rituals

Last weekend was extremely busy; we took the Southworth ferry to drop off our youngest with his grandparents. Each ferry in the system has its own character and Southworth is the melancholy ferry. As it leaves the dock and glides away from West Seattle the land seems to slide away, revealing the tremendous Mt. Rainier looming over the sound. The trip is short, only about thirty minutes, and then we drove against the sunset toward Poulsbo.

My mother just opened a gift shop downtown and we wandered around fingering her devil duckies and stuffed animals and then went over to the Kvelstad Pavilion for the St. Lucia celebration. The Leikering dancers performed traditional dances from Finland, Sweden, and Norway, the little girls swirling and bobbing. Their outfits were a mix of fabrics, not the standardized red and blue I remember from my childhood. But all the little girls had long hair held back in braids, unlike the seventies and eighties when my peers had either short hair or big perms.

A storyteller gathered the little children and told a long story about a Norwegian king who committed adultery, was poisoned by his queen, and the illegitimate baby who rose to power as the King of the People. He kept insisting and this is a true story and the crowd stared up at him, holding his wooden goat. He talked about house gnomes, and then about the history of St. Lucia. He said that she was martyred, her eyes gouged out, that she was beaten and then burned at the stake. Other parents stared at him with open mouths, but I laughed. It was real storytelling of the kind I remember hearing from immigrants who still had accents, who couldn't read English. The storyteller said that many years after Lucia died the people in Sweden were starving, and they prayed for assistance. A beautiful woman came by boat with food and clothing and before they could thank her she was gone. It was Lucia, of the light.

The Vikings could be seen down the boardwalk, holding torches, marching toward us. They were dressed in skins and roped boots, the fire reflecting on the still water of Liberty bay. One of the women stopped to stand guard at the fire pit. The others marched past the crowd and down to the marina to receive the Lucia Bride.

She could be seen dimly across the water, in a wooden viking boat, attended by fire, the oars dipping in unison under the flat black water. She wore a wreath of electric candles. My son decided this was way too much and departed with his grandmother.

The bride arrived and was escorted to the bonfire. The Vikings gathered in a circle and lifted their torches, giving tribute to the souls on the other side, the space between life and death, the incantation inciting the crowd to let the light of the fire warm their lives in the coming year. The Lucia Bride held a torch to the wood and the Vikings screamed and brought down their torches and the bonfire shot up into the night.

We took the Bainbridge Island ferry back to Seattle and drove up to Ravenna for a champagne reception at our real estate agents house. We stood in a corner eating canapes and talked to a massage therapist and librarian, said hello and goodbye to our hosts, and moved on to the next party.

The company had rented all the reception areas at Seahawks Stadium. We were issued drink tickets and wandered into the crowds. There were billiard tables, free food and dessert, long lines for drinks. We moved further into the assembly and found the stage show, an circus act, with trapeze and fire.

Upstairs we found a jazz band, a rock band, and gambling. We wandered from room to room amazed by the spread, the excess, the clothing of the other guests. It was semi-formal and two different company groups were present so we saw a whole range of fashions, from the fabulous to the faux-pas (even I know that you don't wear pantyhose with fancy open-toe high heels).

By the time we made it home, we were too exhausted to do much except lay in the middle of the living room floor and stare out the windows at the trees and lights.

Posted by Bee at December 12, 2002 09:38 AM