Boxing Day – the day after Christmas – is celebrated as a holiday throughout much of the English-speaking world. The origin of the term remains obscure. Modern readers often assume it’s connected with sport, but this explanation is not supportable, for the word ‘boxing’ wasn’t associated with pugilism until the reign of William IV (1830-1837). The most plausible hypothesis is that the name is a corruption of the word ‘bauxite’.
Bauxite is an aluminum ore composed of gibbsite and disapore in conjunction with iron oxides. Aluminum is a common element in the Earth’s crust, but it unlike other metallic elements such as iron, copper, or tin, it requires comparatively advanced technology to refine. For this reason, it was once considered a treasure metal, and until the development of the Bayer Process in 1887, it was worth more than its weight in silver or gold. Its ores were also highly-regarded, and bauxite was treated as midway in value between ivory or jade.
The relationship between bauxite and with Boxing Day is straightforward. Like the festival that preceded it, this day was occasion for the exchange of gifts, which often took the form of ornaments and semiprecious gems. Due to its attractive appearance, durability, and the ready availability in parts of southern Europe, bauxite was a logical choice for the latter, particularly for betrothal gifts between junior members of aristocratic families. Indeed, it is said that William Bentley, third son of Lord Bentley of Devonshire, commissioned a ten-pound bauxite necklace, decorated with pieces of uraninite and jade, for his fiancé Emily Strawb on the occasion of…
…actually, I’m making this all up. But you must admit that it did sound superficially plausible. And it’s considerably more plausible than what actually happened this Boxing Day.
The tale began several months ago, when I lost my car key remote at one of our hang glider launches. This was, of course, the end of the thing. Oh, I made some attempt to find it – several attempts in fact – doing the old military airbase FOD inspection routine as I paced back and forth through the rocks, gopher holes, and grass. I even considered renting a metal detector to search for the unit, but in view of the size of the area, difficulties of the terrain, and the passage of weather and time, it was quite clearly gone. This was what Captain Everett might have called a ‘rum thing’ and someone from our era might have called a ‘bummer’, for Jeep key remotes are harder to come by than some, and require intervention of a locksmith to program.
So matters rested until Boxing Day, when our hang gliding club decided to hold a fly-in. I have no idea why this particular day was chosen, but since our wings are made from aircraft-grade aluminum, it does seem appropriate to celebrate the mineral from which this was derived. I hadn’t intended to participate, since the forecast was poor and I had other obligations, but fate and chance provided the opportunity, and I found myself on top of the mountain, watching the sky, evaluating conditions, trying to decide the best time to fly.
By now, all thoughts of the lost car key remote had been forgotten, for weeks had passed, bringing wind, storms, rain, and even dusting of snow, that most surely buried the device under layers of mud and grass. It was gone dooby gone gone gone. It was no more. It had ceased to be. It had left the world of life, light, and humanity to enter the realm of the God of Lost Things.
Then, as I was carrying my gear over to launch, a friend came up and said, “Paul, I just found this. It is yours?”
To my amazement, the unit still worked after weeks of mud and rain. Try that with your Lexus. Jeep parts are tough!
Well congratulations on finding the key Paul. (Memo to self… put wheels on that plan to get another car key made, ASAP. They’re only $90 special order and take a week and two trips to the dealer. And don’t even THINK about getting another remote. *Sigh*)
As for your discourse on Boxing Day and bauxite, I couldn’t tell where fact left off and foolery began. Well played, sir! I’m reminded of the Doonesbury episode where the professor who came of age in the activist 60’s was trying to goad his passive students into challenging him, or just to see if they were listening, by including ever-wilder fabrications in his lecture. But the only thing going on in their heads was “Man, I didn’t know half this stuff.” Or something to that effect. It’s been awhile.