History of Christmas Candy Canes

For the first time this year I heard of the so called meaning of the candy canes associated by Christmas.

Our family went to a Christmas carols hosted by the combined churches in the area. (and although I am not a Christian, there is a certain wholesome and wondrous feeling when you are with hundreds of other people waving candles and lights around singing childhood songs. I am also not about to impress my beliefs into my kids and will allow them exposure to a variety of religious experiences and allow them to make their own minds up )

Santa appeared and handed out candy canes to all the children as the pastor narrated what they symbolized for all Christians. A student of history with a keen cynical streak, I could not help but wryly listen to the dogma being spewed out. I am very impressed - despite of myself, with the catholic church and the way they can twist and wind any sort of symbolism into whatever is around them to suit their own purposes. Symbolism is the most ancient and powerful forms of indoctrination and even the most unaware persons mind is open to accepting and integrating it into their lives.

Apparently, according to the pastor ( and other Christians I asked afterwards) they were designed as ‘J’s for Jesus, the three red stripes symbolizes the holy trinity. The red also symbolizes the sacrifice Jesus is about to make and the white for his purity. The hardness of the candy cane symbolizes the rock solidness of the church. I did hear something about the peppermint flavour of the candycanes too – but can’t recall it – I might do some internet search and see if its out there.

I can’t help but think the Catholics went a little overboard here – mixing up Easter messages and Christmas – intertwining the birth and death in one tiny sweet.

After a very quick search on the internet I found that candy canes originated in 1600s as a long lasting sweet to quieten the younger members of the choir as they sat waiting for their next hymn. The sweet was a white stick of harden rock. Until past the 1900s they remained in this form – many Christmas cards depicting them this way. The next few paragraphs are directly from several websites – they all say the same thing -

The traditional candy can was born over 350 years ago, when mothers used white sugar sticks as pacifiers for their babies. ( WHAT?????!!!) Around 1670, the choirmaster of Cologne Cathedral in Colonge, Germany, bent the sticks into canes to represent a shepards staff. He then used these white candy canes to keep the attention of small childern durring the long Nativity service.

The use of candy canes during the Christmas service spread through out Europe. In northern Europe, sugar canes decorated with sugar roses were used to brighten the home at Christmas time.

In the mid 1800's, the candy cane arrived in the U.S. when a German-Swedish immigrant in Wooster,Ohio , decorated his spruce tree with paper ornaments and white sugar canes. The red stripe was added to the candy cane at the turn of the century, when peppermint and wintergreen were added and became the traditional flavors for the candy cane.

So all very interesting huh?

I found a reference to say that when mechanics popularized the sweet making industry, an inventor made a way to make the hook – symbolizing the Shepherd’s crook. It was by pure mistake that red became part of the cane as it was a left over colour from another item he had been making.

So just goes to show – you can take a nice little tradition and make it mean anything you like…. Bit like the original Christmas and Easter huh?

Expectations of kids

I took four small children to a Christmas concert yesterday, hosted by the State Orchestra. We have been going for years – ever since the eldest was a baby. Each year I see proud mums drag their little darlings along bedecked in tinsel in hair and handmade Christmas outfits. I watch just about every other child stand and dance in rhythm to the music,clap and sing along to well known tunes and generally interact with the show.

I watched my four charges carefully yesterday. The 13 month old was the only one totally engaged – wriggling and clapping to the music. The other three sat in a row – staring directly forward with little expression on their faces. I stopped myself begging them to enjoy them selves, or asking them to stand up and join in.

The program was designed for small people – full of interesting information about the Orchestral instruments in a story format, interlaced with well known Christmas tunes and interaction with the crowd by a well known children’s presenter.

I desperately wanted my kids to look like they were enjoying themselves or taking in the rich music presented. As I looked about the room full of twirling Christmas fairies, a cold knife stabbed deeply into the mother guilt heart. Perhaps if I had played classical music to the more as babies or whilst in the womb they would be enjoying the excerpts from the nutcracker. Perhaps if I had enrolled them in toddler dance classes they would feel more confident to stand and twirl with the rest of them. Perhaps if I made the time to sew frocks bedecking them with ribbon and appliqué, then I too would look like a mother who cared about the development of her children. Instead as I looked down at my food encrusted shirt I was certain was clean when I got in the car to come, I look like a skanky harassed hag. At least I wasn’t nagging them to stand up – but if telepathy existed their brains would have been fried with my inner shouts and pleas.

I then thought of the autistic kids I used to teach and sent a blessing to those parents – thinking about what they must go through – the unconditional love they must hold for their kids. Feedback is such an important aspect of a relationship - and I was gaining little to no feedback from the three stooges as they stared into space within the concert hall.

The concert ended and I had ensured that I had sung Christmas Carols loudly and had clapped and cheered at he end even if the plebs I took did not. AS I buckled the kids into the car, I hesitatingly asked if they had enjoyed the morning; whilst calculating what other things I might have done instead of wasting money on these tickets.

Oh Mummy I liked the songs

No – the drums were best

I liked the horn player

That man was silly with his reindeer horned hat wasn’t he?

SO – You did like the concert then?

Oh yes – the resounding replies were. Can we go next year?

I reflected as we drove off on whose enjoyment I was expecting. My kids are very introspective in any case – but I might have expected at least one of them Miss Show Off to have joined in the fairly ring which had spontaneously erupted in front of us during one of the tinkling songs.

You just never know do you? Who am I to place what I believe is enjoyment onto their beliefs? I was just trying to placate the mother guilt beast and to show off myself – to all the other show off mums; all of us desperately trying to convince the other that we are good parents.

Eating Live Fish

It was enough to turn this meat a saurus into a vegan immediately. Now I am not squeamish and I feel that I am a responsible meat eater – that is to say – I grew up on a farm and know how to slaughter an animal and prepare it for eating.

I saw a cooking show on TV tonight that made my stomach turn and I still feel sick about it. Unsurprisingly You Tube is full of home videos of (mostly) American tourists in China filming this dish. To explain – take one very live fish and serve it to diners in under two mins. The fish must still be alive and wriggling, its mouth opening and gills fanning whilst it is at the table and being torn apart.

The fish is held and scaled, then cut in several places. It is then quickly deep fried in a vat of oil – the head held out of the oil. The fish is then placed on a plate – flapping in agony and covered with a sauce and taken to the diners – who then strip its skin off and eat the flesh – a prize is the still thumping heart. Are you sick yet? Here is one of the ‘better’ videos on you tube – but search there yourself.

I know fish don’t have much of a brain – but nothing deserves this treatment. Its horrific in the most evil ways. Am I being prissy about this?