In the Czech Republic, it is said you should fast on Christmas Eve. When I taught there for a few years back in my early twenties, my students told me this. They said anyone who fasted until Christmas dinner would get to see the golden pig.
I was an English teacher to Czech high school students and it was not uncommon for there to be gross misunderstandings between us, and those misunderstandings were not always related to my frequent visits to the pub that was run out of the school's first floor. I thought the golden pig might be one of those misunderstandings, but it wasn't.
I'll take a minute here while you reread the last paragraph to confirm that I did, in fact, say there was a pub in the high school. It served beer, wine, and a Czech-brewed liquor called Fernet Stock, the alcoholic equivalent of a colonoscopy for your throat. The pub opened at 10 AM on schooldays. Never has there been a more perfect match of workplace environment to my workplace skills.
Now back to the pig. Apparently, I learned, if you didn't eat until Christmas dinner, you would be rewarded with a hallucination of a golden pig. Some students said it appears on your dining room wall. Some said it shows up anywhere. One student said you'd see it floating out of your window, but I think she said that just to freak me out.
Not a single student of mine could answer why you would ever want to see the golden pig. To this day, it still escapes me. But here's the thing: As a Christmas legend, it's brilliant. It can neither be proven nor disproven. It doesn't happen every year and if it never happens to you at all, that still doesn't mean it's not true. It kicks the stuffing out of, say, a fat man in a red suit who brings you presents for no apparent reason whatsoever.
A fat man my daughter announced at dinner last night she no longer believes in.
She said it quickly, not so much a declaration as a belch, gas that had built up in her until it could be contained no longer. And then it was out there. I think she would have darted under the table if she could have, but doing so would have meant touching all the vegetables she has been squirreling down there since she was three.
"Oh ho!" I said. "You don't believe in Santa Claus?"
"No. I think you are Santa Claus."
"Hmm," my wife joined in. "So what does this mean? Are you not going to write a letter to Santa this year?"
Kathryn turned her eyes to her mom. "Here's what I was thinking," she said. "I know there's no Santa. But these guys," she gestured at the twins who were busy trading green beans and probably would have been traumatized by this whole exchange if they didn't live on planet goofball, "still do. And they are too little to write their own letters to Santa. So I'll keep writing one letter for all of us until they are old enough to do it on their own."
She speared a piece of pork with her fork. "You know, as a favor to them."
We watched her eat in stunned silence, and by silence I mean listening to the twins ask for syrup. After a few minutes, Kathryn asked, "How many more years do you think it'll be before they can write their own letters?"
"Two," I said. "Maybe three. Why?"
"No reason. I was just wondering."
My daughter Ainsley said pretty much the same thing to me a few days ago. But she will continue to keep hope alive for her little brother and still be in charge of the Wish List. I'm still in shock.
Posted by: Tess | November 17, 2008 at 12:56 AM
Christmas was actually more fun for me after I knew Santa didn't really exist.
You see, the people who were in charge of the presents I received didn't live on the North Pole. Instead, they lived in my house where I could pester them relentlessly.
Posted by: loren | November 17, 2008 at 01:13 AM
AAArrggggh. I just read this post while waiting for some work to back up to my flash drive. That is to say, it's midnight. And I now that I've seen that image, which I believe is from The Amityville Horror, I'm going to have a bitch of a time going to sleep.
But a lovely post. Liam is onto us for Santa as well as the Tooth Fairy. Kiera still doesn't "get" either concept, we think.
Posted by: renata | November 17, 2008 at 02:14 AM
I know this movie! This movie, and Jaws, are why I decided that I would not ever buy real estate on Long Island.
Eep.
Posted by: Stacia | November 17, 2008 at 02:26 AM
I might be missing something, but I smell plotting and blackmail - prepare yourself.
You may need to stock up on cash and candy to meet her demands.
Good luck!
Posted by: Jarrard | November 17, 2008 at 07:03 AM
Welcome to one of the first (of many) childhood myths bursting in front of your very eyes.
I was so sad when my son and then my daughter made their announcements. It means they are growing up and starting to move away fom you which is both exciting and scarey at the same time.
There is a 8 year difference between my two and Cameron "pretended" for a while as well so as not to spoil it for her sister.
Posted by: Anne Prince | November 17, 2008 at 07:32 AM
Don't tell me nobody told you that shot was from The Amityville Horror yet! That movie (and book) scared the heck out of me when I was a kid. And I can't imagine wanting to see a floating golden pig outside my window!
Must've been too much Fennel Stock!
Peace - D
Posted by: RiverPoet | November 17, 2008 at 08:12 AM
Oh wait...I wasn't the first....darn it...
Posted by: RiverPoet | November 17, 2008 at 08:14 AM
I don't remember anything about a golden pig, from my Eastern European background, but I sure remember the "Fast before a Feast" concept on all the church holidays.
I do remember my oldest child, 9 yrs older than 2 siblings, gloating over his new-found knowledge about Santa, feeling particularly superior for several years.
Posted by: Petunia | November 17, 2008 at 08:39 AM
yep, my 8 year old tossed up the whole "No Santa" idea a few weeks ago.
I think that means no presents this year.
I bet his tune would change for ever if he came down for christmas, no presents to be found, and a dad with bewilderment on his face.
Posted by: bryan | November 17, 2008 at 09:10 AM
Ok - I am of Eastern European stock as well. I know nothing about a Golden Pig - but there was a VERY important tradition -- the name of which I will butcher as I try to spell it phonetically -- "Win-cho-vatzing." You go to the houses of friends and relatives and you have to repeat some saying that has that word in it - and they have to give you a DRINK! This needs to become much more mainstream!
My 10 year old desperately wants to not believe in Santa - but I have convinced her that her father is way too much of a tight-wad to buy all the presents!!! Problem solved!
Posted by: Liz | November 17, 2008 at 09:11 AM
We have been having the same sort of dilemma, sort of. My oldest just turned 8, and appears to wholeheartedly believe. She's also in a class with 4th graders. Do we let her get made fun of, or give her another year (or 2) until the 4 and 5 year old are old enough to know, too? Decisions, decisions.
Awww, I was going to guess Christine for the movie!
Posted by: Michelle | November 17, 2008 at 09:17 AM
As if we needed any more proof of Kathryn's awesomeness. She's something else!
Posted by: R | November 17, 2008 at 09:27 AM
I have such a crush on Kathryn - she is just delicious!
Posted by: Katherine | November 17, 2008 at 09:40 AM
When my brother and I started asking probing questions about the identity of Santa Claus, my parents informed us that if you stop believing in him, he stops coming. We are both in our late 30s now, and we still believe in Santa. And he still shows up.
Posted by: Kris Whyte | November 17, 2008 at 10:27 AM
Amityville Horror.
My sister cried when her oldest finally gave up on Santa.
Maggie's only 5. She's just had her first experience with the tooth fairy. When she finally figures it out, I'm sure I will cry too.
What a nice big sister Kathryn is.
Posted by: Catizhere | November 17, 2008 at 10:32 AM
Why can't I see your Twitters anymore? Do I have to fast to see them? If I do, will your tweets start to show up on my walls? Floating outside my windows? (That will be really exciting since I'm at work and I don't have any windows.)
Posted by: Loretta | November 17, 2008 at 10:34 AM
8 must be the magic number. Mine just announced her disbelief a few days ago. I'm actually relieved. I hate the Santa stuff.
Posted by: Keryn | November 17, 2008 at 10:53 AM
Am I the only one wondering whether the twins were putting syrup on their pork or on their string beans??
Posted by: metoo | November 17, 2008 at 11:06 AM
My 9 year old is on the fence about Santa. When he tells me that he thinks that the parents are really the ones who bring the gifts, I reply with something like this: "Ben, do you really think I would buy you all that stuff???" (with a big emphasis on the "I" part). The idea that I - the person who is constantly yelling about how much STUFF the kids have and how it won't fit anywhere in our house - would buy all that stuff on purpose, is actually more unbelievable than the idea of santa, so for this year, he is still a believer.
Posted by: monica | November 17, 2008 at 11:19 AM
Yeah, 8 is the magic number. We heard the same belched declaration about 4 nights ago. Thank god the little one didn't hear it. He says he's going to spend the night on the couch by the tree to see if Santa's real. I told him if he does that, Santa's going to turn right around and leave b/c he doesn't want to be seen and then he won't leave gifts. That shut him up right quick.
So now we are busy building our case as to why we will never let them get a video game system so that the Wii under the tree will really eff him up. Ain't parenting fun?
Posted by: Jordan | November 17, 2008 at 11:27 AM
Damn. This is EXACTLY what was wrong with my high school, I just never realized what it was before this post. There was no pub on the first floor.
Oh, Katherine. You are so amazing and grown up.
Also, I gave you an award, which you probably already have, but I had to come up with 5 bloggers who I think are superior scribblers, and you're one of them: http://tinyurl.com/628m6v
Posted by: KAT | November 17, 2008 at 11:38 AM
No Santa in this Jewish home, but I thought I'd tell you that my 6.5 yr old daughter told me two months ago that the tooth fairy is not real. Then she happily took the tooth fairy's gifts when her tooth fell out a day later.
Fast forward to last week - 7th tooth gone. This time the same daughter asked me "what do tooth fairies do with the teeth anyway?" My point being that Kathryn's belief or non-belief in the fat red suited man might be somewhat....changeable.
Posted by: Karen | November 17, 2008 at 12:09 PM
I often hallucinate when I have gone without food for too long as well. I should have been Czech.
Posted by: Miss Britt | November 17, 2008 at 12:25 PM
Ah, the tooth fairy takes the old baby teeth and gives them to new babies!
Santa disenchantment we have not dealt with yet. I like the believe-or-else-no-presents.
I believe in Santa, because why else would I still get yummy sex while sporting a post-twin permanently 4 months pregnant belly? Santa takes Couvade syndrome into the postpartum years......
Posted by: Beth | November 17, 2008 at 12:30 PM