Friday Night with Heidi, Rudolph, and Special Banana Bread

It's been a long, hard couple of weeks. I needed a break, so I watched the DVD I had ordered from Netflix prior to Christmas but had not been able to view because of the mom drama. "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" was tonight's fare. Yes, you heard right.

How many years--nay, dare I say decades--has it been since last I saw "Rudolph"! But recently I had heard a segment on NPR about a puppeteer who had rescued the original Rudolph from the trash bin and was restoring him to his former glory. This prompted me to put the DVD in my cue.

What a perfect complement Rudolph was to a few slices of "special" banana bread. This, too, was supposed to have been enjoyed on Christmas Day, but instead I froze it, knowing it would not be a good idea to pack it in my luggage. Those darned, working-overtime German shepherds!

I noticed things about the movie that I had not noticed as a child. Top of the list is that the male elves wore coats but no pants. And these coats covered their bums alright, but they were cut high in the front, revealing not only their crotches but the bottoms of their tummies too.

If you don't recall, the major theme is "Misfits have a place too." Remember, there's Rudolph whose nose precludes him from participating in the reindeer games but whose blinker comes in handy during a blizzard on Christmas Eve. Then there's Hermie, the elf who longs to be a dentist, and Yukon Cornelius, the prospector who never finds silver or gold. And there is the Island of Misfit Toys, a sad assembly of boats that can't float, a jack-in-the-box named Charlie, a bird that can't fly, and a train with square wheels--all abandoned by children who preferred conventionality to novelty. Even the abominable snowman is a misfit who finally finds his true calling--placing stars atop Christmas trees without the aid of a ladder.

All these misfits got me thinking: Why is it that the misfit story in all its multitudinous machinations is so common when there are truly so few misfits in our conformist society? It seems every coming-of-age story is about a misfit who saved the day and was embraced by his fellows for his inner beauty and his courage against the odds, yet, truly, how often have real misfits been so lauded? Perhaps after they're dead, sure enough, but when they're breathing? It's hard to come up with a single example.

Well, maybe this is all just the banana bread talking.