Your understanding of “rakstītas kamanas” is on the mark, Arija. Also, the design patterns of folk costumes are referred to as “raksti.” The key point being that “raksti” existed before Latvians had a written language. Hence, in those ancient days of the Baltic tribes the “raksti” had a deeper meaning to our senči (ancestors) as symbols with the absence of an alphabet.

Cheers, Ivars

A simpler time?

Yes, the picture Irena creates is romantic, indeed….

Yet….......I am glad I am living today, having experienced some of the 6o’s at an age when it didn’t just “pass me by”, or go over my head, (or, for that matter, too much to my head!)

I once had an opportunity to go for a winter hay ride outside a town in rural Ontario.  We were 4 in our party, the snow was deep, the horses lively, and the company good.  I do remember the crisp winter air, the gentle jolts as we rode over some hilly terrain,  and the joy one of us had taking the reins.  It’s fun to go back to yesteryear as a tourist, I think, safe in the knowledge we can soon come home to a warm home, toilets that actually flush, (anyone remember trips to the outhouse on a cold morning?), dare I say telephones, and all those little things that have added to our comfort and convenience.

I know I open up a can of worms by mentioning the telephone, but it IS a lifeline as much as it sometimes can seem like a demanding thing with a life of it’s own.  I absolutely REFUSE to get a cell phone, finding my answering service and my computer quite enough for me in terms of electronic availability.  And sometimes I turn off those just to get some peace and quiet.

In the last big icestorm, I found it quite peaceful and calming, for example, even as the temperature dropped, so that my body and mind were able to get back in touch with the rhythms of the season and of nature itself.  I find real joy in these moments, as I have camping, during various Xmas trips to little country inns, etc, but the practical challenges of “roughing it” on a continuous basis make this idea, for me, untenable.  You see, I don’t drive, ride a horse or any motor vehicle of any sort, don’t plan to, etc, so city living meets my needs nicely.  When the first shoots arrive in the spring I’m out in my little garden just as soon as I can, and if I am invited to stay up in the Laurentians, winter or summer, I’m there.  But in short increments, as long as I can take my dog and one of my cats.  I have the utmost respect for those who can live a rural existence: nature is awesome!

Getting back to the snowy sleigh ride imagery, I will see if I can find a photo of the rakstitas kamanas as I am intrigued by the idea I am forming in my mind of the carved designs.  Perhaps I can find a photo of the blanket described above…...none of my Latvian friends has shown me anything of this kind, to the best of my recollection.

As I head out this morning in my gas guzzler, my brand new Border’s certificate in tow, I think—cik gribas, Baigi Gribas, gribetos aizbraukt tur…to that far away enchanted land of Juri K’s dreams…the Natik Mall ( I understand that there’s a Nordstrums there)!!!  But, alas and gosh by gee by golly—I’ll just have to settle for a far less loftier place, one closer to home to shop til’ I drop, so that I can get back in time to heat up the Chinese left overs in the microwave.  And after that, just maybe— romanticize about how it was back when…my Latvian Christmas.

Irena

Thanks, Ivar, for your explanation of our “raksti”.  I knew that the various ethnic designs carried meaning for our senci, like the etchings in the seven day rings and the various cross symbols stitched on the sleeves of our folk costumes. My mom had a lovely tablecloth with a wide border of the most beautiful ethnic designs, or “raksti”, she stitched herself. Who knows what story that border told?  So now I will think of “raksti” as our Latvian runes. 
I am so glad Anita brought up the “rakstitas kamanas” in this thread.

“I know we don’t have the hard work the grandmother had to prepare for her Christmas eve festivities.  Yet knowing all that, why do I still feel a longing in my heart when I look back on her life?”

Aria, I feel that longing that you speak of too.  But I think that the hard work is/was made lighter by people pulling together for the same common purpose.  There was the family unit and each and everyone in the household had his/her duties, responsibilities.  The men, along with the boys slaughtered the animals, went into the forest to find that special Christmas tree, cut it down and bring it home; while the women and girls shared with the food preparation, other chores.  There was a cohesiveness, a deep sense of belonging and this ‘belonging’ went even further than immediate family.  It included ‘place’, that special place where you were born, raised, where your grandfathers, grandmothers and those that came before them (your ‘senci’) called home—‘dzimtene’.  That particular place in time which is no longer (in many cases, neither is the family), nothing left anymore, but memories, this deep longing, desire to hold on to them, cherish them for as long as possible.  And even though, I myself, was never there in the same place and time, physically, I almost feel that a part of me was , through a kind of primal consciousness, osmosis (?) that seems to seep into my very core, transmitted from my parents, other Latvians of the same age group, as I seem to live through them vicariously, experiencing their happy childhoods/ Christmases.

Personally, I feel that the further we drift away from nature, the earth, the more unhappy we become, spiritually bereft.  It’s so much a part of what Latvians are about, after all—love of the soil, the mothering roots—earth, the abiding place where all things live and grow, as the native American Indians used to say.  Sadly, we’ve become a soft, consumerist society and I’m as much a victim , if not more, as anyone else.

Irena, who, still enjoys shopping (I tell myself it’s not so much about getting more and more ‘stuff’—but, looking at the storefront windows, how they’re put together, designed)  and I do love to drive my car, which really isn’t such a gas guzzler and beats public transport, being huddled together with sweaty bodies, drunks, whoever/whatever violating your private space.

PPS I have two wonderful Christmas cards sent to me by a friend who is an artist.  On one he’s drawn a sleigh with some very intricate, beautiful ‘raksti’.  The other shows a charming couple sitting in a sleigh with ‘raksti’ being pulled by a horse through the snow, with the city of Riga, glittering in the background.  Unfortunately, I can’t scan and post them here as this site no longer makes that possible.

***

I just got off the phone from speaking with Sylvia Lukes, who is home from the hospital after major surgery.

She told me the “rakstitas kamanas” were common for years in the small villages, predating Xtian times.  The closest translation she could offer was “designed sleighs.”  She also mentioned that city dwellers often looked down on what they considered this more primitive transportation, yet would enjoy the Christmas tradition of going to and from church in these sleighs.

Irena,Thank You.

If you do not write poetry,you should,because the piece you wrote on a Latvian family
unity at Christmas touched me greatly.
It is a gift,to be able to express feelings like you did.

Laimigu Jauno Gadu
Aivars

I agree, Aivars.  Irena you do have a gift for expressing feelings, the kind a latvian can relate to, especially one my age.
Thank you for bringing a Latvian country Christmas to life.

Dear Aivars and Arija,

Thank you for your kind words!  My first inclination would be to say, ‘ne, ne’, not really…but at this stage of my life, I’ll just be gracious and accept the compliments, the good thoughts.

Laimigu, Razeno Jaunajo Gadu jums abiem un visiem!

Sirsniba,

Irena