If you're one of my Dutch or Belgian readers, you might have woken up this morning and thought about the cold you'll have to bike through, or the meal you're going to be cooking tonight before you even realized that today is Halloween. You might have decided to decorate your home with pumpkins galore, or thought of it as yet another ridiculous American holiday trying to make it on the other side of the ocean. If you're an American living overseas, you might have woken up this morning and realized that although you bought bags and bags of candy, you won't be having any trick or treaters coming to your door,and so you'll be left fighting the urge to eat all those fun-size Snickers and Milikyways yourself all night long.
In case you were expecting the next sentence to start with "If you're an American living stateside" and then state something generalized about the American Halloween experience, I'm sorry to let you down. Because last Monday I realized more than ever that there is no such thing as "The" American, just as there is no such thing as the typical American Halloween experience. In fact, if you live in the south, it is very well possible that you grew up believing Halloween is as evil as, oh, telling someone to shut up.
I always knew that there were Southern Baptists who objected to the celebration of Halloween. The fact that the celebration centers on kids in costumes who spend most of the night and the following days on a sugar high as a result of all the candy consumed on October 31st is irrelevant to them. In their opinion, Halloween has clear pagan roots, celebrates a spirit world unrelated to Jesus and God, and therefore reeks of idol-or in some more fundamentalist cases- devil-worshipping. Yes ma'am. Not to be persuaded by the argument that Halloween could be based on the Catholic "All Hallows' Eve" as much as it could be related to the Pagan feast of Samhain, they forbid their children from dressing up and going trick or treating. In their never-ending quest to save as many souls as possible, they usually refuse to hand out candy to other children as well. Instead, parents of little children dressed as princesses, Spidermen, or a milk carton are left to explain the signs posted on the doors of these unbelievers in Halloween, which usually sport supportive texts like "No candy here! God Bless You!", or "Halloween is not a Godly celebration!".
Instead of celebrating Halloween, then, many of these Southern Baptists attend "Harvest festivals" at their local churches, where bouncy castles, pony rides, best costume contests, and the oddly named "trunk or treat" are available to entertain their children. It looks like Halloween, it talks like Halloween, it walks like Halloween, but since we're not calling it Halloween, the God of the southern baptists approves.
But this past Monday, when attending another life group session at a local church, I realized that there is yet an entirely different group of believers out there. People who reject Halloween as much as these southern baptists do, but for a completely different reason. These Christians, you see, use October 31 to celebrate Reformation Day.
Reformation Day, for those of you unfortunate enough to be Roman Catholic, Jewish, or heavens forbid, atheist, marks the day that Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the church in Heidelberg. It thus marks the birth of today's protestant movement, and apparently there is an entire subculture of Christians who choose to celebrate this in lieu of Halloween or the Harvest Festival.
When responding to my question about what they would be doing on Wednesday, one of the husbands responded that he always used that day to hand out copies of the 95 theses to his Catholic friends and colleagues. Not understanding why he would do that, I asked why.
"Why, it's Reformation Day, of course!" The pastor's wife explained, and after a few moments, it clicked for me. Reformation Day. Of course.
The pastor's wife went on to wax lyrical about the little Martin Luther costumes they had made for their children. Since a day without sarcasm is a day not lived, and really, who needs friends?, I joined in with the very cynical and not-to-be-taken serious comment, "Oh, you should totally re-enact the nailing of the 95 theses on Wednesday night, that would be so cool".
Husband-dear, who senses the sarcasm, shot me a slightly warning look, but fortunately, the mom whom the comment was addressed to, didn't notice, "Oh wow, that's such a great idea! I think we'll totally do that!"
I smiled a Cheshire cat smile, and added I was always happy to come up with interesting ideas.
So, happy Reformation Day everyone, and make sure you check out the 95 theses today.
To all my Catholic, Jewish, Mormon, Atheist, Agnostic, or people with a sense of humor, rest assured, we will be lighting our pumpkins and handing out candy tonight. We'll just keep some copies of those theses on hand in case the pastor stops by.
Showing posts with label really. Show all posts
Showing posts with label really. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
An ode to my travel mug
The one utensil that, in my opinion, is almost as American as hot dogs and crackerjacks (and yes, apple pie I suppose), is the travel mug. Not only do most people in my world own one of these nifty inventions, all cars are outfitted for two, if not three of these mugs, every institution who thinks at least a little of herself will have a travel mug with its logo, and you can't go to any conference without departing with a be-logo-ed travel mug.
What makes the travel mug even more American, in my opinion, is the fact that of all the countries I have lived in, worked in, or traveled to, the US is the only one that has a mug solely for the purpose of carrying hot, caffeinated drinks to be consumed during one's drive. Sure, if you're Dutch, you might argue that the thermos serves the same purpose. In fact, you might love your thermos as much as I love my travel mug. However, while you have a slight point there, the thermos is completely unsuitable for car use. As anyone who has ever tried to pour a drink in a driving vehicle knows, it's nearly impossible to do so without serious spillage, even if you're just the passenger. Imagine the mess that would ensue if you were actually trying to drive and pour some of that hot cocoa from your thermos into the nice, round lid you have perched between your knees.
But in spite of the serious drawbacks of the thermos, Europeans have never really taken to the travel mug. That sturdy, tall cup with a lid that opens and closes and a nifty handle or conveniently ergonomically shaped body. I wondered why this was, for a while, as Dutch people drink as much coffee as their American counterparts, and should therefore, technically, vow by their travel mug.
After some consideration, I came to the conclusion that it all has to do with the length of the average European drive (or lack thereof), the fact that everyone there wants to be a race car driver, and thus drives stick, and the odd truth that all your fellow commuters' sole purpose in life appears to be to try and put a dent in your hood or fender. I think we can all agree that none of these are conducive to driving while handling a travel mug, no matter how convenient the non-slip surface is.
When I first started commuting in the US, I realized, however, that there was no stick, no crazy cyclists on a suicide mission, and no nine-lane roundabouts, and subsequently, no need to gulp my hot tea down before I left home. The ease of getting to work and school meant I could easily consume my morning caffeine while getting there. So I purchased my very first travel mug. Do you remember buying your first travel mug? Because I do. It was a momentous occasion. Walking down the street with my brand new travel mug, I truly felt like a real American. Because, as we all know, no American goes without their travel mug.
I remember it as though it was only yesterday. It was a decade ago, and I was at an Einstein Bagels, ordering my morning tea. I spotted a tan mug with a handle and a nifty slide that allowed you to open the lid with the same hand that was holding the mug. It looked extremely convenient. But what really sold me on it was the text on the mug: "No coffee, no peace. Know coffee, know peace." I was sold. And so was the mug.
Eleven years later, you can barely read the words on the mug, and the color on the mug has faded too. Apparently, one of my lip glosses is seriously toxic, as the lid has some red stains on it (even after approximately hundred washes), and the mug isn't entirely spill proof either, as evidenced by the occasional tea stain on my work shirts. Over the past few months, I've had to come to the realization that, yes, it is indeed time for a new travel mug.
But here's the thing. I love my travel mug. That travel mug has been there for me through thick and thin, PhD defenses, new jobs, traffic and cop-shooting-deer, rain, sleet, and hail. I've tried other mugs, ones with no handle, ones with a top you pop open, ones with logos you can actually read, but none of them work as well as my ancient travel mug. There is just something incredibly convenient about having a handle that allows you to use your thumb to open the top, something that no contemporary travel mug has. So for the longest time, I was able to ward off husband-dear's warnings about germs, diseases, and general malaise with the argument that no other mug would work as well.
Until this weekend. This weekend, our chaplain gave me a new shiny travel mug. It's blue, doesn't have a handle, but it does have a readable logo (although "AF SARC "Sexual assault is never OK" is obviously not half as cool as the now invisible "know coffee, know peace"), and a nice rubber pad on the bottom. Faithful as I am to my old travel mug, I told husband-dear that there was no way I was going to like that mug, so I wasn't going to use it. But then, on Monday morning, something strange happened. When I reached into the cupboard for my travel mug, my hand bypassed my old travel mug, and reached for my brand new travel mug instead. I'm still not sure why, but I did. Perhaps it was the idea of wandering around campus carrying a mug with a statement about violence against women that did it. Or maybe the bright shiny color drew my eyes. I don't know. But the bad part was that I liked the mug. Liked it as in I used it again this morning.
So now my good old travel mug sits all alone by itself in our cupboard, ousted by its politically correct younger cousin. Perhaps it's time for it to retire, but we've been through so much together, it just doesn't seem right. Does anyone know of a good retirement home for old, used travel mugs?
What makes the travel mug even more American, in my opinion, is the fact that of all the countries I have lived in, worked in, or traveled to, the US is the only one that has a mug solely for the purpose of carrying hot, caffeinated drinks to be consumed during one's drive. Sure, if you're Dutch, you might argue that the thermos serves the same purpose. In fact, you might love your thermos as much as I love my travel mug. However, while you have a slight point there, the thermos is completely unsuitable for car use. As anyone who has ever tried to pour a drink in a driving vehicle knows, it's nearly impossible to do so without serious spillage, even if you're just the passenger. Imagine the mess that would ensue if you were actually trying to drive and pour some of that hot cocoa from your thermos into the nice, round lid you have perched between your knees.
But in spite of the serious drawbacks of the thermos, Europeans have never really taken to the travel mug. That sturdy, tall cup with a lid that opens and closes and a nifty handle or conveniently ergonomically shaped body. I wondered why this was, for a while, as Dutch people drink as much coffee as their American counterparts, and should therefore, technically, vow by their travel mug.
After some consideration, I came to the conclusion that it all has to do with the length of the average European drive (or lack thereof), the fact that everyone there wants to be a race car driver, and thus drives stick, and the odd truth that all your fellow commuters' sole purpose in life appears to be to try and put a dent in your hood or fender. I think we can all agree that none of these are conducive to driving while handling a travel mug, no matter how convenient the non-slip surface is.
When I first started commuting in the US, I realized, however, that there was no stick, no crazy cyclists on a suicide mission, and no nine-lane roundabouts, and subsequently, no need to gulp my hot tea down before I left home. The ease of getting to work and school meant I could easily consume my morning caffeine while getting there. So I purchased my very first travel mug. Do you remember buying your first travel mug? Because I do. It was a momentous occasion. Walking down the street with my brand new travel mug, I truly felt like a real American. Because, as we all know, no American goes without their travel mug.
I remember it as though it was only yesterday. It was a decade ago, and I was at an Einstein Bagels, ordering my morning tea. I spotted a tan mug with a handle and a nifty slide that allowed you to open the lid with the same hand that was holding the mug. It looked extremely convenient. But what really sold me on it was the text on the mug: "No coffee, no peace. Know coffee, know peace." I was sold. And so was the mug.
Eleven years later, you can barely read the words on the mug, and the color on the mug has faded too. Apparently, one of my lip glosses is seriously toxic, as the lid has some red stains on it (even after approximately hundred washes), and the mug isn't entirely spill proof either, as evidenced by the occasional tea stain on my work shirts. Over the past few months, I've had to come to the realization that, yes, it is indeed time for a new travel mug.
But here's the thing. I love my travel mug. That travel mug has been there for me through thick and thin, PhD defenses, new jobs, traffic and cop-shooting-deer, rain, sleet, and hail. I've tried other mugs, ones with no handle, ones with a top you pop open, ones with logos you can actually read, but none of them work as well as my ancient travel mug. There is just something incredibly convenient about having a handle that allows you to use your thumb to open the top, something that no contemporary travel mug has. So for the longest time, I was able to ward off husband-dear's warnings about germs, diseases, and general malaise with the argument that no other mug would work as well.
Until this weekend. This weekend, our chaplain gave me a new shiny travel mug. It's blue, doesn't have a handle, but it does have a readable logo (although "AF SARC "Sexual assault is never OK" is obviously not half as cool as the now invisible "know coffee, know peace"), and a nice rubber pad on the bottom. Faithful as I am to my old travel mug, I told husband-dear that there was no way I was going to like that mug, so I wasn't going to use it. But then, on Monday morning, something strange happened. When I reached into the cupboard for my travel mug, my hand bypassed my old travel mug, and reached for my brand new travel mug instead. I'm still not sure why, but I did. Perhaps it was the idea of wandering around campus carrying a mug with a statement about violence against women that did it. Or maybe the bright shiny color drew my eyes. I don't know. But the bad part was that I liked the mug. Liked it as in I used it again this morning.
So now my good old travel mug sits all alone by itself in our cupboard, ousted by its politically correct younger cousin. Perhaps it's time for it to retire, but we've been through so much together, it just doesn't seem right. Does anyone know of a good retirement home for old, used travel mugs?
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