Gotham City Soul

I couldn’t let the day go by without acknowledging that it’s St. Nicholas Day in the Netherlands and Germany and other parts of Europe. We never celebrated it when I was a kid, but my Mom sure did, and I’m writing about it here because for me, it marks the beginning of Weihnachtsdelerium , a German specific fever centered on Christmas that begins around now and ends on January 6, Three Kings Day. She and her brother, my Uncle Heinz (who is traveling to Tunisia for Christmas; ironic that my old German uncle has been to Africa a half dozen times or more and I haven’t been once) put their shoes outside their front door the night before, and St. Nicholas would come knocking at this door, with his faithful sidekick, Knecht Ruprecht (farmhand Ruprecht). St. Nick would ask my mom and uncle specific questions about their behavior throughout the year; if he determined that they were good, he would leave gifts in their shoes. If he decided they weren ’t, they might get switches. What children ...

After a fortnight I’m back, not with warnings to noose hangers, or moral dilemmas, we’re not even staying in New York today. We are, in a figurative way, going to Germany. I’m in the mood for fairy tales . . . I grew up in an American home, but some of the customs that my mother, who is of German descent, brought with her to the United States became part of our childhood, especially at Christmas (more on that closer to the that holiday). One bit of the culture that I did not learn about until I was an adult, was Der Struwwelpeter. Loosely translated, it means Slovenly or Shockhaired Peter. He is a boy who doesn’t comb or cut his hair, has long dirty nails, and a dirty face. He’s not so popular. This filthy boy serves as the introduction and title of children’s tales written by Heinrich Hoffmann, a nineteenth century German psychiatrist. Tales is putting it lightly, these little Geschichte are brutal. One tells, for example, the story of a boy who won’t stop sucking his thumb. He’s wa...