Greetings: The other day I was talking wood heating to an old timer who had spent some time in the Canadian military. During his career, he had been stationed in various places in Europe, sometimes small villages. he told me that tradition required that the Chimney sweep receive a kiss upon completion of each cleaning. At first glance, I thought my friend had seen "Mary Poppins" too many times. However it made me think to ask on the forum if there is any truth to his story, and of course, who does the kissing??
To Kiss or Not
- Thread starter Firestone
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Firestone said:
"In parts of Great Britain it is considered lucky for a bride to see a chimney sweep on her wedding day. Many modern British sweeps hire
themselves out to attend weddings in pursuance of this tradition. It is also considered good luck to shake hands with a chimney sweep or
to be blown a kiss by one."
http://www.answers.com/topic/chimney-sweep
Doesn't sound like the kiss involves body contact.
I had the sweep out yesterday and I shook his hand but I coulda kissed him.
He gave me peace of mind to keep burning another 11 years. That's how long I have to live according to a life expectancy calculator I used yesterday.
Wow, 11 years. That's about 90 more cord of wood I gotta move. I hope it was wrong.
He gave me peace of mind to keep burning another 11 years. That's how long I have to live according to a life expectancy calculator I used yesterday.
Wow, 11 years. That's about 90 more cord of wood I gotta move. I hope it was wrong.
kenny chaos said:
Dangerous to believe in things like that....One of my best friends in the universe was told she had 6 months to live....That was 11 years ago and she is one of the most fully alive human beings I know. She never believed the prediction and had too many things left to do - no time to die.
My wife just informed me that there is some ancient German lore about kissing the chimney sweep. It is supposed to give you good luck. Somehow I think today they would simply prefer the cash............................I think if you kissed some of the sweep types around Northern NY you would lose a few teeth. I bet you would do better handing him a beer.
Maybe your friends wife was hot for the chimney sweep and they made this up....?
But I do know that it's a tradition in Kansas to kiss the guy who delivers wood, because that's what my wife keeps telling me. ;-)
(luckily I deliver all our wood)
But I do know that it's a tradition in Kansas to kiss the guy who delivers wood, because that's what my wife keeps telling me. ;-)
(luckily I deliver all our wood)
This all sounds very superstitious, and I have always believed it is bad luck to be superstitious ;-)
My wife kisses me after I sweep the chimney. Well, after I take a shower.
For some reason this reminds me of a story my mom tells. When her and dad got married she was a member of a womens business sorority. She was doing the initiation steps and the last one was to kiss the milk man when he delivered the milk (it used to be delivered to the house back then). She had the group over for coffee and when the milk man came to the door she laid a big one on him. It was dad who was our Bordon milk man at the time.
For some reason this reminds me of a story my mom tells. When her and dad got married she was a member of a womens business sorority. She was doing the initiation steps and the last one was to kiss the milk man when he delivered the milk (it used to be delivered to the house back then). She had the group over for coffee and when the milk man came to the door she laid a big one on him. It was dad who was our Bordon milk man at the time.
The Kiss
There is strange, and yet not strange, is the
kiss. It is strange because it mixes stillness
with tragedy, and yet not strange because
there is good reason for it. There is shak-
ing by the hand. That should be enough.
Yet a shaking of hands is not enough to
give vent to all kinds of feeling. The hand
is too hard and too used to doing all things,
with too little feeling, and too far from the
organs of taste and smell, and too far from
the brain, and a length of arm from the heart.
To rub a nose like some, that we think is so
silly, is better, but there is nothing good to
the taste about the nose, only a piece of old
bone pushing out the face, and a nuisance in
winter, but a friend before meals and in the
garden, indeed. With the eyes we can do
nothing, or if we come too near, they go
crossed and everything comes twice to the
sight without good from one or the other.
There is nothing to be done with th ear, so
back we come to the mouth, and we kiss
with the mouth because it is part of the head
and of the organs of taste and smell. It is the
temple of the voice, keeper of the breath and its
giving out, treasurer of tastes and succulences,
and home of the noble tongue. And its portals
are firm, yet soft, with a warmth, of a ripeness,
unlike the rest of the face, rosy, and in women
with a crinkling red tenderness, to the taste not in
compare with the wild strawberry, yet if the
taste of kisses went and strawberries came the
year round, half of joy would be gone from the
world. There is no wonder to me that we kiss,
for when mouth comes to mouth, in all its stillness,
breath joins breath, and taste joins taste, warmth
is enwarmed, and tongues commune in a
soundless language, and those things are said
that cannot find a shape, have a name, or know a
life in the pitiful faults of speech.
--Richard Liewellyn
“How Green Was My Valley”
Aye. Now were talkin',
Marty
There is strange, and yet not strange, is the
kiss. It is strange because it mixes stillness
with tragedy, and yet not strange because
there is good reason for it. There is shak-
ing by the hand. That should be enough.
Yet a shaking of hands is not enough to
give vent to all kinds of feeling. The hand
is too hard and too used to doing all things,
with too little feeling, and too far from the
organs of taste and smell, and too far from
the brain, and a length of arm from the heart.
To rub a nose like some, that we think is so
silly, is better, but there is nothing good to
the taste about the nose, only a piece of old
bone pushing out the face, and a nuisance in
winter, but a friend before meals and in the
garden, indeed. With the eyes we can do
nothing, or if we come too near, they go
crossed and everything comes twice to the
sight without good from one or the other.
There is nothing to be done with th ear, so
back we come to the mouth, and we kiss
with the mouth because it is part of the head
and of the organs of taste and smell. It is the
temple of the voice, keeper of the breath and its
giving out, treasurer of tastes and succulences,
and home of the noble tongue. And its portals
are firm, yet soft, with a warmth, of a ripeness,
unlike the rest of the face, rosy, and in women
with a crinkling red tenderness, to the taste not in
compare with the wild strawberry, yet if the
taste of kisses went and strawberries came the
year round, half of joy would be gone from the
world. There is no wonder to me that we kiss,
for when mouth comes to mouth, in all its stillness,
breath joins breath, and taste joins taste, warmth
is enwarmed, and tongues commune in a
soundless language, and those things are said
that cannot find a shape, have a name, or know a
life in the pitiful faults of speech.
--Richard Liewellyn
“How Green Was My Valley”
Aye. Now were talkin',
Marty
It's done right before you pay the guy. When he goes to present the bill you prance over to him and try to give him tongue. It gets you a great discount. Suddenly he isn't interested in collecting.
Matt
Matt
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