Call them what you want, they're still the best harbingers of Christmas

In those days they didn’t show up until around the beginning of December. The marketers hadn’t yet succeeded in pushing yuletide merchandizing back to mid-October.

As it was then, Christmas was Christmas and like all good things you were expected to wait and wait. Not always so easy for a kid. But then, in the first week of December grocery stores would suddenly be filled with little pinewood boxes. Within those boxes (that made wonderful kindling when chopped up later) was row-upon-row of turquoise paper-wrapped seasonal citrus delights.

Now, I must confess something here. There was no such thing as political rectitude when I was a kid. The use of certain terminologies didn’t immediately label one to be bigoted and nasty. Couldn’t have in my case. My parents, to my ongoing gratitude did not have a racist bone in their respective bodies, and to speak disparagingly of someone due to their heritage meant that severe punishment would be meted out. If the ‘N-word’ was to ever be uttered, that was deemed worse than any profanity. For their stance I am grateful.

At the same time, I am referring to a period not too long after World War Two. Consequently, the fruits to which I am referring were always called ‘Jap Oranges’. We knew no other term. Well, maybe Japanese Oranges, but usually Jap Oranges. “Ian, go down to the box and get a Jap Orange for your school lunch.”

Later, at university, I asked a Japanese-Canadian friend what they called them when he was a kid: “Jap oranges,” was his reply.

Later, of course, they were christened ‘Mandarin’ oranges, and even Satsumas. And now not all Mandarins come from Japan, but many are from China, and some even Korea. I think the Korean ones should be called ‘Hyundai’ Oranges.

And now, as I said at the beginning, the damn things appear in the stores in October, even September, so that bit of seasonal sparkle ahs been taken away. They are now in crappy cardboard boxes, and the individual oranges are no longer wrapped. Just not the same.

Not the same except in taste and aroma; they taste like Christmas. And the fragrance is only to be surpassed by the Noel-like pong of a freshly cut fur Christmas tree. And, as compared with regular oranges, they peel ridiculously easily. I might also mention, as a little-known Mandarin factoid, if you squeeze the peel and hold a match under it, you can light the oil that squirt out. Maybe this might be suggested as an alternative fuel?

Because of those things, I only acquire my Mandarins after the first of December regardless of when the stores want to push them on us.

Some things are too sacred to be trifled with.