Made in Russia in 1959, "The Christmas Visit" provided for the holiday (which officially did not exist) while showcasing Soviet scientific superiority. Kind of kooky, but no less insane than American Christmas.
Of course, there's no telling what liberties were taken by the people who dubbed this into English. It's fun to compare this to the very first Christmas cartoon in this series, which was also done in Russia but in 1913 (Here Come the Cartoons, 12/03/10).
Tuesday was weird. There was a good lull in the rain, so I took the opportunity to go out and do grocery shopping for the holiday weekend. This year I actually put together a daily menu so I'd have the right stuff on hand and not have to run out to grab missing ingredients.
I was driving down Mentor, a one-way street clearly marked "no stopping at any time," and there was a car stopped in the righthand lane, just in front of the entrance to the store parking lot. I pulled left around them, signaled for my righthand turn and felt them ram into the back of my car as I made my turn.
I backed up and parked on the street, and an old woman emerged from the passenger's side. She had a heavy slavic accent. "Dis vas yur vault!" she was saying. The driver, a younger woman, sat in the car. I went around and checked my fender and there was a foot-long scratch but, hey, there are lots of scratches on my car, as it's 12 years old.
"You were stopped in a no-stopping zone," I said. "And you hit me from behind, so you obviously didn't look for traffic before pulling forward."
"No, no," she protested, "You come from wrong lane."
"Because you were illegally stopped in the right one."
About this time the young woman got out.
"Well, what's the damage to your car?" I asked. We walked over and checked the driver's side headlight. There was a inch-long scratch in the paint and a small piece of the rubber gasket around the light housing was half peeled back.
"Here," the old woman said in an injured voice, "You see vat you do!"
"I was turning into the parking lot," the young woman said.
"And you cut us off!" the older one exclaimed.
"Well," I said, "I can give you my insurance information and you can give me yours and we can call the police and wait for someone to come out and document this." The old woman glared at me. The young one looked worried.
"You were breaking the law," I repeated. "There's a sign right there and one right back there, and they both say 'No Stopping at Any Time.'" All was silent.
"You're going Christmas shopping, aren't you?" I asked. They both nodded. "If we file a report, you'll get a ticket and I might get one, too. Why don't we say we were both at fault and live with the scratches? The important thing is everyone's all right."
"I'm a sick old woman!" was the reply.
And then. "I think you're right," from the driver.
"Let's get our shopping done," I said, moving back to my car, and added without really thinking, "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas!" the old woman called. The two words had worked magic on her, and she seemed almost chipper.
This store has a strange holiday energy. Five years ago, Steve and I were pulling into the parking lot Christmas Eve to pick up last-minute stuff. He hit the curb and blew out a tire.
As Steve was gnashing his teeth and we set about to change the wheel, a man pulled up next to us in the parking lot and said, "Looks like you need some help." While we watched, he pulled a pneumatic jack from his truck, popped the wheel and had the new one on in no time, chattering happily all the while. "Merry Christmas!" he called on the way into the store. We returned his hail.
This is all very heartwarming, in an automotive way, but I am avoiding this Ralphs store within 10 days of any major holiday from now on.
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