It's that time again. The unexplainable ( and probably inexcusable) Sander family tradition of
"Burning Elf",. About 1990 or 1991 Laurie and I started Christmas Eve Eve chili feeds that were non threatening and mostly beige enjoyments of haphazard christmas lights and hand me down decorations.. Somehow that very small, pleasant vanilla evening eventually morphed into a postmodern performance art of egotistical self importance that revolved on the construction of an up to eight foot tall paper mache elf that we would immolate to the cheers of gathered weirdos. Eventually "Burning Elf" took over the entire holiday season, or so it seemed. Through most of our children's lives, through the pandemic quarantine and the Trump years, elves were burnt . A couple years were skipped due to snowfall or the post election of a criminal madman depression cycle. I have built fifteen of these sad monsters to burn, and I am feeling their weight. It began as a reaction to the commercialization of Christmas, the elf being the ridiculous helper of the capitalist Santa Claus, and a riff on "Burning Man", and now it seems as threadbare as Xmas carols and Rudolph reruns. The truly sad thing is I really love those carols and Rudolph is a classic that still tugs at my heart. The date has moved to New Year's Eve Eve instead and that takes some pressure off. There is something nice in putting a paper wish in the elf's mouth or wishing away some wrong or abomination of the last year for him to burn away. Idiotic as it may be, there is a small catharsis that occurs. I like chili too.
