Rubber Chicken: A Christmas Story

Rubber Chicken: A Christmas Story

I’m not talking about the classic banquet rubber chicken. That would be more appropriate, but indulge me if you will. This is the season of indulgence and I plan to fully partake. My topic is the importance of tradition, though my focus may stray.

Logic and tradition need nothing to do with each other. An act need only be repeated to transcend itself from monotony to meaning. Therefore, we are mandated to make the acts we repeat positive in nature. We already have too many bad habits; by necessity, we must nurture the good into our lives.

Traditions abound around Christmas and the holidays and our home is no exception. But we have one tradition that I maintain is uniquely ours, and that makes it all the more precious.

One Christmas, many years ago, B’s big sis, T, received a mysterious package under the tree. She opened a large box, only to find a smaller wrapped box. Inside that package, another package nestled, etc. She finally opened the smallest parcel, glee lighting up her face, only to find … a rubber chicken.



She flung the offending fowl away from her, tears streaming down her face. “Why would Santa bring me that ugly thing?” Amidst the wealth of all the other presents, the hysterics soon abated. The rubber chicken relegated to ignominy. Not exactly the expected reaction.

Every subsequent year, though, some other rubber chicken-related present appeared under the tree. A rubber chicken key chain. A rubber chicken lollipop holder. An egg-laying rubber chicken. And with each year, the humor of the situation improved. Soon, the rubber chicken present was looked forward to, talked about, laughed over. It took a bit of persistence, but the tradition took hold.

No one knows why Santa does this or why he has singled out our abode for this particular distinction. Perhaps unknown geeks exist in our genealogy. Perhaps it is a message we lack the knowledge to comprehend. Perhaps Santa just has a twisted sense of humor. Some things are best not over-analyzed.

Santa is a home invader of first order. Somehow even residences without chimneys cannot keep this nefarious felon at bay.

We always leave out cookies and milk on Christmas Eve. It has been remarked that Santa is a very careless and sloppy eater. The reindeer too, somehow in our kitchen, leave a wasteful mess of half chomped greens and carrots. Like a stone rolled aside from the mouth of the cave, or a star burning bright, it is a sign of his presence.



B was a little older than T when she first received the rubber chicken. She laughed with genuine childish joy and has become quite attached to the thing. The rubber chicken flies, tells jokes, does the can-can. The rubber chicken has all sorts of adventures and gets into all manner of trouble. The rubber chicken hides in improbable spaces. Sometimes, he even sings.



B is just such a pragmatic child. In past letters to Santa, she has limited her list to just a few items. I encourage her to ask for more. She tells me, no, if she just gets these couple of things, she will be happy. This year, B’s list neared ten items, but opened with, “Dear Santa. I would be so happy if you would just give me one of these things.” It’s like living with Tiny Tim.

Yesterday, B and T both received a gummy rubber chicken. It took only a matter of moments for B to bite the head off of hers.



It is truly an ugly thing, the rubber chicken, that somehow transcends itself to become the tabula rasa of our imagination. Love it.



Traditions almost seem to arise at random. Why do we carve pumpkins on Halloween? What do eggs have to do with Easter? In general, though, traditions arise from careful thought and planning with subsequent work involved in keeping the custom alive. Traditions are important anchor points for cultures and families. They root us to our past and define our future.

Wishing you all the best in the New Year, whatever your tradition.

-ramon
fixed typo

Thanks for sharing. I just loved this post.

Here's hoping you have many, many peaceful, healthy and prosperous rubber chicken Christmases in the future!

Suzy

Ramon,

I didn't realize your family had roots in the Catskills. Merry Christmas!

And a cool thing - many rubber chickens available are made in Utah, so they won't have been fed melamine And they can be used as supplementary computer assistance. Hold one over your computer, when the computer is being bad, and shake the chicken. It may fix the problem.

http://slice.utah.edu/sol/aboutus/chicken.html

https://www.loftus.com/

Ramon,
Great post! I was at the wedding of a friend's daughter last year that took a turn for the hilarious when, just after the bouquet was thrown, the groom lifted the bride's dress to retrieve the garter-- AND DISCOVERED A RUBBER CHICKEN. The bride had worn it strapped to her leg through the ceremony and the reception.

Ramonita might want to consider this for her wedding day.

The rubber chicken hides in improbable spaces. Sometimes, he even sings.

The chicken has EXCELLENT taste in music, too!

-ramon

What's really impressive about Rubber Chicken: A Christmas Story is that they're all rubber chickens, not just any toy chickens. That said, Ramon's post was the first thing that came to mind when I saw these at a Vietnamese market outside of Melbourne:

It’s been a lean year but Santa was good to us. We must have done something right.

We dispensed with extended family obligations yesterday; the presents have all been opened. I even got in a nap. Soon we are off to Chinatown!

B got another rubber chicken. This one screams piteously. B is delighted.



B and I wrote a new Christmas Carol yesterday. We have the bulk of next year to perfect and record it. I share a little bit of it with you here:

Oh! Santa Claus comes every year
And though we hold him very dear
We really wish he’d quit –
Clogging our toilet

Maybe he ate something bad
Something that he shouldn’t had
And I get a sickly feeling
How’d he get it on the ceiling?

“Silent Night” it is not. But if I have to listen to a song about reindeer running over grandma every year, why not a song about Santa’s annual clogging of our crapper? I smell gold.

Our best to you and yours in this holiday season.

-ramon

that picture of Rubber Chicken w/ the Beatles is hilarious.

Happy Holidays to all - and B is getting prettier with every photo!