Waiting at the Chief’s house to give him our greetings and tell him of our presence (for that OLDC meeting that never happened back in April), Lisa and I were able to unobtrusively observe proceedings on the porch as guests moved in and out of the house. It was some kind of cultural gathering featuring a women’s group of some sort of cultural leaders. You could tell which women were part of the deal because they were draped in swaths of cloth—like toga, and knit caps—like toques!
“There’s no accounting for taste.” That’s my dad’s favourite way of explaining personal tastes that are incomprehensible to him, like living downtown, and riding bike in winter. The inexplicable factors which determine an individual’s likes or dislikes are probably the only way I can explain why my favourite nativity scene contains a horribly caricatured black magus, a random adoring child attired – to my fancy – like a Roma person, an old shepherd carrying some sort of blunderbuss. And a haloed holy family with an 18-month-old baby Jesus. This is the "Christmas Manger Set – the Christmas story in beautiful cut-out scenes and life-like figures." See how the 1940s-era family admires the realistic flourishes, like raw wood beams and straw protruding from the edge of the roofline; the rough, broken wood of the stalls; the tasselled camels; the richly dressed magi; the woolly sheep; the Bethlehemites on the path in the background, ostensibly out to get water, judging...
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