It’s early morn. The sun is unwrapping the darkness, all I see is a narrow golden ribbon around the horizon. A new dawn bringing a new day. Boxing day. I was lying in bed wondering what that meant. After experiencing 55 of them, I've I'm only now wondering what it means, what is the origin for the term. To me, boxing implies a barbaric sport of men duking it out in a ring, or someone working in a shipping department. I asked my encyclopaedia of a husband and was surprised that he didn’t know so I left the warmth of my bed to Google it. I couldn’t lay there another second without knowing, even if it meant cold feet because the woodstove would have long since gone out. I’ve always been inquisitive, as a small child my mother called me nosy, tiring of my zillions of questions, but I just like to know things, store away interesting facts. I may not be a Jack of all trades, but I’m certainly a Jill of some.
Boxing day is traditionally the day following Christmas Day, when servants and tradesmen would receive gifts, knows as a “Christmas Box” from their bosses or employers.
The exact etymology of the term "boxing day" is unclear. There are several competing theories, none of which is definitive. The European tradition, which has long included giving money and other gifts to those who were needy and in service positions, has been dated to the Middle Ages, but the exact origin is unknown. It is believed to be in reference to the Alms Box placed in places of worship to collect donations to the poor. Also, it may come from a custom in the late Roman/early Christian era, wherein metal boxes placed outside churches were used to collect special offerings tied to the Feast of Saint Stephen, which in the Western Church falls on the same day as Boxing Day.
In Britain, it was a custom for tradesmen to collect "Christmas boxes" of money or presents on the first weekday after Christmas as thanks for good service throughout the year as early as December 19th, 1663. This custom is linked to an older English tradition: since they would have to wait on their masters on Christmas Day, the servants of the wealthy were allowed the next day to visit their families. The employers would give each servant a box to take home containing gifts and bonuses, and maybe sometimes leftover food.
When hubby and I first got together I marveled at the extent of his knowledge. He might be the smartest man I’ve ever met and it's a very sexy feature. I like to learn new things, be stimulated mentally by a mate and he certainly fits the bill. Except for the Boxing Day question, I don’t think I’ve ever asked him for information that he couldn't respond to. Once I joked and said, “I don’t know if you're bluffing your way through this to impress me or you really know?” but over time I've grown to respect that my guy has a mild form of genius and accept his explanations as fact. Evidence supports his intelligence considering he married me. Through osmosis, I’ve definitely grown smarter since we married and this reminds me of a funny little story.
About two decades ago, an encyclopedia salesman knocked on the door. Home computers were in vogue offering the world at the tip of a finger, making the need for cumbersome, space hogging volumes of A – Z archaic. I said upfront I wasn’t interested but he persisted, as they sometimes do, that his new set of Britannica, which came with a hefty price tag of $1000, was top of the line, leather bound with gold embossed covers, and came with a yearly volume of updates to keep up with the changing times, for an additional fee of course. I leaned up against the front door and listened to the spiel with a glazed look in my eye knowing, my lunch was getting cold! Finally I said, “Like I said, I’m not interested in the set. My husband is the smartest person I’ve ever met and he answers all my questions for free….and then added, and he’s updateable from year to year!” The man looked at me and laughed, said that was the first time he’d heard that and left.
Yup, my hubby has a very good brain. He reads books I’d choke over or consider using as doorstops. Books I’d have to read with a dictionary handy. I make no bones that the smarts I have come from life experiences, the school of hard knocks so to speak, but I do have a natural thirst for knowledge, I just don’t need to read the entire story, just digest the interesting highlights. Why do I have to understand the theory of relativity when I find the fact that Einstein was a sailor and never finished high school more interesting? Making a person real, instead of struggling to understand their insights is more appealing to me, the human interest kind of angle. Let the brainiacs digest the hard stuff.
Hubby reads books on philosophy, history and natural sciences, dummies it down (my terminology not his) to laymen’s terms and fills me in on the highlights. He reads the book and I get the summarized book report. My speed, books on hooking or a juicy murder mystery might fade in comparison in the knowledge department, but I don’t need an interpreter to explain it.
They say opposites attract and it’s very true in our case; hubby and I came together like a couple of magnets. He's obviously the brain of this marriage and I'm the some other word. My specialty is that I collect interesting facts, condensed versions of stories, the sensational stuff. Right now hubby is reading “Let History Judge”, about Russia and Stalin, I can’t even read the print it’s so small and the book size is far too weighty for me. It would be a life sentence to read it, but I look forward to the summation that I’ll get at the end. The five books Santa brought him for Christmas are yawners, and would take me five years of Sundays to read. In his words, “Sometimes it’s tough slog…I read them for the general information. That speaks volumes for his diligence for continued education. For me, reading is work unless there’s enjoyment, once boredom sets in the book is unfinished and forgotten. Maybe I have the attention span of a knat, but maybe I just want to have fun.
And speaking of work. The shop won’t be open until Saturday December 28th. After two days of cooking, company and going out, Friday is a day to put up my feet, stay in the jammies and rest. I’ll see you Saturday!
Boxing day is traditionally the day following Christmas Day, when servants and tradesmen would receive gifts, knows as a “Christmas Box” from their bosses or employers.
The exact etymology of the term "boxing day" is unclear. There are several competing theories, none of which is definitive. The European tradition, which has long included giving money and other gifts to those who were needy and in service positions, has been dated to the Middle Ages, but the exact origin is unknown. It is believed to be in reference to the Alms Box placed in places of worship to collect donations to the poor. Also, it may come from a custom in the late Roman/early Christian era, wherein metal boxes placed outside churches were used to collect special offerings tied to the Feast of Saint Stephen, which in the Western Church falls on the same day as Boxing Day.
In Britain, it was a custom for tradesmen to collect "Christmas boxes" of money or presents on the first weekday after Christmas as thanks for good service throughout the year as early as December 19th, 1663. This custom is linked to an older English tradition: since they would have to wait on their masters on Christmas Day, the servants of the wealthy were allowed the next day to visit their families. The employers would give each servant a box to take home containing gifts and bonuses, and maybe sometimes leftover food.
When hubby and I first got together I marveled at the extent of his knowledge. He might be the smartest man I’ve ever met and it's a very sexy feature. I like to learn new things, be stimulated mentally by a mate and he certainly fits the bill. Except for the Boxing Day question, I don’t think I’ve ever asked him for information that he couldn't respond to. Once I joked and said, “I don’t know if you're bluffing your way through this to impress me or you really know?” but over time I've grown to respect that my guy has a mild form of genius and accept his explanations as fact. Evidence supports his intelligence considering he married me. Through osmosis, I’ve definitely grown smarter since we married and this reminds me of a funny little story.
About two decades ago, an encyclopedia salesman knocked on the door. Home computers were in vogue offering the world at the tip of a finger, making the need for cumbersome, space hogging volumes of A – Z archaic. I said upfront I wasn’t interested but he persisted, as they sometimes do, that his new set of Britannica, which came with a hefty price tag of $1000, was top of the line, leather bound with gold embossed covers, and came with a yearly volume of updates to keep up with the changing times, for an additional fee of course. I leaned up against the front door and listened to the spiel with a glazed look in my eye knowing, my lunch was getting cold! Finally I said, “Like I said, I’m not interested in the set. My husband is the smartest person I’ve ever met and he answers all my questions for free….and then added, and he’s updateable from year to year!” The man looked at me and laughed, said that was the first time he’d heard that and left.
Yup, my hubby has a very good brain. He reads books I’d choke over or consider using as doorstops. Books I’d have to read with a dictionary handy. I make no bones that the smarts I have come from life experiences, the school of hard knocks so to speak, but I do have a natural thirst for knowledge, I just don’t need to read the entire story, just digest the interesting highlights. Why do I have to understand the theory of relativity when I find the fact that Einstein was a sailor and never finished high school more interesting? Making a person real, instead of struggling to understand their insights is more appealing to me, the human interest kind of angle. Let the brainiacs digest the hard stuff.
Hubby reads books on philosophy, history and natural sciences, dummies it down (my terminology not his) to laymen’s terms and fills me in on the highlights. He reads the book and I get the summarized book report. My speed, books on hooking or a juicy murder mystery might fade in comparison in the knowledge department, but I don’t need an interpreter to explain it.
They say opposites attract and it’s very true in our case; hubby and I came together like a couple of magnets. He's obviously the brain of this marriage and I'm the some other word. My specialty is that I collect interesting facts, condensed versions of stories, the sensational stuff. Right now hubby is reading “Let History Judge”, about Russia and Stalin, I can’t even read the print it’s so small and the book size is far too weighty for me. It would be a life sentence to read it, but I look forward to the summation that I’ll get at the end. The five books Santa brought him for Christmas are yawners, and would take me five years of Sundays to read. In his words, “Sometimes it’s tough slog…I read them for the general information. That speaks volumes for his diligence for continued education. For me, reading is work unless there’s enjoyment, once boredom sets in the book is unfinished and forgotten. Maybe I have the attention span of a knat, but maybe I just want to have fun.
And speaking of work. The shop won’t be open until Saturday December 28th. After two days of cooking, company and going out, Friday is a day to put up my feet, stay in the jammies and rest. I’ll see you Saturday!
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