The Winter Solstice is again upon we denizens of the Northern Hemisphere. I find Nature’s eternal cycling inspiring, and always to be respected. As our days begin to lengthen, the chill outdoors contrast with our cozy indoor spaces here at The Black House in the Haunted Hudson Valley. During this holiday season, those of a more heathen bent might enjoy displaying a Yule Tree, as evergreens were used by European pagans to symbolize life’s endurance through the trials of the frigid months. And when ornamenting this vital conifer, one could include whatever brings personal delight. Our collection of decorative objects features gilded musical instruments, dinosaurs, Godzilla, Ancient Greek deities, vintage abstract shapes from the 1960s, characters, objects, and vessels from sci-fi we enjoy (Star Trek, Star Wars, Alien, Planet of the Apes), Krampus, and Satan—all mingling in a joyous panoply of visual fun and exotically harmonious archetypal resonance.
Leroy Anderson (1908-1975) was an American composer of light orchestral works, whose deft touch with orchestration at times employed objects like typewriters (The Typewriter), sandpaper (Sandpaper Ballet), and if available, an actual whip (Sleigh Ride)! As we well know, over the centuries so much music has been wrought for the Winter Solstice holiday season—some sublime, some atrocious. In 1950, Anderson put together A Christmas Festival, a medley of the better of these tunes, with witty, contrapuntal climaxes. Here’s a link to a 1959 recording by Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops Orchestra presenting a most piquant performance. Towards the conclusion, the trombones grandly intone “Adeste Fidelis” which makes a fitting launch to an energetic coda. When forced to sing this hymn while in grammar school, I used to cheekily substitute my own lyrics: “Oh come let us abhor him, oh come let us abhor him, oh come let us abhor him, of Chri-ist we’re bored.” My friends, also not keen on the Nazarene, would join me, much to the chagrin of the teacher leading the vocalizing. When I began my college studies of music, I played percussion in a performance of this Anderson work in a wind band arrangement, and that lead me to admire his clever writing.
From our Victorian lair, Peggy and I bid a “Superlative Solstice!” to Satanists, fellow secularists, pagans and assorted infidels, as well as to those around the globe who share our reverence for the Earth. In the immensity of the universe, we might note that we are but ephemeral beings, yet we boldly celebrate our singularity, though we only exist briefly in the infinite, indifferent vastness of time and space.
May joy be yours in abundance, and, as you can, do make merry—con brio!
—Magus Peter H. Gilmore