Cranberries, Christmas and California

Sitting in the middle of the lounge room floor, surrounded by Christmas wrapping paper and as yet unwrapped gifts, all the windows open as the warmth from outside permeates through the house, I am momentarily bewildered. It is late November and I was going to read up on recipes for different cranberry sauces for Thanksgiving, a few short days away, but have opted instead to start early on the Christmas presents. It is 80 degrees Fahrenheit and so hard to bring myself to think about Thanksgiving and Christmas in this mild, beautiful, sunny weather.

Yet the warmth worked it’s magic and took me back to another place and time in my life. Up until my move to California just over a decade ago, all my Christmases were hot in the Australian summer. Eventually we learned to eat foods more suitable to the heat, preferably by a pool or at the beach, a park or a backyard BBQ. Cricket was a game taken seriously by the whole nation and the swatting of flies was the only thing that mattered more that hitting that small red cricket ball. But in those early, far back days, when my parents and grandparents had managed to pull their lives back together after the war, find jobs and somewhere to live, we still lived by the old European traditions. Heavy, rich, creamy food was prepared for days leading up to Christmas, all the foods we now associate with snow, rain, sleet and cold. Hot mulled wine wafted through the house, rich saffron breads, loaded with dried fruits, “piragi” little bacon buns that take hours to make and seconds to consume, roast pork and very rich chocolate, cream cakes along with the obligatory “pepper cakes” ginger cookies. These are the tastes of my childhood, tastes my mouth longs for now, but at the time, in heat exceeding a 100 degrees and no air conditioning, senses were overwhelmed by the cloying, heavy smells.

In the above photo, one can see our grand tree, six or seven ornaments and a few strands of tinsel. How those pine trees survived the heat is something I will never truly comprehend. I know as a small child, I had to keep adding water to the bucket the tree stood in, or it would die very quickly and the pine needles get brittle and dry, a very real fire danger from the candles, as this was long before the electric lights we enjoy today. From the adoring look I am giving my mother, I was obviously very excited about Father Christmas coming with my gift. I do say gift not gifts, as the days of children receiving more than one gift for Christmas were still a very long way away.

As we all gradually became Australians and adapted to our new homeland, we took on the traditions of Australia. Our own affluence, time and the weather, created different traditions, ones with lobsters, salads, ice cream cakes, Carols at the Myer Music Bowl, and long lazy walks along the beach in the evening. Just last year I had the pleasure of enjoying another Christmas with my family in Melbourne. The temperature leading up to Christmas Eve was stiflingly hot, around 110 degrees Fahrenheit and with limited air conditioning, we opted for a less traditional Latvian dinner and chose the best of both worlds. Absolutely delicious fresh lobsters, prawns, smoked salmon (smoked in the back yard with plenty of dill and even maple syrup which my son had brought over from Canada), piragi, cold Latvian potato salad with that little extra for color, beetroot! Of course there was the obligatory ham, green salad, copious amounts of good Aussie wine, and of course, great company. What a delicious melding of two cultures to compensate for heat but still keeping Latvian traditions alive.


And now, as the days will grow even shorter here in California, a little more chilly, but not snowy nor icy cold, I will adjust yet again, somewhere in the middle of the very harsh Latvian Christmas and the heat of the Melbourne ones. The short days allow us to string up loads of beautiful lights to illuminate our homes, backyards and boats, and the cooler temperatures will give me that kick start to look up the old recipes again. Cranberries figure predominantly in both the US and Latvian cooking, so maybe those few different sauces to accompany the turkey will be in order.

Looking back at my life, I realize how very blessed I have been to live the way I have and garner and retain my three different cultures. It feels so very right to combine these three cultures during the Thanksgiving and Christmas season, call the whole period “The Holidays” and spend this time with people I love and care about, in California, where I can share from my past and look forward to the future. This future will involve everything I have brought with me through my life, handed down from my parents, and melded together with all the new things I am learning and experiencing in my new homeland. The fact that most of these experiences involve food, wine, good friends and family, adds to the sweetness and joy of the experience.

If a sparrow is born in a stable, does it make the sparrow a horse??

Even when we are aware that it is better not to, we still use labels for people, events and things and as time goes on, it seems the habit is becoming more pronounced. With just a few days to go until the United States elects a new president, we are told it will be an historic event; we will either have a black president or a women vice president. So it seems the color of one’s skin or gender still labels the person and that person will enter the history books as a new and very significant participant in a “never before” event.

Labeling has always existed and as much as we may not like it, it will continue. In the above photograph my mother and paternal grandparents are labeled as displaced people, affectionately known as DP’s, with those enormous tags that I have always associated with morgues and toes. Maybe it was so they would not get lost or displaced again, or wander off inadvertently to the wrong train or ship. Either way, in time of war, when your country has been taken over and you are living in limbo, it seems these tags and labels were imperative. Even the train didn’t escape the injustice of being labeled! But somehow I think the inhabitants of the train were happy after 4+ years of punishing hunger, to be on their way to a new land far across the sea. This photograph is of one of the carriages filled with Latvians on their way to a ship taking them to Australia, dated April 12, 1949. “Aufwiedersehen Europa” in it’s literal translation means “To see you again Europe” which was what all of these immigrants hoped would transpire. After losing Latvia to Communism and watching as Germany was carved up, leaving them with virtually no identities but those pinned on their clothes, these people were off to a brand new start, but they all dreamed of the day they would return home to their native land. As we know now, that didn’t happen to this generation, they settled into a comfortable and good life that Australia offered them, worked hard and assimilated well. Some of their children have returned to Latvia and started afresh there after 1991, but most remained in Australia, continuing what their parents started anew after the war.

Labeling was rampant in those days and political correctness was a term for the future. The Balts and Poles later gave way to Dagos, Wogs and Poms, and no one really took offense. It’s who we were and we accepted that. But what we didn’t accept was the lack of knowledge from the locals. In 1956 Melbourne hosted the Olympic Games and amongst many of the athletes, who did a full days work before competing, were two young Latvians named John (Janis) and Ilsa Konrads. At age 14, John won several medals for Australia, as did Ilsa who was two years younger. In the seven short years since arriving in Australia, Latvians had made their mark, albeit small, and were recognized as great swimmers because of the Konrads children. When I talked to people in the street, which was very normal in Australia back then, they all said I must be a great swimmer too! I think I had just earned my “Herald Certificate” which proclaimed that I was able to swim the length of a pool, not a big deal, so I stared in bewilderment at these well-meaning folks. Then they would ask me if I could still speak Russian. In seven years people had forgotten that Latvia had been a country with it’s own identity and language, had been annexed by the Soviets and the inhabitants forced to speak the Russian language. How did that apply to me in Australia, where I was busy assimilating into a good little Aussie, yet still trying to keep all my Latvian traditions and language going?? I would ask them quite blatantly “If a sparrow is born in a horse’s stable, does that make the sparrow a horse??” I usually received a little pat on the head and a weak smile in response. But was that a form of labeling back then too?? If two Latvians were so good at swimming, then weren’t all Latvians good at it and if Latvia was now part of what the world accepted as Russia, then shouldn’t we all speak fluent Russian??

Sadly, in the newspaper yesterday, I read that John Konrads, now 66 has been labeled as bi-polar, is down on his luck and wanting to sell his Olympic gold medals. He is still an incredibly handsome man, one who accomplished an enormous amount even after his Olympic career ended, and had opportunities that most of us only dream about. Maybe the labeling will make it easier for him. I hope so, because along with his sister, they were my heroes in the fifties, gave me hope of what can be achieved after the world falls apart as it did for so many after World War ll.

This little sparrow still flutters around, has left the horses’ stable, made that huge swim across the Pacific Ocean and flies in an even bigger, wider pasture. As an American I will vote on Tuesday, something I have worked hard for and consider a privilege. Whoever wins this presidency will be labeled a “first” and be written into history. Personally, if I had to attach a label to myself it would be difficult. The ones I want like beautiful, incredibly talented, famous, rich etc, would be a really big stretch, so I’d have to settle for the ones most people recognize me by: Aussie, Latvian, American followed, of course, by all the above as well as fabulous woman living life to the hilt!