I already wrote about my strange obsession with the Celts, a European Bronze Age and Iron Age people  dominant between 700 BCE and 77 CE. In 51 CE, Julius Caesar “pacified” Gaul. The first slaughter of druids on Anglesey (Mona) in Wales the home of the last druid “college,” came in 61 CE by Suetonius Paulinus. Then he got to feeling like Julius.. Paulinus chose to ignore the treaty with the Iceni that established right of succession for their  lands. When Queen Boudica’s husband left the Iceni lands to her and her daughters, Paulinus seized her lands. When this “stroppy woman” objected he flogged publicly her and let his soldiers gang rape her daughters.

Boudica did not take such treatment well and led a revolt first slaughtering half the residents of Londinium only to be narrowly defeated later. Paulinus limped back to Rome and about fifteen years later Gnaeus Julius Agricola conquered Mona, after the Boudican revolt.  The Celts were finally subjugated in Britain.

Celts might disagree, and there are six “nations” still speaking Celtic languages, and no countries speaking Latin.  But Celtic dominance in Europe was over at this point.  Still seven hundred and fifty years ain’t a bad run, and influences persist today.

Many holidays we celebrate stem from Celtic Fire festivals, Christmas (Historians tell us that Jesus was likely born in the spring, but Christians celebrate his birth around the Solstice), Groundhog day, (Imbolc) celebration of lambing and mama-sheep lactation. May Day (Beltane) was first usurped by young women showing off moves around the maypole, now by the International Communist Party for Labor Day, (except in the US where we are allergic to red).

And let us not forget Halloween, the Celtic New Year’s Eve, known as Samhain (a Gaelic word pronounced “Sah-Win”). This won’t be a revelation to any horror movie fans because this fact has been written into many scary flick scripts released around October 31

The Celts tracked the time of days from sundown to sundown. (Does Judaic tradition track time that way?) The Celtic year similarly ran from the dark to the light from November 1 to October 31.

The Celts were also genealogy obsessed. They evidently introduced themselves by giving their lineage. I am the son of______, who was the son of_____, etc. A tradition that survives with the prefix Mac, or Mc, of Scots and Irish names and the O’ in Irish names like O’Brien, O’Connor, etc. (Is this parallel to the Bin or Ben in cultures in the Middle East?)

I know a little about ancestor obsession because my wife is an amateur genealogist. On gift giving holidays some relative, stuck for a gift, will give her a mug which says “I know where the nuts came from” or a tee shirt that says “I seek Dead People.”

For Celts, though, the dead weren’t, you know, dead and gone, desiccated skeletons in barrow tombs; they were just in the “Other World.” On New Year’s the walls between the worlds were thin. At a time, when you might be thinking about your plans for the next year, your dead family might show up with a lot of unsolicited advice. Further some of your dead friends might want you to come hang out with them and some of your dead enemies might show up to settle a score.

So if you were staying home, you decided to leave some food on the stoop to appease or  distract those uninvited guests. And if you had to be out and about on the start of Samhain you might wear a disguise to keep undesirables from recognizing you.

As happened with a lot of traditional pagan holidays, the new religion in town, Christianity, was smart. “We don’t mind if the people celebrate. Let’s just reframe “what” they are celebrating.” So November 1 became “All-Saint’s Day” a time to rethink your future in the context of emulating the martyrs and All Hallows Eve became a time to dress-up to scare away the Devil who stayed up this night trying to distract you from a holy life.

The whole Carved Pumpkin thing is much later. In the eighteenth century an old Irish myth emerged about Stingy Jack who tricked the Devil several times including tricking him not to take his soul to hell. The devil kept his word, but when heaven wouldn’t take Jack, the devil set Jack wandering the earth with only a coal from hell placed in a carved turnip. The Irish and Scots brought the myth to America, where pumpkins were more plentiful and less edible and Jack o’ Lanterns were born.

I won’t blame the Celts for American’s obsession with giving out candy to kids; that’s probably the work of the American Dental Association, (just kidding dentists). And Celts may not be the only ancient people who contributed to this holiday and its bizarre celebration.  The Celts were a completely oral culture; they never wrote anything down so the accuracy of this may be suspect, but it all makes sense to me.

I will certainly dress-up (usually as a wizard) and hand out candy, but I’ll also contemplate the coming year, my ancestors who came before me, and the thin space between life and death and my Celtic heritage.

I will also squirrel away a few of the Twix bars for myself, (shhh – don’t tell Billie!).   

Will, Marne, and Surance

When William Wehn was younger he left his parents farm. Will was the third son and knew his brothers would inherit the small family plot. William travelled, working where he could, mucking out some farmers barn, helping bind and thresh wheat from another’s field.

Will was a good worker. His employers often suggested he come back through for next year’s harvest and Will often promised that he would, but he seldom did. One road just seemed to run into another. Years passed

Will stayed at a tavern or with a widow who took in boarders. It was on one such occasion that Will met Marne Pleurn, an “old maid,”  still unmarried in her late twenties. Marne lived with her sister’s family, helped with the children, cooking, and household work and took in washing, cleaned rooms and served drinks at the town tavern, which is where Will met her.

Will picked apples and helped cidering and was waiting to gather root vegetables in a week’s time. One night Marne asked will if he’d like a second ale after dinner and Will declined. “Thank ye, but the second always wants the company of a third and then all of ‘em conspire to pound my head.. “Sides I’m savin’ for a place of my own. Say what is on that twine around your neck.”

Marne pulled the cord up to reveal a gold coin. “That’s my surance.  A reminder to work hard and not drink my wages. I’m savin’ a bit myself.”

And so a longer conversation began. Will and Marne handfasted at Springfest and married at the Solstice and after a few years of boarding at the widow Ecks’ they bought their own farm with rocky clay soil on the south facing side of the mountain.  A mountain stream flowed down to the field outside a broken down cottage

Will and Marne rebuilt the little cottage. They mostly grew root vegetables, hemp and flax for trading, kept chickens and some goats. They had one plowhorse for the hemp and to barter with other framers. Will planted some vines up on the rocky hillsides. “Grapes!” he beamed.

Folk sadly called them the “childless couple” for Will was “over forty and Marne not far behind.” Then in four quick years they had four boys, Henry, Michel, Nils and Jahn. Four young children are a lot of work, but Will and Marne never minded. Will played with and taught those boys and Marne “kept ‘em civilized.” When the boys objected to her strict discipline, Marne would say, “it’s my job to grow you into men that others respect, because you respect yourself and others.”

When Jahn, the youngest was four a fever came through. William and the boys were all down with it, but Jahn was really ill. Marne stayed up day and night and finally Jahn’s fever broke. Everyone ate hot broth and collapsed into bed, but in the morning Marne’s body was cold. She had passed to the beyond during the night.

Will was devastated and when he took Marne’s surance coin to the orphanage the neighbors thought he would give up some or all of the boys. He didn’t and he didn’t look for another wife either. “How could I look at these boys with Marne’s eyes all day and sleep with someone else at night?”

 The Boys

The local women helped him some, and the boys went to the town teacher for lessons, but raising four boys by himself was hard. Will occasionally got frustrated with their misbehavior, and would say, “What would Mama say?” “Respect,” the boys would mumble, but they stopped misbehaving.

Henry, Michel, Nils and Jahn were good boys. Everyone said so. They were polite, respectful to adults and liked by boys their own age. But they fought each other terribly. They were competitive; they roughhoused, wrestled and boxed. When Jahn was eleven he was the same size as Henry who was fourteen, what started as a slap and run game turned into a fist fight. Michel and Nils’s their cheering turned into a fist fight too. Noses bled.

Will stopped work fixing a window of the cottage ad yelled “Stop!” Will didn’t raise his voice often. The boys stopped. “Go gather some sticks for the woodstove,” he demanded.

When the boys returned Will said, “I want each of you to take a stick and break it over you knew. First you Henry.” Henry easily broke a stick. Then Michel, Nils and Jahn each broke a stick  each one slightly bigger stick but even John’s stick broke easily. Then Will gave them a piece of hemp rope. “Tie four sticks together tightly.” When they had done that  he had them each try to break the bundle. No matter how they tried, none of the brothers could break the bundle. “What does this mean?” asked Will.

“We’re stronger together,” said Michel and all the boys nodded as Will smiled.

As the boys neared their twenties the boys began to talk. “The farm won’t support us all,” said Henry. They began to dream of travelling the road in search of riches. They grew lackadaisical about farmwork at a time when Will was feeling his age and shouldn’t have worked as hard. One spring day loading the wagon with hemp, Will fell. He twisted his knee and cried out in pain and the horse startled and lurched forward pulling the wagon over Will’s crumpled body.

Michel found Will and called Henry.  With Nils they moved Will to his bed and sent Jahn, the fastest runner, to find the healer. When the healer came she said Will had punctured his lung and might have some other internal damage.

For the next few days the boys took turns tending their father. They fed him broth and placed the healer’s honey poultice on his wounds. Will seemed to improve, but then he developed a cough that brought up dark blood. Will called the boys to his bedside.

Farewell

“Your mother would be proud of you boys. You have grown into men who others will respect, because you respect yourselves, your brothers and all others. I know you talk of how the farm won’t  support you all and the families you hope to have. I know you think of seeking riches from the road. It is your choice, but I want you to know that your mother and I have thought about you. I have told you how we each saved; it was the foundation of our marriage?”

“Yes Papa” The boys said in unison.

“Well, we saved you a great fortune, which will support you and your families on this land should you choose to live here. I buried this fortune among the vines on the hill. You have only to dig it up, but you must promise me something.”

“What, Papa.”

“First, you must take this surance from around my neck,” and held up the gold coin wrapped in hemp and flax twine that he had worn since he met Marne, “And you must give it to the orphanage the way we did with your mother’s so many years ago. Then you must take the first gold coins you find among the vines and each make a surance for yourself to hang around your neck. Then continue digging until you find the rest of the fortune and always remember the lesson ‘stronger together.’”

The boys promised. Will smiled and was still smiling when they checked on him later and found he had passed to the beyond.

Stronger Together

The next morning the boys took his surrance to the orphanage and returned home to dig for the fortune.

Henry found the first gold coin in the first row of vines. Then Michel found one soon followed by Nils and Jahn. “Maybe the fortune is all buried in this row,” said Jahn. And so the dug deep all around the first row, continually turning over the earth. They moved on to the second row and then the third row and then retired for the night.

The boys dug every day often wondering out loud why their father had buried the fortune. There were ten rows of vines and the clay soil was baked hard because the mountainside faced south.

“This would be a lot easier going if it was wet. Do you think it will rain?” Nils wondered.

“You know what the summers are like,” said Michel. “Rain is unpredictable.”

“We could divert some of the stream onto the clay in each row. That would soften it up,” said Jahn.

They worked all summer digging deeper and deeper, turning the earth over and over. In September the boys were exhausted and hadn’t found even another gold coin. They were starting to grumble. It was still hot.

“Well will you look at this,” exclaimed Michel, “There’s a lot of grapes on these old vines.” He ate one. “And sweet too.” They all started to eat, but Henry stopped them. “No, we have to harvest these and take them either to the market or Swann the vintner, who’ll ever give us the best price.”

They loaded up baskets and put them in the wagon. Swann gave them forty gold pieces for the load. The boys were overjoyed. They saved most of the money, but they did go out to the tavern for dinner and to celebrate ordered a bottle of Swann wine.

“Three gold pieces?1” exclaimed Nils.

“Swann charges me two and a half,” said the tavern owner. “I have to make some money.”

Henry smacked his forehead with the heal of his hand. “Why that crafty old man!” he shouted.

“Swann?” asked  Michel

“No. Papa,” said Henry “This is the Fortune!”`

The boys bought adjoining property, expanded the vineyard, and learned the wine trade. Ultimately each married and had a large family all supported by the Wehn Family Winery. They supported the orphanage and were respected in the community because they always showed respect to others. Their motto: “Stronger Together!” was on every bottle.

And every member of the family wore a surance around his neck for his whole life and gave it to the orphanage when he passes to the beyond.

* This tale is spun from a combination of three Aesop Fables, “The She Wolf and her Cubs,” “Father and Sons,” and “The Farmer and His Sons.” Aesop may or may not have ever existed. Aristotle places his birth in Mesembria in Thrace around 650 BCE. Herodotus places him in Samos. Plutarch and other Roman writers called him a Phrygian slave in the court of King Croesus of Lydia (modern day Turkey).  Real or not, his fables, including the “Fox and the Sour Grapes” and “The Tortoise and the Hare” have taught us lessons for centuries.

The first math problem.

My parents were married for sixty-seven years. They got married in the depths of the Great Depression, which I always thought was the heights of optimism.

They were very different people. Dad was an extravert; my mother described him as “terminally gregarious – not that he’ll die from it – I might, but he won’t” She was quiet, reserved. I now know that she was an introvert and needed alone time to recharge after gatherings.

She was a math-whiz who could do thirty-year compound interest in her head; she became a computer programmer in 1956. He was a printer, a salesman, with a bass voice that earned him soloist parts in Handel Hayden Choral Society and someone who today would be called an addictive personality.

They bickered, as I’ve come to learn most couples do. I commented on their bickering once in my teenaged know-it-all years suggesting that maybe they should get a divorce. They were shocked. My mother said, “I don’t understand divorce. I understand murder – but not divorce.” I think she saw horror on my literally minded teenage face and quickly continued, “Oh sometimes we snap at each other, sure, but sometimes we just laugh and laugh.”

There were a couple of humdinger fights, when they didn’t speak to each other. I always assumed that these were my father’s fault because he was a jokester,  a teaser, a “needler” who frequently missed signals that it was time to quit.

I remember one fight where they had obviously gone to bed mad or maybe just my mother was angry, my father seemed to have no clue why. He scrawled a question mark in crayon on a piece of paper and taped it to the refrigerator.

My mother quickly taped her answer in crayon underneath. It occurs to me that by itself these are words of wisdom.

The second math problem

The fight went on. Clearly my father still didn’t get it. He taped another question mark below.

My mother grabbed the blue crayon from the kitchen counter and started to scrawl. The crayon broke. I wasn’t happy; these were my crayons. She got a green one from my box and finished her response. Once again just standing on its own these math notations seem wise.

The third math problem

I think my father took meaning from these notations. He wrote his own equations with what seemed like a conciliatory question mark at the end. Again it stands alone, maybe even as the answer to complex international negotiations.

The fourth math problem

Now it was my mother’s turn to be confused.  I remember her looking at my father’s lst note and starting to respond and walking away as he watched from the hall. Finally she picked up the crayon and wrote a big question mark.

My father picked up the crayon almost as soon as she put it down and wrote his response while she watched. Again these words have a wider meaning, but apparently they did the trick. My parents hugged by the refrigerator for long enough that I grew impatient to get my crayons back.

Tomorrow is the twenty-second anniversary of my marriage to Billie. It’s a second marriage for us both, but we have now been married longer than either of us have been married before. We bicker some and have had some go-to-bed angry battles, but “sometimes we just laugh and laugh.”