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Ghosts from Christmas Past

| December 18, 2008 11:00 PM

There were hidden dangers in our homes at Christmas 20 years ago, and they may still be lurking. This column from 1988 is a “public safety” report. There are things the government wants us to worry about, and you readers know, we rarely joke here about bureaucratic concerns —

Well, Ho! Ho! Ho! to you. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, and what is front page in last Sunday’s paper? Big headlines, “Holiday Décor Can Be Hazardous,” underneath was worse, “Hidden Danger Lurks in Everything from Plants to Tinsel.”

I had been happy before seeing those headlines. Iris had served up golden brown French toast surrounded by crispy bacon, topped with maple syrup, and accompanied by a glass of milk. Now I was reading of Christmas terrors, poised to strike me and my loved ones. Glanced at the red poinsettia centering our table, then back to the newspaper, “… poinsettias … if any part of the plant is swallowed it can cause abdominal discomfort ….. while the milky sap from the leaves can cause irritation or dermatitis…”

With rubber gloves, I gingerly carried the poinsettia to the garage. No one wants dermatitis or cramps while eating breakfast.

Back at the table, read the facts about holly. “Iris! Why do we hang those cheery green leaves and shiny red berries on the dining room chandelier? Don’t you know that if one of those berries fell in my milk I could come down with “.. diarrhea, vomiting and depression of the central nervous system?”

Upset over the fate of her poinsettia, Iris must have forgotten it was “Happy Season” because she said, “George Ostrom! If you touch that holly, you’ll get more than a depressed nervous system.” Took the only action I could, moved to the end of the table before carefully biting what was becoming cold toast.

“George Honey! I’m sorry I spoke so sharply. Why don’t you stand in the doorway, then we could kiss and make up … under the mistletoe.”

“MISTLETOE? My God woman! We’ve got that deadly weed here in our house? Look what it says, ‘Mistletoe berries contain chemicals that can cause abdominal pain, diarrhea, vomiting, high blood pressure,’ and … and ‘COLLAPSE OF THE CIRCULATORY SYSTEM.’”

Iris handed me a pad and pen while I wondered, “What’s this for?”

“Please make a list of everything in this room that will not do you much good if you eat them. Start with the sink bleach, silver polish, kitty litter and Drano.”

“Could I wait until I’ve eaten my breakfast?”

“Forget breakfast. That stuff is bad too. Eggs in the French toast mean cholesterol. Bacon adds to that and salt brings high blood pressure. Bread is treated with chemicals. There’s sugar in the syrup, and butter’s suspect.”

It seemed like treason, but a man has to do what he has to do. Carefully, tore out the page of Christmas hazard warnings, from the “National Consumer Product Safety Commission.” Glanced at the last paragraph “.. do not burn wrappings in the fireplace.” Took the page, wadded it up with other paper from the waste basket, put it in the fireplace and touched ‘er off.

While Iris re-warmed by breakfast in the microwave, I retrieved the poinsettia from the garage, then smooched her beneath the mistletoe. I drink little coffee but joined her for a cup. She mentioned I might have ruined something important on the back side of the page, and our son Shannon, home from college, hadn’t read it yet.

“No Honey. There was nothing important on that side either. When Shan gets up, I’m going to see if he wants to go over to ‘The Gully’ and take a few wild runs down the hill on our old Flexible Flyer.”

“George! You haven’t gone coasting since the kids were little. What ever gave you the desire now?”

“On the back side of that page were other holiday scare stories. One said the “Consumer Product Safety Commission” figure 40,000 people will wind up in emergency rooms this year from sledding accidents.”

“You seem to be carrying your revolt a little far Dear. If you don’t get hurt on the coasting hill, are you going to come home and eat the poinsettia?”

“Maybe the poinsettia … but probably not the mistletoe.

— MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE —

G. George Ostrom is a Kalispell resident and a national-award winning Hungry Horse News columnist.