Category Archives: Holidays

The Lore of the Rings – Christmas Past, Present & Future

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Christmas Past: It was one of those family Christmas holidays, the kind that makes you no longer care about family Christmas holidays. Traditionally, my role was to set up the artificial tree and string the lights. My mother would then organize a tree-decorating party complete with family, friends, bells, tinsel, angel hair and Christmas cheer. At the end of the holidays, my mother would remove the decorations, and I would store the tree for the next year.

It was a particularly frantic Christmas holiday: my parents were not getting along, the alcohol consumption meter was on overload, and bickering, pestering, and petty rivalries ensued. Each family crisis was supplanted by the next in a nightmare of unseasonable behavior. What is it about Christmas that brings out the worst in some people?

There was no tree-decorating party that year: my mother decorated the tree by herself. I could have helped, but I was too busy living in my own little world. It hadn’t occurred to me that I was the only family available that year to help with the decorations. I was glad when the holidays were finally over, and I could fulfill my responsibilities by packing the tree away for the next year.

It was a fitting end to the Christmas of little cheer when I lost my prized Tiger’s Eye ring. As a crystal, a Tiger’s Eye is supposed to promote harmony and balance while releasing anxiety and fear. So much for that theory, I thought, as I searched the house from top to bottom for my missing ring. I was glad the holidays were over.

Family life settled down by the next Christmas. There was a spirit of reconciliation in the air, and I was looking forward to that year’s celebrations. The previous year’s despair gave way to a glimmer of hope. With guarded optimism, I set about unpacking the family Christmas tree when I heard a “clunk” as something dropped to the floor – it was the Tiger’s Eye ring that I had lost the year before. The ring must have been caught on a branch when I was packing the tree. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come. That Christmas was a good one, and as Christmas holidays go, it was certainly better than the few that preceded it.

Fortunately, Christmas is but once a year. My parents eventually separated, siblings divorced, friendships waned, and I managed to lose the Tiger’s Eye ring yet again.

Christmas Present: I detest the commercialization of Christmas. Walmart starts playing Christmas music after Remembrance Day, and the Dollar Store sells Christmas decorations after Halloween. I know I’m cynical, but I wish people would discuss world peace, love and kindness as enthusiastically as they put up dead trees for a holiday that benefits world corporations more than world compassion. That said, I still celebrate Orthodox Christmas. By that time, the marketing madness is over, and we get to buy gifts at Boxing Day sale prices.

I stopped decorating for the holidays many years ago. Other than a wedding band, I also stopped wearing rings, but for some reason, this year, I decided to go on a hunt for my missing Tiger’s Eye. I didn’t find it, but I did find four other misplaced rings: a birthstone, a graduation ring, a pinky-ring with a black stone of unknown origin, and a cubic zirconia diamond that belonged to my father. But no Tiger’s Eye. Perhaps my Tiger’s Eye is lost forever, or perhaps it is still waiting to be found.

Christmas Future: Am I 86 years old or 87? I can’t remember. Perhaps I’m older; maybe I’m younger. I’m not really sure. Ever since I moved into the seniors complex, things have been a bit fuzzy. It’s Christmas, at least that’s what they tell me. Not that it matters, but perhaps we will have a good meal tonight. My family is all gone, but I smile at the passersby as I think back to days of Christmas past. Sure, there were bad times, but there are also pleasant memories. I remember my dad taking us to the Salvation Army one Christmas. I was only three or four at the time. I don’t remember what present they gave me, but I do remember the spirit of kindness in the room. Isn’t it funny how the poor times seemed like the best times? It wasn’t about money or commercialism or who got the best gifts; it was about family. That was the best Christmas.

I did buy myself a nice gift this year. I ordered it online about a month ago, and it arrived yesterday. I don’t know why I bought it. It was just one of those items they were selling on the shopper’s channel that caught my attention – a Tiger’s Eye ring. I have a vague memory about another Tiger’s Eye ring that I can’t quite piece together, but there is something about my new ring that provides me with a sense of belonging.

I wear it proudly and show it off to all of my friends at the Christmas party. I even show it to Santa. We all know that Santa is the home’s chef, but he is a jolly man and has a kind word to say to us all. He admires my ring and seems to know that it has some underlying meaning or significance to me.

I find myself reflecting on Christmases past, but my thoughts are clouded by fleeting memories of family and friends no longer here. Not all the memories are positive, but then again, there were some happy family times along the way. Yes, there was something about a missing ring, but, for now, I am grateful for what I have today. I will hang onto these memories for as long as I can.

My only regret was not helping my mother with the Christmas tree so many years ago. For some reason, that memory remains intact. Perhaps I can help someone at the home decorate their room this year. Just in case, I will store my new Tiger’s Eye ring away for safe keeping. I have a habit of misplacing things these days. Perhaps next year I will dig out the box of Christmas decorations that I stored away. You never know what memories I might find.

Dr. StrangeJob

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First They Came for Santa

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To maintain secrecy and avoid suspicion, InComps hold their clandestine meetings at various coffee shops throughout the area. Tim Hortons in the Pier, for example, is so noisy that the group is relatively safe from any form of eavesdropping. The InComps huddle inconspicuously in a corner booth, meticulously camouflaged as a group of 12 steppers holding an after-meeting group discussion. Just another bunch of anonymous caffeine addicts gobbling sugar treats.

Several group members have joined Dr. StrangeJob: Madi, the group’s Chief of Intellectual Guerrilla Activities; Doc Spinolee, a retired professor and intellect of the group; Psycho Sam, the group’s kilt-wearing Communications Officer with a penchant for forest fires; Zippy, the group’s techie; and Miss Mackie, an 80-year-old recently retired schoolteacher.

“Thanks for coming to this emergency meeting,” says Dr. StrangeJob. “As most of you know, I was born and raised in the Pier. I’m concerned that the townies planned a Santa Claus parade with a new route that excludes the Pier. We all know the original Santa parade was started by merchants in the Pier and it’s a tradition that the parade starts or stops in the Pier.”

“It’s all about equality,” clarifies Madi, as her rainbow dyed hair catches the attention of Miss Mackie.

“Interesting dye job,” Miss Mackie whispers to Zippy. “What’s the story there?”

“Oh, Madi came out recently and they came out loud and proud,” replies Zippy.

“You’re sounding a little cliché there aren’t you Zip?” says Miss Mackie.

“No,” retorts Zippy. “In fact, check out Madi’s new glasses! No more progressive or transitional lenses for them. Even their new glasses are clearly bi-focal.”

Dr. StrangeJob continues sharing his concern about the parade and asks for suggestions about what they should do about it.

“I got an idea,’ shouts Psycho Sam. “Let’s blow up the overpass and create our own city. Show those townies that we won’t stand for being treated unfairly.”

“Sorry Sam.” interjects Doc Spinolee, “We only support non-violent civil disobedience. Besides the overpass is no longer the only way to the Pier, there is still SPAR Road.

“Please stop referring to SPAR as SPAR Road,” pleads Miss Mackie. “SPAR stands for Sydney Port Access ROAD, so calling it SPAR Road is redundant!”

“Let’s get back to the topic at hand,” interjects Dr. StrangeJob. “I don’t like the way this whole thing played out. CBRM claims the parade was started from an independent group of townie business owners. However, the Mayor had reached out to the townie business community and CBRM is covering the insurance costs, so this sure sounds like it’s a CBRM event to me! The new Mayor is starting to sound a lot like the old Mayor.”

“You got that right,” says Madi, “and don’t get me started about in-camera meetings, communication blunders or how a call of interests for waterfront development ends up with only one alternative. That’s like posting a job and selecting only one candidate for a public interview.”   

“It’s like we all need someone to look down on,” says Zippy. “The Townies treat the Pier unfairly, CBRM treats the rest of Cape Breton unfairly, and the mainland craps all over the island.”

“You know, the mayor received threats over the parade issue,” interjects Miss Mackie. “That is just so wrong on so many levels”.

“Yeah, that is not who we are,” exclaims Maddi.

“Another cliché! I detest hearing someone say – this is not who we are – whenever something like this happens,” interjects Miss Mackie. “The first step in solving any problem is admitting you have a problem. If this is not who we are, then it’s pretty close to who we are becoming”.

“Hooray,” shouts Zippy, “I just saw a Twitter post saying the parade will now go to the Pier”.

“Well, I guess our Facebook and Twitter posts worked this time,” says Dr. StrangeJob. “But the parade issue is just a symptom of the lack of fairness that is given to the Pier. We still need to fight for the Pier. Besides, if we hadn’t raised a stink bigger than the Steel Plant, then nothing would have changed.”

“Like I said,” shouts Psycho Sam. “Let’s blow up the overpass where it crosses over the SPA Road and shut down both SPAR and the overpass at the same time”. 

“No Sam!” insists Doc Spinolee. “I believe we need to be better informed of our options and like the Doctor just said, we need to look at the big picture. Perhaps we need to talk to someone with experience in equalization and fairness issues.”

“How about someone from the Nova Scotians for Equalization Fairness group?” suggests Zippy. “They have been dealing with Cape Breton equalization underfunding by the Provincial government for over 25 years. They should have some pointers to help us deal with the Pier’s equalization issues.”

“Excellent idea Zippy,” replies Dr. StrangeJob. “I remember Father Maroun from the College of Cape Breton days back in the 70’s. That guy is smart, and he has been fighting the good fight for years.”

“I agree,” say Doc Spinolee. “We need to look at the big picture. This is not just about the Santa Claus parade. It’s about making informed decisions and ensuring trustworthy resources.”

“What do you mean?” asks Zippy.

“Well, if you want to be informed about the issue of equalization, then we have two key sources to choose from,” explains Dr. StrangeJob. “You can trust a 90-year-old educator and Priest who holds four Bachelor’s degrees, two Master’s degrees, plus a PhD or a conglomerate of politicians and business types.”

“We should try to connect with the NSEF,” says Madi, “but that will take some time. We need to think of something that we can do now.”

“I have an idea,” interjects Miss Mackie. “Let’s remove some of those Christmas lights and wreaths from Charlotte Street and put them up in the Pier”.

“You’re not talking about stealing Christmas decorations, are you?” asks Doc Spinolee. “Stealing is not in our mandate!”

“No, don’t think of it as stealing,” answers Miss Mackie. “Think of it as a reallocation of existing resources that, as taxpayers, we have all paid for. I was downtown yesterday and there were Christmas wreaths and lights hanging all over Charlotte Street. Walk around the Pier and you don’t see near the same amount.”

“Hey, this is like we were going to do with the hanging flower baskets a few years ago,” explains Madi. “Remember we planned to take, or should I say liberate, the flower baskets from downtown and drop them off at the seniors’ complex.”

“I remember that” says Zippy. “But it seems unfair to just take the wreaths and not replace them with something.”

“Good point Zippy,” notes Dr StrangeJob. “With the flower baskets, we decided to replace them with kale baskets for free food. Perhaps we have an opportunity to make the point that there is life on the other side of the overpass. Any ideas?”

“Well, in the Christmas spirit of Santa knowing who is naughty or nice,” muses Miss Mackie. “Let’s replace the existing wreaths in town with wreaths made of chunks of coal. That will send the message that they are not being nice to the rest of us”.

“Brilliant!”  exclaims Dr. StrangeJob, “But let’s make sure we don’t use any coal from the Donkin mine, that would be an accident waiting to happen”.  

“Won’t the new route make for a long walk for the elderly or kids in the parade,” interjects Maddi.

“You can’t please everyone,” says Dr. StrangeJob. “That’s what happens when you are born on the wrong side of the tracks.”

“Enough with the cliches already!” exclaims Miss Mackie.

“Yes, I guess we can do better,” says Dr. StrangeJob. “It might be an uphill battle, but we do need to think outside of the box and perhaps make some tough decisions”. 

“Ignorance is bliss,” muses Miss Mackie.

The end.

Dr. StrangeJob and Miss Mackie

This episode was previously published in the Volume 4 edition of ‘Magine: Unama’ki / Cape Breton’s Literary Magazine

Dr. StrangeJob is a satirical blogger, retired educator, social activist, actor, screenwriter, creator of Incompetents Anonymous (IA), and interim leader of the CBLA-InComps. He can be reached at drstrangejob@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @drstrangejob or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/drstrangejob.  Previous InComps episodes can be found @ www.drstrangejob.ca.  

‘Twas the night before Caper Christmas

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‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the poorhouse
Not a politician was caring – not a photo op to boast.

The liberal entitlements were shining so bright,
The tories were preaching brimstone to the right,
While dippers stopped singing because they no longer know jack,
And the greens forgot it’s all foods that poor stomachs lack.

But there may be hope for Capers yet:
The NSEF fight for equality to make politicians regret,
The CBUP started a party to also cause fret,
CB Talkback discusses real issues of plight,
While Mary and The Spectator show us the light,
As the three wise women on Council help us unite.

While some wear hearts on their sleeves to show us what might,
Many waste efforts in rant rooms so trite,
As others gale and ward off the blight.
Heck, even StrangeJob occasionally gets it right.

As politicians continue to feed at the trough,
And bureaucrats’ reports amount to mere scoff,
Let us this Holiday enjoy what we might,
But keep focused on those not supporting our plight.

To the voters of Cape Breton politicians owe
Their support for the Island above partisan show.
If you use trickle-down as your guiding economic light,
Then expect to look for a new job next election night.

Happy Holidays

Dr. StrangeJob

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13 F#@king Days of Christmas – Part II

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Welcome to the continuing saga of The 13 F#@king Days of Christmas. You might want to checkout Part I before continuing. If not, just assume that Part II was preceded by a fairly crappy week. We last left our protagonist on his way to purchase a hunting rifle to be used on the swans, geese, birds, hens, doves, and partridge. He was not having a great week.

Day 8: Now, this is more like it. They say a mother’s breast can sooth a savage beast, and you just sent me eight milking maids. BTW – You just saved the flying flock of frenzied feathered festive gifts of Christmas day’s past. The hell with the damn birds, I am now fixated on those milking buxom beauties. Those cups are definitely more than half full.

Day 9: Did I die and go to heaven? How else to explain the nine dancing ladies that met me at my apartment door. OMG – You actually sent me nine strippers for Christmas. I am starting to think you are no longer mad at me.

Day 10: I knew it was too good to last. When I arrived home today I was met by ten leaping lords lurching round my apartment, and the buggers were leaping and jumping all over the strippers and maids. A couple of them even jumped me when I bent down to take off my shoes. I think I need to go to the hospital. On the plus side, I believe I found the missing three rings from Day 7 and one of the hamsters. Now I know how Richard Gere felt.

Day 11: Do you have any idea how much mess eleven puking pipers can make in a small apartment? Not only that, between the pipers and the leaping lords neither the strippers nor the milf-maids have any time left for me. And Christmas is supposed to be about me me me.

Day 12: All drummers should be shot. Not only do I have twelve drummers pounding their skins, they are also banging anything that moves. The pipers have been plugged, the lords can’t lay, the ladies will not be able to walk straight for weeks, and the poor maids are milked out. Not only that, I’ve been evicted, arrested for obscenity, and tested positive for all of the major STDs. And there is still bird shit everywhere.

Day 13: On the thirteenth day of Christmas my turned love sent to me: twelve twitter hacks, eleven over drafts, ten vet bills, nine Facebook photobombs, eight calling creditors, seven harassment charges, six restraining orders, five calling lawyers, four emptied bank accounts, three detectives following, two used wedding rings, and one SIGNED DIVORCE DECREE.

Have yourself a very non-marry Christmas without me, and please don’t send any birthday gifts this year.

Dr. StrangeJob

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Learn more about Dr. StrangeJob at www.drstrangejob.ca

Note: This blog was inspired by “The 12 Days of Christmas” from The Cunning Linguist by Richard Lederer. Using movie parlance, it’s probably safer to say that this version is more of a re-visioning rather than a straight-up remake. Actually, this blog has very little in common with his version, other than the twelve gifts, but my lawyer keeps pestering me about copyright infringements, so I am just covering my butt on this one. BTW – it’s a funny book.

The 13 F#@king Days of Christmas – Part I

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First Day of Christmas: Thanks for the pear tree, although I’m not sure what I am supposed to do with a pear tree in the winter. Not only that, when I opened the parcel, a partridge flew out and crapped all over my favorite David Cassidy album.

Day 2: What’s with the turtle doves? You know I have a small apartment, and the turtle doves are not acting at all happy together with that friggin’ partridge you sent yesterday.

Day 3: Enough with the damn birds already! What the f#@k am I supposed to do with three French hens? If I could catch the little buggers I would cook them, but they are running and jumping all over the goddamn apartment making a mess everywhere. BTW – I have no idea what the hens, doves, and that damn partridge are eating, but the apartment is a mess. Not only that, I can’t find my pet hamsters anywhere.

Day 4: My head feels like it is going to explode from the racket coming from those four f#@$% calling birds. You know I suffer from migraines and that I have recently been diagnosed with ornithophobia, yet you keep sending me birds. BIRDS! BIRDS! And more damned BIRDS!

Day 5: Five gold dick rings and a sarcastic note on what I should do with them is just plain rude.

Day 6: OK, I get it. You’re pissed off over something, but sending six geese dropping eggs all over the apartment is enough already. The SPCA showed up today with a search warrant, the neighbors are complaining to the landlord about the noise, and I need to get the place fumigated. I still can’t find my hamsters, the cats have gone berserk, and I can’t get three of the five dick rings out of where you told me to shove them.

Day 7: Oh my god! I hate swans and you sent me seven of the damn things. Do you have any idea what happens when you have seven swans living in your bathroom? Three are swimming in the bathtub, two are tits up in the sink, one is bobbing in the toilet bowl, and the seventh is unaccounted for. I have had enough. I am heading out to buy a hunting rifle so I can take care of the swans, geese, birds, hens, and doves. I have special plans for that damned partridge once I find the little f##%.

So ends Part 1 of The 13 F#@king Days of Christmas. Stay tuned for Part II to discover what really happens when you put 10 leaping lords in the same room with eight milking maids.

Note: This blog was inspired by “The 12 Days of Christmas” from The Cunning Linguist by Richard Lederer. Using movie parlance, it’s probably safer to say that this version is more of a re-visioning rather than a straight-up remake. Actually, this blog has very little in common with his version, other than the twelve gifts, but my lawyer keeps pestering me about copyright infringements, so I am just covering my butt on this one. BTW – it’s a funny book.

Dr. StrangeJob

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Learn more about Dr. StrangeJob at www.drstrangejob.ca