- vanilla-scented text and toons by Crack

Before I begin, I have to state for the record that I'm not from the East Coast. I originate from a small city north of Chicago1 and, as such, am a Midwesterner by birth and by choice. New England is a very weird place to me, somewhat reminiscent of Monty Python crossed with Starbucks. There are plenty of phenomena unique to the East, and to New England in specific, which caused me no end of culture shock once I moved here: bizarre driving habits I can only describe as having an "insane death-wish"; square flags hanging from houses depicting scenes of animals, sports teams or the season's signature flora; and the funny way no one smiled at anybody else (lest they be an axe murderer or, worse yet, a Californian) and powerwalk past you like one of those wind-up toy soldiers on speed. But I am choosing to dedicate this article to the one thing I find absolutely, totally and indisputedly New England at its kookiest: candles. I was raised believing candles were these tubes of wax with a string inside that you light and put on a dinner table or possibly miniature versions of same on a birthday cake. I never realized that these cylindrical wonders were, in fact, the incarnations of All Things Good And Wholesome2. Candles are the gift of choice in New England. The gift. Once my husband and I bought our house, we were flooded with candles from our friends3. I won't even describe the "Festive Light" scented candles for Chanukah - many sweet gentile friends proclaiming "It smells like Chanukah!" [By the way, the scents of Chanukah are burning, usually oil or hair depending on who's cooking, not a spicy-mint-rain smell off a midnight blue candle.]4 Don't get me wrong, pyromania is a big part of Judaism, along with heaping helpings of food and guilt; however, we light nine tiny candles over exponential increments, not one big honking one to make our latkes and sufganyot smell minty-fresh. But I have to admit, it is pretty... or is it a just a clever trick to lure me into this craze? Yet, I digress: candles. I must have at least four candles in every room (including bathrooms and closets). There are more in boxes, cartons, drawers and cabinets. I have one large box filled entirely with embarrassingly half-melted pillars tucked away in the basement which I could use in case of a legitaimate blackout where others won't see them. At first I thought the locals knew something I didn't about the electric company or maybe it was a testament to the weather... all those "Nor'easters"5 I kept hearing about back home... but no, every home I've seen sports about a dozen of these wax darlings, in all shapes and sizes and colors, so it wasn't just a silly thing to pelt at the new kid on the block. I mean, they're candles, people! Aforementioned tubes of wax wrapped around a string! I was unaware they were scented or sparkled, mixed with mysterious herbs or implanted with dried flowers, layered in colors or suspended in liquids for the sheer delight of... lighting them? Nope. Candles are unique gifts in that while they are crafted for a purpose (i.e. to set them on fire), the majority of candles in New England seem to be everything from interior-decorating conversational pieces to household air fresheners. I can imagine the shock that would ensue should a New Englander discovered that I dared to light one.

NE:	"This one's melted."
Me:	"Yes, it was dark."
NE:	"You don't use orbs for light; use tapers or pillars. Do you have any pillar candles?"
Me:	"Sure. They're stacked next to the tea lights, over by the ones in the shape of flowers on lily pads, behind the large glass tureen filled with 'Ultra-Apple Blossom'."
NE:	"Where are your holders?"
Me:	"Pillars need holders?"
NE:	"Oh yes, they are usually glass and look like ash trays."
Me:	"What's the difference?"
NE:	"Candle holders don't have cigarette dips."
Me:	"Um... what about ones to air out the house?"
NE:	"Anything with a scent is good for that."
Me:	"They ALL have scents!"
NE:	"Oh no, the ones with labels on them with pictures of their scent; those are scented candles. The others are just regular candles, unless they're votives."
Me:	"Votives? What's a votive?"
NE:	"Bigger than a tea light but smaller than a quarter-pillar. Votives only have little labels that come off so then you have to smell them. But they come in many colors."

Every mall has at least one candle shop. There are two major "hubs" for candle-shoppers nearby, and folks can't believe I still haven't gone to either one. There's even a museum (ironically not a wax museum)6 created by the major candle-distributor in the area in order to draw more people in to buy candles. Candles are everywhere, they mean everything, they are the Hallmark of alternative-nocturnal entertainment should ever the cable companies cut us off cold-turkey.   And thus my transformation into a New Englander begins - not with a bang, but with a ball of molten wax.

1. For those of you who know the North Shore, I need say no more. For those of you who don't, I used to describe this shangri-la as one of the planets fighting for dominance in our solar system... closely competing with Earth and California to see who revolved around who. Now I correct this to include New England as a lesser moon. 2. Something like apple pie for Americans, bangers-and-mash for the English or haggis for the criminally insane. 3. Can you be flooded with candles? If so, we were. 4. Yep, you guessed it, I'm Jewish. Elfpants and I often kvetch about the holiday mishegas or kvell about our diasporatic mishpocha, nu? 5. Actually, they're an Easter-scented candle that's pastel lavendar and exudes a smell like stale Peeps. (Kidding!) 6. Believe it or not, it's an antique car museum. What this has to do with candles, I don't know. Personally, I think it's simply a monument to whichever person got stinking rich off of this whole candle gig and all their cars couldn't fit into their multi-level garage.