When I was seven I lived next door to an exotic old woman and she gave me this Santa. In hindsight, the woman was old and probably a cardiologist — only exotic in the sense that she was very educated and lived next door to us, the unruly Catholics with seven kids. One year she invited the bunch of us over for a little Christmas party, which seemed incredibly fancy to me. There was a long table with a white tablecloth, and cookies that were unlike any I'd ever had, flat with a sickening licorice taste.
After the party the woman gave me and my brother identical Santas, except that mine had a gimpy leg and it wobbled, which seemed right at the time because I saw myself as a victim.
This short essay is excerpted from Taking Things Seriously: 75 Objects with Unexpected Significance, a book by Joshua Glenn and Carol Hayes in which they and other writers discuss the importance of objects in their lives. This is the third essay in a series to appear on Design Observer.
Comments [1]
no comments under your standing. You remind me of my figurines of some merry men in the forest and little red riding hood.
How could everybody be worried about themselves and their names and neglect you so shortly after the hardest labor intense day/night of the year.
Good job, santa. Love ya just like all most the other pseudonymbskills here who hopped, skipped and jumped over this posting. How quickly we forget. You're so cool in my media information distribution method of choice. I was gonna say: so cool in my book, but, you know, there's some controversy about that.
Plus, I'm a fan of anybody who admits to flying through the sky with or without spiritual convictions or confessions.
I think those cookies were probably springerle, and the flavoring would be anise seed. It is good for your bloating and wind and restoring equilibrium. Wobble, huh?
12.30.07
01:35