There’s Mountain Dew in that cup of cheer

ROBERT GARDNER

I’m not exactly Ebenezer Scrooge. I don’t stand on my rooftop

shouting, “Bah, humbug,” as the holidays approach. I don’t think I

could get up on the roof at my age, but if I could, that wouldn’t be

my purpose.

At the same time, I don’t exactly go out of my way to celebrate

the holidays, either. I suppose my attitude could be characterized as

benign indifference. Why one Thursday people should bustle to work

and another Thursday they should stuff themselves with food has

always puzzled me.

Katy, my wife, loved holidays, and my lack of enthusiasm was a

sore point. I’d wander in to find the house transformed, lights

everywhere. Let’s see. Lights. That means it must be ...

“Christmas, Bob,” she’d snap. “It must be Christmas!”

So if it was Christmas, that meant I had to go shopping. What

agony. I wandered around stores aimlessly, not having the slightest

idea what I should buy, only knowing that whatever I bought would be

returned. The only time this didn’t happen was when I bought her a

wig, and that’s only because wigs are not returnable. I thought

platinum blond would be a nice change for her. She said it made her

look like a hooker.

Finally, after 40 years of failure in the gift department, I gave

up. That Christmas, I put a couple of $100 bills in an envelope and

put it under the tree. She said it was the best present I’d ever

given her.

My gifts didn’t stack up so badly when we got to Samoa, where I

once worked as a judge. There, any time you are invited to any kind

of ceremony, you receive gifts that are prescribed by tradition,

albeit a somewhat bastardized tradition.

Originally, these ceremonies, or fa’alavelaves, were simple

affairs. People gathered, kava was prepared, and a coconut, a

chicken, some taro, a piece of tapa cloth and a fine mat were given

to the guest. If it was a big enough affair, a roast pig might also

be given.

Today, the gifts have changed slightly. In place of a coconut,

guests receive a can of soda pop, usually Mountain Dew. Instead of an

actual chicken, they get a can of chicken wings. A box of crackers

substitutes for the taro. How these particular substitutes have been

chosen, I have no idea.

Then, in place of tapa, one receives a couple of yards of cotton

cloth, usually from Taiwan. This is more understandable, since

tapa-making is almost a lost skill. The same can be said of fine

mats. Once, they were works of art with the consistency of silk. Now,

they are factory produced, about six-foot square with no conceivable

use except to be given and received at fa’alavelaves.

Finally, in place of a roast pig, they give kegs of cured beef,

called “pisupo.”

I actually tried cooking pisupo once. After 12 hours of cooking,

the beef had the consistency of a Goodyear tire. Anyway, at a

fa’alavelave, not only do you get all these wonderful gifts, you

usually get several hours of speeches accompanying them. After about

a dozen of these ceremonies, we had enough pisupo to stock a small

market, and even the platinum wig was looking pretty good to Katy.

Holidays in Samoa were exercises in creativity. We never saw a

turkey, fresh or frozen, in our three years there. Since I’m not a

big fan of turkey, I thought Thanksgiving pork chops were a great

idea. As for Christmas, if you think it feels a little odd to

duplicate a Dickensian Yuletide in Southern California, try it in

Samoa. Even Katy was daunted. I think she hung a few balls on the

frangipani in our yard and let it go at that. It was one of a number

of reasons she was happy to come home.

As for me, I’m not hanging any lights or decorating a tree, but

I’m not totally devoid of holiday spirit. If anyone comes by, I’ll be

glad to give them some pisupo and a toast in Mountain Dew.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge.

His column runs Tuesdays.