And my momma always said, “A fair exchange ain’t no robbery.” Okay, I know The Twilight Zone theme is buffering, so mayhap I’d better explain where I’m coming from as I’m once again about to be dragged into another Yuletide season screaming and kicking.
First, however, I have a gift for my ardent readers, who not only appreciate ramblings from my convoluted old mind, but call and tell me so. Dare I mention the unfathomable multitudes that e-mail (africanwarrior@aol.com) their accord? If you’ve never bothered to explore the “Yuletide” appellation (FYI: The word "Yule" was originally a Scandinavian word in Finnish: "Joul." Scholars say that Yule probably means 'feast', and "Yuletide" means the season of feasting. Yuletide lasted for 12 days. It began 12 days prior to the winter solstice…the shortest day of the year. According to one source “The Bock Saga,” the winter solstice was December 24, many years ago. There were 12 days of feasting and partying. Many cultures had winter solstice festivals, rituals, and traditions. The Scandinavians, especially the Finns, were no different.
The Romans also had a winter solstice festival called Saturnalia, from which we get some Christmas traditions as well. - Historical Origins of Christmas Tradition.) Shazam! I love teaching. But, Eyeview mavens well know I don’t celebrate “nuttin.” Not even my own birthday. Square business, they’ve become the most exploited festivity of all. For real, even people too proud to beg greedily accept alms on their birthdays. Henceforth, forgive me for drifting into The Outer Limits of “Love Offerings.” But, nothing bugs me more than folks skinning and grinning while charitable friends and acquaintances turn them into money trees on their birthday. It makes me think of those African despots who made their minions balance a scale with gold matching their weight. Consequently, it was advantageous for those greedy tyrants to be obese. Hello Black preachers!
Okay, I won’t go there. There’s no need to. Is it? Meanwhile, I’m saying all of this, to say that Christmas has become a beggar’s holiday and a hustler’s dream. Square business, I just got tired of being a victim of “Prime the pump to get the water” gifts. You old, or country brothers and sisters might as well pray with me. You pumped water from a well in 1940’s 5th Ward too. Beware Greeks bearing gifts notwithstanding, I try to ignore the Yuletide madness, but love has become a Trojan horse. Thus, I buy at least two boxes of those Afrocentric, religious themed Christmas cards at Shirley Ann’s Black Arts & Kolletibles Showroom, 6130 Wheatley (See ad on Page 2), to grudgingly respond to expressions of love for a foolish, old African warrior.
Even if I still rebuff phone caller’s “Merry Christmas,” with Bah! Humbug! I wonder if anybody knows where I’m coming from?