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How Tony Caulfield Celebrated Christmas on Oct. 10
by Tony Caulfield, 12.10.2006
Admittedly, on the list of all the significant
events October 10 is known for, "Christmas Eve" does not rank quite well.
On October 10, 2006 the annual "World Day Against the Death
Penalty" is observed by raising awareness on five individual cases from
China, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria and the U.S. According to Amnesty
International four of these countries accounted for 94% of the world's executions
in 2005.
Filmmaker and unintentional dadaist Ed Wood, who posthumously
received a Golden Turkey Award as "Worst Director of All Time", was born on an
October 10 (1924) and his great idol Orson Welles - being what sadly applies to
some artists: a symbiosis of a brilliant creative mind and a rotten character
(as it's well known that Welles adored the atrocity of bullfighting) - died on
that date (1985).
And since 1992, World
Mental Health Day is marked annually on October 10, aimed at improving the
quality of mental health services throughout the world.
Contrary to what
this article's headline might suggest, my own mental health is excellent.
(By the way: thanks to all who inquired about my health and security. Whatever
speculations are out there at the moment: I'm well and protected. No need to worry,
but I won't issue any specific public statements on the current situation as of
yet. The events that caused me to withdraw for a while are subject of my new book
to be published near the end of 2006.)
[Addendum, October 10, 2007: Meanwhile,
the abovementioned book is available. It's titled Du
mußt sühnen - Dokumentation eines psychologischen Mordversuchs (You must expiate
- Documentation of a psychological murder attempt).]
So how precisely
do "sanity" and "celebrating Christmas in October" go together? Tell me who knows
and I tell you who cares. Now light the fireplace and have some Christmas cookies
with mulled wine or eggnog, cause here comes my Christmas story for you.
'Twas the 9th of October...and little did I know Santa was loading the sleigh
and yoking the reindeer early this year, when I tried to relax from a lengthy
discussion on a "potential increase in security risk". We had come to the conclusion
that some more of what had chanced this year was going to happen...and we are
well prepared.
In spite of the latter, my mood didn't allow for much "spirit
of Christmas" feelings. As Halloween - amongst other things - is near, there was
more of a "feast of death"-energy to be sensed.
I watched Zimmer
Frei, a German show that's quite an interesting format, incorporating some
old "Dame Edna" elements as well as hilariously stupid gameshow-parody segments
and hosted by both a professionally funny comedian who's also a talented musician
and one authentically (and most of the time involuntarily) funny lady who's also
extremely talented in being herself and asking questions such as "would you say
that who practices isn't talented and who rehearses is a coward?"
They got
one guest per show and that night it was vocalist and musician Inga
Rumpf whose great voice had lead her to well-deserved 40 years of international
success.
Around 1:00 a.m. the show was over and I just considered going
to bed early when I heard some kind of faint noise outside the house. Since the
alarm hadn't gone off it didn't look like a case of intrusion, so far. I did what
the narrator of The
Night Before Christmas (and the typical victim in an average horror movie)
does and went to see what was the matter.
To not pre-announce my coming
to whomever might have been outside, I didn't turn on the exterior light and quietly
went out through the main entrance, armed and ready to expect unpleasant things
to happen. What appeared to my wondering eyes were two packages placed on the
stairs that lead up to the main entrance.
My first thought was along the lines
of "if there isn't a very good explanation apparent for why this was placed in
front of my home in the middle of the night, I will instantly call the police,
not touch the packages and evacuate the area." Sadly, the idea that somebody would
like me to die so much to build what would likely have been the most obvious mailbomb
ever, is not that far-fetched.
There was no person visible. I turned on the lights now
to have a closer look at the packages before touching anything or having a SWAT
team over. (Anybody seen "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation"?).
Both cardboard
boxes were were tied up with green laces; the black box on top had a memo attached
to it, reading "For Tony". Next, I took a closer look at the flat box below and
noticed it was decorated with a "floating" cardboard angel (stuck on a wooden
shashlik skewer), a green cardboard Xmas tree with red globes and a yellow star
on top, and labeled with red marker: "Merry Christmas".
"No you haven't
done that. I don't believe it", I exclaimed. Oh yes, they have. My blood sisters
Judith and Franziska whom I'd first met at a friend's horseback riding and quarter
horse breeding ranch and who have become more than true friends to me this year,
had obviously remembered our little plan to celebrate Christmas much earlier this
year, as yet another testimony of our "special" sense of humor that had long ago
started to become severely pythonesque.
We had contemplated getting a
tree, decorating it, handing out Christmas food and drink to everybody of the
ranch team, wishing them a Merry Christmas...all on one of these hot summer days
we had this year. Then the summer had suddenly drowned in monsoon-like rain and
lightning, so we canceled the project due to lack of an extreme contrast to what
people in our region usually associate with Christmas.
But that night,
when I hadn't expected it, Judith and Franzi had played Santa Claus. Unable to
get the big grin off my face, I brought my Christmas presents inside and started
to unpack the flat package first. What it contained was both hilarious and touching.
The two had made me the keeper of all our wonderful collective memories, represented
by a collection of our little "works of art" that we had created in our "creative
breaks" at the ranch in between horseback riding and taking care of the horses
- and all of them were combined into one big mixed media actual work of art.
Glued to a cardboard, there were a burnt stick (alluding to how much I love
making fire*...and if it's just in an ash-tray on the table); a note "breeding
station", that we had once used to "advertise the ranch's services"...by placing
it in Franzi's hair while she had been on the phone; a playing card with a piggy
on it that had once obligated the one drawing it to have a drink (the first "drinking
game" of my life since I've never been part of a German student fraternity); a
list with special acronyms and their meaning; a cartoon I had drawn once; a postcard
showing a green Absinthe fairy;...
...a painting of our "triumvirate
symbol" with the motto of our blood brother-/blood sisterhood written over it
with their own blood ("mixtura sanguinis nostri, nos coniugat in aeternam" - "the
mixing of our blood unites us in eternity"); wax containing our fingerprints;
a hidden get-well-letter (since I had some minor posttraumatic stress disorder
symptoms lately); hair from both of them and from quarter horse mare Rock Zan,
and some more items meaningful to us.
In addition, they had painted onto
the cardboard e.g. one eye for each of us, an anarchy symbol, a pentagram (to
shield us from evil, which was the traditional meaning, NOT as a "satanic symbol")
and an All-Seeing Eye (a mystic symbol for a higher power that protects and illuminates
us), Easter eggs (very fitting for Octoberly Christmas), a sun, a campfire*, and
a coal drawing of "Raffaella", which is our nickname for the character "Zalunga"
from my first book (Das
Buch des Wahns - a collection of splatterpunk/horror stories) cause she had
gaps in her teeth (="Zahnraffeln" in German slang).
Using coal and sticking
a piece of it to the cardboard was yet another reference to my love of fire*.
The little angel had been made by Christine, Judith's younger daughter.
The other package was a shoebox - obviously an allusion to my obsession with certain
types of "rubber sole shoes" such as sneakers and especially "chucks". What I
found inside were some useful items and - written on the inside of the lid - instructions:
Put the candles on the empty bottle. Light the fire. Drink the full champagne
bottle to get your cardiovascular system going. Music for a good mood. A horseshoe
cause it means good luck.
There was also a drawing Franzi had once made, then
torn apart and that was puzzled/glued together by me again; an old issue of the
ranch's own newspaper and "The Responsibility" ("for a reasonable handling of
fire"*), which is a miniature Cat o' Nine Tails (a whipping device), with "The
Responsibility", "The Justice" and "The Expiation" written on it.
Soon
after unpacking, Judith and I phoned till 2:00, while she had an internet conference
with Franzi going at the same time. I was incredibly happy to have learnt - once
again - that somebody would put so much effort in making me happy...and they were
both happy to have achieved just that.
After all that had occured lately,
this new one of many proofs of true friendship, a nice sense of humor and creativity
had made me euphoric for a few hours, followed by a feeling of calmness and determination
to survive whatever else might come my way.
_________
*I guess it
looks like I'm some kind of pyromaniac. Truth be told: I love making fire since
I was a kid. We used to make large campfires on a piece of land owned by my family
since three generations. However, I don't set houses aflame. No, really, I don't.
Not even garages.
Another silly anecdote that came to my mind while seeing
all the allusions to "fire-loving":
Last year, there was a
(frequently drunk) pastor's garage set on fire in the street where I live. No,
it wasn't me. Looking back, I assume it might have been either a mullet-wearing
fellow who was amongst the bystanders and whom nobody knew, or - which would be
more fascinating and probably a good inspiration for a novel - an equally unidentified
young, harmless-looking lady with cute curls (and sneakers!) whom I saw leave...and
suddenly having a big, mysterious grin on her face as she looked back at the fire
one more time.
When I once told Judith that little story (while making
fire), she suggested that the lady had certainly grinned cause she thought I were
the pyromaniac...since it were impossible to not see the "joy in my eyes" whenever
I get to look at fire.
On Christmas Eve, October 10, 2006, I thought
it possible that somebody might try to burn down my house or fire at me. At the
end of the day, the only fire present that night was in my heart. I'm happy to
have friends/blood sisters like these. You light my fire in these dark times.
Thank you.
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
P.S.: There is actually a group called Christmas In October. It's
a volunteer program that helps elderly and disabled homeowners to repair their
houses. Here is a link to their website:
http://www.christmasinoctober.org
Writing
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