“Old Fezziwig!”

A Merry Christmas to everyone from Great Exudations! This year we have a special treat for you. That timeless traveling troubadour, Tommy Treacle, was in the studio with me earlier this week and we were discussing all things Christmas. Below is a lightly edited version of our conversation. Enjoy!

Host: Welcome back, Tommy! It’s been far too long.

TT: Great to see you. How time flies, my friend. I’m beginning to feel like one of those old ghosts from Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol.”

Host: Which ghost would you be?

TT: I’d like to imagine myself as the fat and fun-loving one in the middle. The Ghost of Christmas Present, that would be. It’s best to live in the now when the drinks are cold and the food is still warm.

Host: Speaking of Dickens, do you have a favorite film version?

TT: I would say the 1938 film with Reginald Owen, probably because it as my first. I’m big on firsts. And I love the fact that Bob Cratchit and his wife were played by the real-life married couple, Gene and Kathleen Lockhart.

Host: I didn’t know that!

TT: I also greatly enjoy the 1951 film with Alastair Sim. But I have little time for the George C. Scott version that others seem to revere. I dislike the idea of an American playing Scrooge, even if the General Patton himself shared some of his less endearing qualities. Just too much muddle for my taste. I’m old school.

Host: Which character do you most identify with?

TT: No question. It’s Old Fezziwig. He embodies the warm generosity of Christmas. He plays such a small role but in a way he’s the heart of it all. His benevolence has shown the young Ebeneezer the way, and that kernel is what germinates into his subsequent redemption. I’m a Fezziwigger, all the way.

Host: I like that answer. And it’s a perfect segue to introduce the song you just played for me that was inspired by the Dickens novella. Have a listen.

Host: That’s a nice little song. I like how you gave the story your own spin. A sort of internal refraction. Maybe not a bad definition of art. And while we are on visual media, let me ask are you more of a “Grinch” or “Charlie Brown” guy?

TT: Oh, man, that’s a really tough one. They both hit such warm, joyful notes yet are accompanied by a rich and wonderful melancholy. Not nostalgia exactly because I think it was always there, tugging at the heart strings. We’re pitting that moving score by Vince Guaraldi against the evocative narration of Boris Karloff. Hmmm. If I could only have one, it would have to be “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Wait, no. Fuck it. I have to have both!

Host: Agreed.

Host: So, what was your favorite Christmas present as a child?

TT: That’s another hard one. I remember getting a really cool model of the Batmobile that came with its own hard plastic Bat Cave. Stoked the imagination. Wish I still had it, frankly. Oh, and a Wilson K2 football that I cherished until it finally wore out. How about you?

Host: My dad got me a subscription to Playboy when I was 16. I had already moved on to Penthouse by that time, but I really appreciated the gesture. He was welcoming me into manhood. Drawing me out of my Bat Cave, if you will.

TT: Ha! Indeed.

Host: And what’s your take on Christmas music?

TT: I love it. If I had to choose one, I’d go with Andy Williams. He just hits the right notes for me, his politics aside.

Host: Politics?

TT: Apparently a friend of John F. Kennedy, but also a lifelong Republican who loaned his song “Born Free” to Rush Limbaugh who then trolled animal rights activists by adding the sound of gunfire to it. Fuck that. But his Christmas songs are essential. I’m separating the man and his art here.

Host: Any other favorites?

TT: Early Sinatra, any Ella Fitzgerald, that Vince Guaraldi soundtrack we discussed… oh, and Nat King Cole!

Host: What other Christmas memories stand out to you?

TT: I remember coming home for the holidays from college and getting some terrible news. A childhood friend had died in a car crash when he was also returning from school. At the time, my older sister was working as a first grade teacher at our old Catholic school. She very sweetly conjured a scheme to life my spirits by asking me to play Santa for her class. And it worked! Now, at the time I was quite thin but she stuffed me fat with pillows and such. And somehow, despite my initial lack of confidence in the role, the kids took to me. God bless ’em. A few asked for Transformers or Barbie dolls. But one kid stood out who requested ten treasure maps! I absolutely love both the spirit and the specificity of that. He didn’t just want stuff. He wanted detailed adventure maps, exactly ten of them, to go find the stuff for himself. That kid intuitively knew what life was all about. He’s a Fezziwigger!

Host: I could sure use a treasure map, if you’re carrying. Do you have any more recent holiday stories you’d like to share?

TT: Well, one comes to mind that speaks to the current era. I have a collection of high school and college friends in the Washington, DC area who get together for dinner at a steak house just before Christmas every year. They’ve been doing this since the late 80’s and it’s called the Dinner of Men. I affectionately call it the Dinner of Dorks. I think I joined 8-10 years after its inception and have attended maybe half of them. In lean years, there might be a dozen people, but at high times there were over twenty.

Host: You can take the boy out of Catholic school, am I right? I assume these were drinking affairs.

TT: Oh, yes. Big drinking crowd. And most of the apples didn’t fall far from the tree. A mixed bag that skews mostly conservative based on family tradition, tax bracket, etc. Nice guys though, to a man. Anyway, the e-mail invite goes out in early December and the year in question was 2020, during the initial wave of COVID. Keep in mind that within that first year of the pandemic 270,000 people had already died and the vaccine was not yet available. So, the first few affirmative RSVP responses tricked in from die-hards and the flat-Earthers/ever-Trumpers. Then there was a lag of several hours which I abruptly ended with a little jeremiad.

Host: Oh, look out!

TT: To summarize my declining RSVP response had four points, as follows:

1. To that date, in less than a year, the CDC reported that about 30,000 people in our age bracket (55-64) had already died with COVID. I pointed out that the Vietnam War claimed 58,000 U.S. lives, but over a 7-8 year period. Think about that.

2. I pointed out that, to quote, “it’s not about you.” Because there are vulnerable populations of elderly and people with pre-exiting conditions or who are immunocompromised, some of whom are relatives and friends, one’s bravado about an infection that might be subclinical or mild in you but lethal in others is utterly misguided and, frankly, negligent. I stated that this was not some FOX News “alternative facts” universe but a harsh life-and-death reality. Tucker Carlson was spewing disinformation about COVID while quietly having his family jump the queue to get the vaccine. That is the problem.

Host: No doubt about it. Although a false revision of that history is ongoing, as the memories fade.

TT: 1000%.

3. That there was increasing evidence of longer term sequalae in survivors, like reduced cardiovascular function and neurocognitive effects.

Host: My buddy has intense fatigue following a COVID infection and is quite debilitated.

TT: Thankfully, it’s rare, but that’s a scary proposition. And keep in mind that in Dec 2020, we had no idea how it was all going to play out. No vaccine yet. Was this the Swine flu scare of 1976 or the Spanish flu of 1919? Anyway, I am pretty sure what followed was on account of my fourth talking point.

4.  Here I’ll copy and paste from my actual e-mail: “My good friend (Bob) who is an interventional radiologist just placed an ultrasound-guided suprapubic urinary catheter in an otherwise healthy male in his 50’s.  Why?  Because he had thromboembolic complications of COVID that resulted in frank necrosis not only of several finger tips but also of his DICK!!” And, holy shit, the responses came pouring in, all to the effect of, “Guys, I think I’m out this year.” That’s all it took, the existential threat to a man’s junk! If only we had started a national ad campaign based on that poor man’s incredibly unfortunate, and thankfully quite rare, complication (again, we didn’t yet know how rare). I’m convinced that 95% of men would have been subsequently vaccinated and been wearing masks religiously until the pandemic abated. No doubt in my mind.

Host: That’s incredible. Reminds me that I need to get the new vaccine. I hate to end this on such an austere note, but I want to thank you, Tommy, for joining us in the studio. It’s been a pleasure to hear you share some of your fondest Christmas memories from over the years. Do you have any final parting words for our audience?

TT: Yes. “Put yourself down for a towel.”