If you didn’t get a Christmas card from me this year please don’t be offended. Nobody did.
I could blame the notoriously slow postal system from the Caymans but I think I’ll be truthful and just explain that I don’t really celebrate Christmas. No, I’m not one of those people who are rampantly politically correct and feel the need to chastise others if they greet you with anything other than “Happy Non-denominational-and-non-value-judgement-of-your-personal-beliefs Holidays”. I just have had a run of rather unpleasant December 25ths and it has made me into the Grinch.
The first Christmas I actually remember I was 7 years old and my entire town was wiped out by a cyclone (Southern Hemisphere Hurricane). Cyclone Tracy flattened Darwin on Christmas Eve and the early hours of Christmas Day 1974. Literally flattened. There was very little left standing and “Tracy” set new records for wind speeds and devastation. At least, we think it was a record for wind speed but since it broke the wind speed meter nobody is technically sure how fast the winds were. Fast enough to destroy everything though. For a 7 year old it was pretty scary and not not one of my happy memories.
Then of course, being a veterinarian, I spent about 25 years on-call on Christmas. Some Christmas call-outs were fun, and there were a few times I was invited in to share Christmas pudding after the work was done, one lady even made sure there was a gift under her tree for me by the time I had finished treating her sick horse. But sadly not many times were like that. People are rarely grateful to their vets when we show up to treat their pet and Christmas seems to magnify that effect. After all, their Christmas Day is being ruined by a sick animal needing attention and the vet is the focus of all of that. It must somehow be our fault. And then of course, the fact that we actually charge for being called out on a holiday seems to drive people crazy, especially those who have spent all of their money on gifts for the family, ugly sweaters and eggnog. Eggnog which I don’t get to drink if you’ve put even a drop of rum in it, incidentally, since I’m always on call. I’m not whining, much anyway, just explaining why I’ve had some really ugly Christmas Days. (Though the day my pager told me I had clients with an ‘iced up’ swan that had fallen into the middle of their Christmas Day celebration was rather a fun one.)
I suppose I could just solider on, force myself to hang tinsel and wrap resents under the tree and hope that one day the magic will kick in and I’ll work out what all the fuss is about, but it seems statistically unlikely that it will suddenly happen this late in life. So I’ve decided to move all of that untapped seasonal goodwill and joy to a season that means more to me personally. That’s right: World Fiddle Day. It makes perfect sense. I live and breathe fiddles and fiddle music, so why shouldn’t that be the day I celebrate more than others? Why shouldn’t May 16th be the day I tell my family I love them and share goodwill and joy at being so lucky to have so many blessings (fiddle and non-fiddle related) in my life?
Of course, there will have to be a few adjustments made. No tree for a start. I’m going to need a giant fiddle in the center of my lounge room, but I’ll still hang tinsel all over it and lots of little dangling things. Perhaps if I use music notes as ornaments after the [new] traditional Fiddle Day meal we could all try to play the notes in order. I see the tradition of getting a little tipsy and “playing the tree” really kicking off.
The traditional meal will have to be altered though. I think a truly traditional meal for Fiddle Day would probably be beer and ramen noodles because that’s all we can afford after spending every spare penny on new fiddles, bows, rosin and, um, more fiddles to be truthful. But it will be beer and noodles made especially nicely, just like Mama never made in fact.
Of course the main centerpiece of my new holiday will be playing music. Once we’ve all symbolically “played the tree” we’ll then play well into the night. Perhaps a new tradition for Fiddle Day will be sending cards with a symbolically red finger print in the corner- symbolizing playing until our fingers bleed. It will be fun writing the cards too because there are just so many fabulous opportunities for music related seasonal greeting puns. “Feeling flat without you here on Fiddle Day”, “I’d rather play in D# minor than celebrate Fiddle Day without you”, “I’ll string you up if you don’t say you’ll come and spend Fiddle Day with me” etc. (OK, Hallmark are going to need to polish these a bit before they really take off, but I think I’m onto something, don’t you?)
Every season needs one truly silly tradition though (Easter EGGS from rabbits?), so mine for Fiddle Day will be the delightfully fun exchanging of old slippers filled with rosin. Nobody’s really sure why, but it is [will be] charming and folky and people can spend all year decorating their slippers and collecting used ends of rosin cakes (finally, something to do with those cakes that get dropped and shatter, hurrah) to fill the slippers with. Frankly, it’s going to be the best holiday ever.
Of course, you may not agree with me that Fiddle Day is the most important day of the year. You’re welcome to your own beliefs, and we’ve already got a way of coping with that just extrapolated straight from Christmas actually. When I say “Happy Fiddle Day” to you, you just smile and say “Happy Holiday” straight back to me. I’ll know that you don’t share my belief in fiddling but you do share my friendship. And I’ll return the favor to you when you see me in the street and shout excitedly “Happy Banjo Day”. After all, that’s what the holidays are all about. Anyway, can’t stand around typing all day, I’ve got slippers to fill and cards to fingerprint-don’t forget to check your mail in May, you just might make it onto my list, if you’ve practiced enough that is.
