Why is Baby Jesus in the Manger?

Saturday, I almost wrecked my car driving past Loyola University in Chicago. Loyola is right up the street from my house, and I was driving a friend home when we passed the Nativity display.

"Why is baby Jesus in the manger?" I yelled, slowing to stare, indignant as we drove by.

"What do you mean? It's Christmas time. Of course he's in the manger!" she told me.

After debating the merits of the very large camels (which looked suspiciously like horses) next to the manger, we got into a pretty spirited debate.

I explained to her that baby Jesus doesn't go in the manger until Christmas morning. At which point, she looked at me like I had lost my mind. "Why would you wait?" she said. "They're not going to go out there and put him in the manger on Christmas morning. That's crazy."

Maybe she has a point. But I explained that where I come from, it's a big deal - baby Jesus doens't join the party until Christmas morning. You know, LIKE THE SCRIPTURE SAYS. Growing up, I remember some serious anticipation as to which of us would have the honors (it was even more special because my mom's dad had made the manger and the fences by hand that sat beneath our Christmas tree each year.) But then I wondered - if that's just a Catholic Cincinnati thing - what other "baby Jesus in the manger" things had Cincinnati given me?

Well, for one, there's my obsession with bakeries. This is probaby due partly to my dad - who can tell you the nearest bakery in any town within 10 minutes of arrival. But in Chicago, where the bakeries are spread across many, many neighborhoods, it's taken me years to develop the Bakery Inventory. For example, the best place to go for sugar cookies is Breadsmith on Wells in Old Town. Cupcakes? Sweet Mandy B's. Donuts? Hmm... That's hard. Nothing compares to Lawrence Bakery in Cincinnati - seriously, NOTHING is even close. But in a pinch, I'll have a Dunkin Donuts French Cruller (a Virginia Reel for those of you scoring in Ohio.) Chocolate Chip Cookies? Sue Van's on Lincoln south of Roscoe. Coffee Cakes? Dinkels. Only Dinkels.

And see, that little thing I just did? That's SCARY. But that's one of the things I loved about Cincinnati - and about mornings growing up. Dad would get up, drive to Lawrence Bakery (which was VERY far away from where we lived) and come home with donuts on Saturdays. Before we played soccer games. Hmmm. Maybe that's why those pounds add up now?

In addition to the Bakery Finder, I also picked up this other freakshow ability from my mother. From the time I was a kid, we'd go shopping. We'd wander through T.J. Maxx, or Marshall's, and skim the racks for good clothes that would be a true bargain. That's a West Side Catholic thing, partly. The knowing the best clothes thing - that's my mom. She's a rock star when it comes to finding the most expensive item on the rack - but not at the highest price. Trust me, you didn't need that tricky i-phone program if you had my mom on your side. She could tell you if it was a bargain - or not. And to this day, I can walk to a sale rack, and find the prettiest, most expensive item on markdown - by touch and feel. Now THAT is a useful skill.

Other Cincinnati-isms have left me over the years. For instance, I like food that has more than one flavor. (Was that mean?). And I drink beer produced by someone other than Coors, Miller, or Bud. I don't drive ten miles an hour when it snows or rains. (To be fair, they have more hills, but it's like a funeral procession sometimes when it snows there.)

But there are some parts of Cincinnati that will never leave me. I still want to spend my fun time with big groups of laughing, funny people, who remind me of my funny, crazy extended family. And I still want to stand in my mom's kitchen, smelling her great cooking. I want to catch up with my aunts and uncles and cousins and hear all about their incredible lives. And, yes, I still want to be the one who puts baby Jesus in the manger come Christmas morning.