The Reindeer Keeper

I don’t remember when I started the Christmas tradition of making gingerbread boys to fill a few of my old tin cans but that doesn’t matter because today the tradition continued. I’m sure the gingerbread boys don’t look like much of a tradition sitting in those old tin cans; faceless and awkward, without icing hair or icing eyes or icing mouths or icing buttons down their fronts. Some are plump. Some have hands or feet that don’t match. One gingerbread boy left one of his arms in the cookie cutter and I had to perform emergency surgery. But to me they don’t need to be perfect. Nothing’s perfect. To me it’s the feeling I get when seeing them sitting in those old tin cans in celebration of Christmas; sitting there faceless yet oh so full of the spirit of the season without frills or fancy ribbons or designer names attached. They’re never eaten or dunked in coffee. They just sit there in their old tin cans as the snow falls and the north wind blows and Christmas comes and go...

On pg. 94 of my copy of this Betty Crocker Boys and Girls Cook Book there's a recipe for "Gingerbread Boys." It's rather worn-with traces of flour and stains from butter used when greasing the baking sheet so many times now that I really don't have to dig the recipe book out of hiding when deciding to bake another batch. I know the recipe. I know what to heat the oven to and how long to chill the dough and how long to bake the little guys because I make them every year. I have been for a very long time. It's one of those little traditions I do and when I do it I feel connected to what this season quickly approaching is all about. It's nice to think about that before the hustle and bustle runs rampant. That's why I like to get this cook book out early-sift through and remember. I actually think the cook book belongs to my sister-or my mother might have given it to all of us. It doesn't matter. What matters are the memories when looking at the fu...