Highmoon's Ponderings

I made the following post to a forum I frequent, but I also wanted to post it here to get feedback from some folk not on that forum. Let me very clear up front that nothing in this post is against the publishers of the product.

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So yesterday, the awesome folks at Evit Hat put out Spirit of the Season, a free supplement for Spirit of the Century that’s very much holiday-season oriented. It presents Nick Saint, aka. Secret Santa, and his Reindeer Men, as they battle against a bevy of Christmas-based foes like Dr. Scrooge and Jacques Frost. The supplement is excellent, as is to be expected from EVP, and I’m both thankful to them for putting it out, and enjoying it very much. I say all this to be very clear that everything that comes below is all about me, not about Fred or EVP.

Now, when I first read that this was coming on Fred’s LJ, I asked him, “Do we get some Channukah love in there as well?” to which he replied, “Not *really*, since the idea revolves around a Santa figure.” Peachy. He then goes on to mention the product may be expanded in a for-pay version that might include some Channukah-themed pulpy goodness as well. Yay.

Cut to yesterday when I get the PDF and as I am looking through it, and enjoying the reimagining of the tropes into cool pulpy characters, I run into Stories of the Season, a series of adventure hooks, and into this (pg. 43):

CHANNUKAH IN PERIL!
At the start of Channukah, in old Palestine, in the city of Jerusalem, Baroness Blackheart has unearthed a cache of consecrated oil dated from before 70 AD and the destruction of the Temple She intends to corrupt the oil’s purpose in her alchemical pursuit of the Elixir of Life! Can Nick Saint and the Reindeer Men brave international politics and reclaim the oil from Blackheart before this holy relic is lost forever to her sinister purposes?

And immediately the grin I had on my face vanishes and I get this very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. A million thoughts are racing through my mind: Fred said there’d be no Channukah stuff in there, so why this? Santa Claus has to go save Channukah? What kind of crap is that? Why is there no Jewish pulp hero to take down the Baroness’s ass and save Channukah the way Judah Maccabee did it centuries ago? Why am I so fucking bothered by this???

Why, indeed?

I thought I was overreacting; I was going to post this last night but I said, no, let me sleep on it and see how I feel in the morning. I feel the same way.

The simple solution is to take matters into my own hands and create the aforementioned Jewish pulp hero that can defend Channukah: Agent Makav (Hammer) and Team Menorah. I’ll write it up and get some art done and voila. That part is taken care of. But that doesn’t address why I got so upset over this.

I think it’s because of the appropiation of my holiday. To wit, Channukah is not that big a deal in the Jewish holiday cycle, at all. Important, yes, but not one of the major ones. The only reason Channukah has this level of visibility is because it falls during the Christmas season and American Jewry has turned into a sort of Jewish version of Christmas, which it isn’t, at all (but that’s for another topic). Nevertheless, at a time when I can’t step out of my house without being bombarded with Christmas imagery (seriously, my neighbors across the way have this huge and very tacky inflatable snowglobe that makes the most horrendous noise), when I can’t go to buy my groceries without having to pass a pine tree honor guard, when I can’t put gas without getting an earful of “Jingle Bells” or “White Christmas” or whatever Christmas song was released by whatever pop star, Channukah is my own symbol that I can cling on for a bit of sanity. Seeing menorahs all over the place (I live in Miami Beach, so there are quite a few of us around here) raises my spirit and gives me an anchor to hold on to in a sea of wreaths and manger scenes. And just to be clear, I have nothing against Christmas; I obviously don’t celebrate it, but the rest of my family does (but again, that’s another topic).

So when I read that Santa Claus has to go all the way to Jerusalem to stop a plot to destroy Channukah, it irks me, big time. It’s not like there’s a team-up between gentile and Jewish pulp heroes to bring down evil, just the guy in red. We have been, effectively, written out of our own holiday.

And this isn’t about Evil Hat. Whoever penned that section wrote a kickass adventure seed that actually sounds very cool. This is about how I perceive it as an appropiation of my one beacon of light during December. And I still feel like that, and I don’t know what to do about it.

Am I overreacting? Fellow Jews, do you see what I’m getting at, or does it not make a difference to you? Comment away.

Monday, Dec 2, 2002

Being our last day in Ireland, we decided to take it easy and simply walk around Dublin, catching sights we had wanted to see. The first stop was Merrion Square, smack in the middle of Georgian Dublin. The square is one huge park, and inside is the statue of Oscar Wilde, one of our favorite writers. We sought it out, took a few pictures and then walked around the park, just drinking in the calm of the area. Along the edge we saw the Georgian house where W. B. Yeats had lived while a member of parliament, as well as Wilde’s childhood home.

Danny & Oscar at Merrion Square. While Wilde
may be looking a bit pale, his clothes are stylish as always.
Dec. 2, 2002

From Merrion Square we embarked on a very long walk to go see the Irish Jewish Museum, nestled in a southern residential area of Dublin, and away from everything. The walk was great in that we got to see working-day Dublin, but we were tired, and when we finally found the place, we found out it was closed. The museum changed its times of operations: it used to be closed on Sundays and open on Mondays, but they had reversed that and we were not aware of it. We took the photo below to prove we had made it there, and hiked all the way back once more, grumbling that the Irish were just making it so that we would have to return at least once more! The gall!

Signpost at the Irish Jewish Museum,
which we found out was closed only after we got there.
Dec. 2, 2002

We went next to St. Stephen’s Green, detouring to see the Bram Stoker house, and going into St. Stephen’s Green Shopping Centre for a duffel bag to carry all the extra stuff we had bought. We were in luck: we found a great bag for only €10! After we had lunch at the Green, under the monument to Yeats (a weird figure in bronze that as far as either of us could discern had no association with Yeats or his work). The weather was super windy and really cold, and even with the sun beating down, it was almost impossible to eat as our hands were freezing. We gave all our leftover pita bread to the ducks in the park, and then made a beeline for Cornucopia for some hot soup. Did we mention we liked Cornucopia?

Our afternoon was completed with our favorite pastime: book shopping! We went into used bookstores and new bookstores, only stopping because we were really tired, though not before buying like 8 new books! And for anyone who loves books, Dublin is a paradise, especially Dowson Street. So many bookstores!!! After this we went for our last meal in Dublin (guess where?) and then headed back to Dun Laoghaire to pack. We later went out for a pint, and ended up watching a football game on the TV (West Ham 0-1Southampton), going back to finish packing and going to bed at 1 am.

Sunday, Dec 1, 2002

With an early start we headed to Kilmainham Gaol, the old jail in Dublin, setting for one of the saddest episodes in Irish history. The weather was overcast, cold and windy, with rain just waiting in the sidelines to make its entrance; fitting weather for our destination. The bus dropped us off in front of a thick stone building with a single massive black door that looks like it will swallow you and never let you go. The tour took us around the jail, starting on the East Wing, or the “new” wing. Built during Victorian times, it was meant to be a more humane setting for the prisoners, and it only seems that way when compared to the older parts of the jail. The roof used to be all glass, though parts have been covered with wood for protection (see the photo below). While we followed our guide, we could all hear a gut-wrenching wailing all around us, the bona fide cry of a banshee. It had everyone on edge, and when we finally asked the guard she compared it to a banshee as well. The wind gets through the wood and the old glass panes, making the awful sound, but in this jail, it is easy to believe that it is a banshee indeed crying for those who perished here.

Kilmainham Gaol’s “new” Victorian wing was
supposed to provide a humane environment for the
prisoners. Compared to the old area, this wing was a paradise.
Dec. 1, 2002

The tour took us to the old chapel, where we saw a video on the Easter Rising and the fate of the leaders, all of whom were executed at this jail. Heartwrenching was the story of Joseph Plunkett and Grace Gifford: Plunkett was one of the captured at the Rising, and sentenced to death at the jail. He had been engaged to Ms. Gifford to be wed later the same week as the Rising. On the night before his execution, Joseph and Grace were married in the little chapel at midnight. They were given 10 minutes alone, and at 3:30 am that same day, May 5, 1916, he was executed. Grace never married again. A sad story on any day, to learn about this as we are celebrating our honeymoon filled us with sadness without end; all we could do was hold on to each other as we walked out.

Next we were taken to the old jail wing, where the cells make street latrines look like palaces. From here we went out to the work courtyards, making our way to the most remote of them, where the executions took place.

Commemorative plaque to the martyrs of the Easter
Rebellion in the work courtyard in which all were executed.
Dec. 1, 2002

It is a place filled with pathos. Here the greatest leaders the independence movement had were all cut down in one fell swoop, but also here was born the desire to finally be free. It was here that the camel’s back broke, culminating six years later in 1921 with Ireland’s independence.

These men shall forever be remembered in the history of Ireland. Their death was a
great loss, but it kick-started the process that eventually led to the independence of Ireland.
Dec. 1, 2002

We left the jail drained of energy. There was so much sadness in those rocks. The wind and rain seemed to echo our mood, and we were suddenly very glad we had chosen to do the next destination after the jail. We were headed to the Guinness Brewery, just down the road.

In Ireland if you ask for beer you get Guinness, period. It’s not so much a drink as it is a way of life, part of being Irish, and they are fiercely proud of their stout. The brewery at St. James’s Gate is the old brewery, turned now into an exhibition that makes Arthur Guinness into a wizard, an alchemist who spurned the search for the philosopher’s stone in favor of the search for the perfect stout, giving Ireland a gift of happiness in a barrel, can or bottle. It is extremely sensationalistic, but a whole lot of fun. You do get to see the process, from the choosing of the ingredients, all the way to the packaging–old and modern–and the world-famous marketing campaigns. It is all topped by a cold pint of the Black Stuff at the top of the exhibition, the gravity bar, where one can see an awesome view of Dublin while drinking the wonderful gift of the gods and Arthur Guinness.

Danny at the Guinness Brewery exhibition. Mmm… Guinness.
Dec. 1, 2002

To you, Mister Sir Arthur Guinness… slainte!!!

Danny & Yvette outside the Guinness Brewery.
Dec. 1, 2002

After this we went souvenir shopping at Carol’s right across O’Connell Bridge, and then to dinner at Juice, another vegetarian restaurant (it was ok, a bit too pricey, and not as good as Cornucopia).

Saturday, Nov 30, 2002

We used this day to relax. We woke up late, had breakfast and went out for a walk around Dun Laoghaire, eventually ending up at the stone pier, two giant stone arms jutting out to the sea, built during the Napoleonic wars in preparation for an invasion that never came.

After sundown, we headed back into Dingle to eat at the most wonderful restaurant: Cornucopia, a vegetarian place on Wicklow Street, where we sat down to have our first warm meal in our whole trip. And it was delicious! From there we headed to Temple Bar, ending up at a place called Gogerty’s Pub, where we hung out until it got way too packed for comfort, and then headed back to sleep.

Friday, Nov 29, 2002

We decided to return our car to the airport, since we didn’t need it in Dublin thanks to the DART rail system. Yet another adventure. Dublin is being modernized in everything from culture to infrastructure. That means that there were a lot (no, really, a lot) of ongoing roadwork all over the metro Dublin area. Following the signs to get to the airport from Dun Laoghaire, we ended up taking a detour due to some construction, and ended up some 10 miles south of Dublin, in some little town called Stepaside, before we realized we were lost, again. A quick stop at a petrol station and we were finally on our way, except what should have been a one-hour trip was now turning into an all-morning event. At least we got to drive pretty much all around the great ring road around greater Dublin. When we had finally returned the car, we took a bus back into the city, foot travelers once more.

Our bus dropped us off near the Post Office, so we decided to stop there. This was the scene of the Easter Rising of 1916, when a band of patriots took over the Post Office, declaring the independence of Ireland from British rule. We’d see more of this band of rebels later. The inside, while still functioning as a post office, also serves as a kind of museum, with signs pointing various locations. We didn’t go in; it as too crowded. Outside, however, once can still see the bullet holes made 87 years ago on that fateful Easter Monday. The very famous memorial to the Rising, the statue of Cuchulain, is visible from the outside. There is something wrong with that statue, however…

The statue is a reference to the death of Cuchulain, when faced with insurmountable odds in his final battle, he ties himself to a pillar stone with his belt in order to face death standing tall instead of lying down. It is the greatest symbol of defiance, of stubbornness, and the archetype of the Irish warrior. But this statue depicts Cuchulain slumped against the rock, defeated in death. It has been turned into a Christ figure, and emptied of all its burning inner fire. I understand why the Christ allusion was used, but to us it cheapens the legend, the myth, and the memory of those who fought and died Chuchulain-like against insurmountable odds, refusing to lay down their lives in submission.

From the Post Office we walked down to Trinity College, salivating at the idea of our next destination: the Book of Kells exhibition. The Book of Kells, briefly, is a collection of the four gospels of the New Testament, written in Latin, and created sometime in the 8th or 9th century by monks living in the fringes of the known world. It is the finest example of art from the so-called Dark Ages, but more than that, it is a legacy of the love of books that these monks had, the same love that would lead them to make copies not only of the gospels, but of other books of antiquity, thus preserving the knowledge of the classic period for posterity.

Unfortunately they do not allow photos to be taken at the Book of Kells exhibition,
so here’s the cover of the little book we bought at Trinity College on the Book of Kells.
Nov. 29, 2002

Housed in the old library at Trinity College, the exhibition begins with an incredible and excellent introduction called “Turning Darkness Into Light”, an exhibition on the process of book-making in the early Middle Ages. It is well-documented and it gives you information on everything, from the selection of skins for vellum, to the writing and illuminating process, to the binding process, putting the book in its historical and cultural context. It is all geared towards making you truly appreciate what you are about to see. Any bibliophile like us will love the exhibition, but they are sure to love even more the actual book, which is where we, the literary foreplay all done with, headed next.

At any given time you see, displayed under thick glass, two different pages of the Book of Kells, plus two pages from four other historical books of the same period. On this day, we saw the Portrait of St. John (pictured on the book above) and the page with the genealogy of Jesus (Luke 1, 23-38). Most everyone would come in and look around the display, spending a few minutes at most; we went in, picked a spot, and got nose-to-the-glass close in order to truly see the magnificent artistry. Even after almost 700 years, you can still see the brushstrokes on the paint, the marks of the quill as it etched its way on the vellum, the tiny pores on the calfskin page. The colors are still vibrant and time has been kind to the work, allowing us to see all these details. Just as one is able to see the hand of God in nature, there are works that allow one to see the hand of God as manifested through the artist; the Book of Kells is such a work. Christian or not, one has to admit that there was divinity guiding this work of art, inspiring it, and preserving it for future generations. That said, God has a sense of humor, so do watch out for all the little scenes drawn in by the illuminators, scenes of sexual romps, of earthly delights, of pure joy of life. They make for an interesting game of hide-and-seek amidst the centuries-old illuminations.

After this we headed back to the B&B as sundown was approaching and Shabbat was about to start.

Thursday, Nov 28, 2002

From Belfast we headed south, Dublin being our final destination, but not before stopping at a site some 30 miles north and about 5000 years in the past: the mythical Bru na Boinne, the valley of the river Boyne, with its famous tomb of Newgrange.