A Christmas Dream Turned Nightmare Turned Reality?

The barrage of Black Friday ads on TV prompted me to think of a story I read years ago in a wonderful series called Best in Children's Books. It's called Christmas Every Day, and it was written in 1892 by William Dean Howells. It's a morality tale of sorts, written in a style that's as dispassionate as Hello Kitty stories are cutesy-ootsy. The story is about an acquisitive little girl who comes to regret her wish for more, more, more. The story is told by a father to his own little girl, who is equally acquisitive.

One day of Christmas is wonderful, of course, and even two days of Christmas is mighty fine. But as Christmas marches on through Valentine's Day and the Fourth of July and Labor Day, the joy of wrapping and giving gifts becomes a millstone. Gifts that are to be presented nicely are thrown over the fence. Daily holiday feasts send the price of turkey and cranberries skyrocketing. People are sent to the poorhouse until the overflowing poorhouse sends them back.

A magazine editor and a prolific author, William Dean Howells wrote in a style called realism. I once read Christmas Every Day to a fourth grade class. After I was done, a little boy fearfully asked me if the story really happened. That's how good Howells was.

Kids today might not recognize things like tongs and Turkish paste that were given as gifts in 1892, but the principle remains the same. More, more, more sounds like a dream come true. Until it becomes too much. And that happens sooner than you think. Especially with Black Friday inching farther and farther up the calendar.

Read Christmas Every Day at Project Gutenberg. And there are a number of places online where you can find Best in Children's Books --  a vintage anthology of children's fiction, biographies, science, history, and geography. 


Illustrations by Elizabeth Enright from Best in Children's Books, 1959.

Brothers and Sisters, When Did We Become So Afraid?

One of my favorite fiction novels is Brothers and Sisters, written in 1994 by Bebe Moore Campbell. Set in Los Angeles after the Rodney King incident, the story follows men and women of different races and economic classes. The commonality they share: a personal past of slights and hurts that  keeps them from realizing success, happiness, or both. The main character, bank manager Esther Jackson, has success but not happiness. Her emotions roil at the mere sight of a white person. On her way to visit her friend Vanessa  -- an African American actress who is more sanguine about race relations -- Esther comes face to face with an elderly white woman, also a friend of Vanessa. The white woman looks at Esther fearfully until she learns that Esther too is Vanessa’s friend.

“Who did she think I was, Willie Horton in drag?,” Esther fumed to her friend later over a glass of wine.

Then Esther asks a question that has stayed on my mind:

“When did white people become so afraid? They used to go out discovering countries and shit.”

Some people will say we became afraid after 9-11. But the fear began long before then: when one man first realized that others were different from him.

Back in the nineties I attended a Bible study group at a Byzantine Catholic church in northeast Minneapolis. The topic of the end of the world came up. Father Bryan mentioned that he lived every day as if it were the end of the world. He said it calmly, almost pleasantly.

He didn’t mean that he lived every moment of his life in fear. He meant that if he met his maker that day, he would be ready with a clear conscience of how he lived his life on Earth.

If the end of the world is destined to happen, no color-coded terror alert or overzealous mall cop will prevent it. But not fearing our brothers and sisters will ease it.

Earnie Believed in Overcoming, Not Ignoring

Earnie Larsen died last month. A prolific author, he was known by people in recovery for the books he wrote about recovering from alcohol and other drugs. Larsen wrote a series of programs called the Life Skills Series for Inmates and Parolees. The programs helped inmates end the cycle of violence by recognizing the effects previous traumas had on them—and not passing those harmful behaviors onto others. Larsen didn’t ignore uncomfortable topics like childhood abuse nor did he excuse them. But he offered ways to overcome their legacy.

Earnie Larsen's books weren't always popular in a lock-'em-up-and-throw-away-the-key society. But the popular way isn't always the right way. As he explained in the program Beyond Anger:

“Over the years, I have received many letters from inmates telling me they have taken some saying or sentence from one of my books or videos and placed it somewhere in the cell or pod. They said it was a daily reminder for them on this new road they were trying to travel.”

But treatment doesn’t work in Tim Pawlenty’s world.

Living near the city of Moose Lake, which houses one of Minnesota's sex offender treatment facilities, and having written extensively about Earnie Larsen's books, I am drawn to this issue on more than one level. It’s somehow fitting that the passing of Larsen, and a state report that casts doubt on the effectiveness of sex offender treatment, have intersected.





I also write occasionally for The UpTake. The views expressed here are my views.