Kids today

No news from our neighbours. Hm. Oooh, I hope it things aren't too bad over there... My grandma called the ambulance a few times a few years ago, after her dizzy spell, and stayed in the local hospital for a few days each time, but it was nothing serious - and people do tend to get more worried even about minor things when they get older. Ooh, I hope it's like that.

On my way back home today I saw an idyllic scene that can probably only be found in Poppenbüttel's housing areas around five o'clock in the evening. It was in the abandoned little area next to the path, a concrete square with a park bench, which is for some reasons kept separate from the path by high hedges. I was on my way back from the bus stop, going through the housing area round the corner, and I saw two cute little boys, both twelve or fourteen years old, who were frolicking and playing in the darkness.

Bloody toasting each other with deodorant and lighters.
In the darkness, I saw one of the guys actually point a lighter at the other, lighting it, bright orange flames licking over the other boy's sweater, who backed away, giving a small yelp of surprise.

I had already heard their screams and yelps all the time during my five-minute walk through the housing area and had already readied myself for the worst, taken out my mobile, unlocked the key pad, ready to press 110, my head filled with dreadful scenes from the Kitty Genovese case.
Pretty shocked, I stopped and asked what the hell they thought they were up to.
"Nothing!" Of course not.
Boy 1 (the one who had been grilled by his friend earlier): "We're just playing."
Boy 2: "You know, with the fire and the deodorant..."
Me: "Hey, you do know that's dangerous, don't you? That did look dangerous, the way your sweater nearly caught fire just now!"
Boy 1: "Naah, it doesn't really catch fire."
Me: "Oh, really?"
Boy 1: "Really, see, it's made from a really resistant material."
Me: "Still, do point the things away from you body, understand?"
Both: "Yeah, yeah."
Me: "Seriously, it's hot! And dangerous!"
Boy 2: "Nah, it's not really dangerous."
Boy 1: "Yeah, we're careful."
Me: "Hmm..."
Both: "Really!"
Me: "Remember - away from the body."
Both: "Yeah, yeah."

And off they went, quickly. Maybe I ought to have stuck around for a while, to see if one of the two would catch fire, but I didn't. I do regret it now. And although I could have sworn that even though I did look closely, as close as the light of that streetlight would permit, for signs of uneasiness or distress, there did not seem to be any. I feared one of the two would be bullied, but it did not look like that... Ooooh, I hope they won't burn each other...

I found Jesus!

Rejoice with me! Now our Christmas festivities will no longer feel as though there was something missing. My family and I have been looking for him quite a while now, and finally, this year, there will be no strange substitutes any more! He was in a basket on the upstairs corridor all along, buried among old wrapping paper that had piled up in it for a reason.

Don't worry, I am talking about the wooden figurine from our nativity set. I know these things are dangerously kitschy, but they are part of my Christmasses like the tree, like the annual fights, like wobbling cassettes with carols because none of us can sing, like the smell of pine and the fight about who is going to try and untangle the fairy lights this year, who tangled them last year, whose fault everything is, etc.

Edit: Take that, you Christians with your leaflets on campus who assume that everybody around you must be a heathen fiend.
Now, when they go, "Have you found Jesus?" I can always go, "Oh, yeah, he was in the basket in the corridor all along, but thanks for asking!"

The little wooden baby Jesus belongs to my grandmother and has been part of Christmas for longer than I can remember. It was a magical and special treat to be allowed to help her setting it up, and especially to place the holy family in the stable - although I have to admit that I was much more preoccupied with the donkey and the oxen as a child than with, say, Joseph.

After me and my mother had moved to another house with my father (who had been living in Hannover prior to that for job reasons), my mother and I made our own, with ceramic, self-painted figurines. Oh, I can remember painting those sheep! They are easy, and easy enough for a six- or seven-years-old. Our five shepherds had a flock of five apologetic, forlorn sheep in the beginning, but by and by, the flock grew to a couple of dozen. The same happened to the multitude of the heavenly host, which was, at first, actually only one host, and because we did not have anything for him to stand on, he had to stand on the roof of the stable. He's got lots of company, now. I loved painting the angels. Due to my expert taste in colours, most of them do not only have silver wings, but also are wearing bright, pink or green garments.
The one my grandmother has is not colourful, it's made from wood, and my grandfather built the little stable himself. My grandmother always has the three magi advancing a little every day, and only has them reach the manger on Epiphany. I remember checking in on them every day, to see how they were getting on, how far they still had to go until they would reach the stable.

Sometimes I think that the Christmasses at my grandparent's were the only times, with the possible exception of last year, when Christmas actually felt right, and not just like one, big awful family gathering that everyone wants to be over as soon as possible.
In Crocky's fairy-tale family, the house is full of people who love each other so much it actually becomes visible in their eyes, especially at Christmas, people are actually happy it's Christmas, happy to see each other, not faintly worried, and there is always, always music - half-played piano tunes, or carols, violins from rooms upstairs, brass instruments...
In my family, there are always fights at Christmas, fights and wounds and tempers and tantrums and tears, and I am always glad when Christmas is finally, finally over. The atmosphere is always tense and uncomfortable, and everyone draws back a little more into their shell, ready for the attacks the others might want to levy on them, because emotions are running high.

The holy family in their stable is actually quite lucky, I faintly remember thinking once, because the stable does not have any doors, and there are lots of people looking in on them, and people always behave better when there are strangers around.