Let's go half-way 'round the world to an island in the Bering Sea.
Unalaska is part of the Aleutian Chain. Like the rest of the state of Alaska, it was colonized by Russia in the 18th century. Monday was Russian Orthodox Christmas, and many Alaska Natives celebrated it. Aleuts in the city of Unalaska are still celebrating.
They are observing, and preserving a Ukrainian custom that wraps up tonight.
Charles Homans of station KIAL explains.
As the Christmas service ends at Unalaska's Cathedral of the Holy Ascension, the churchgoers head across town. The caravan of trucks and SUVs follows a winding road along the rocky, windswept coast of the island to the small apartment building where Father Jonah Andrew, the local Orthodox priest, lives. Soon the living room is packed with more than a dozen people, from toddlers to grandparents, all of them singing.
They sing in three languages: One is Unangam Tunuu, the Aleut language. Another is Slavonic, the liturgical language of the Russian Orthodox Church. The last part of the song is in English.
Father Jonah and the singers exchange a call-and-response Christmas greeting in all three languages. Then everyone digs into a spread of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy.
This is a custom known in Alaska as Selaviq, which comes from the Russian word for "glory." It's also called "starring." Selaviq was introduced to Alaska Natives in the late 19th Century by a Ukrainian priest. Starting on the Orthodox Christmas, people carry brightly decorated stars from door to door, singing and eating along the way. The procession and the carols pay homage to the journey made by the magi, who according to the Bible followed a star to the manager where Jesus was born.
One of the two stars making the rounds with the carolers tonight belongs to the Lekanoff family. It's made of wood and glass, and was built about 70 years ago. Patty Lekanoff-Gregory says that each detail has meaning.
"There's no nails holding it together, of course because Jesus was crucified on the cross. So this one is just by a peg and dowel situation. And then on our star, it has pictures of flowers from Unalaska."
The Lekanoffs' star is about three feet across. It rotates in a flurry of tinsel and jingle bells. The men who carry the stars have to keep them spinning while the carolers sing. It's a uniquely Alaskan twist to an Eastern European tradition.
"Hey, come on in...."
The singers knock the snow off their boots in the doorway of the third house of the night. Suzi Golodoff welcomes them with cider and brownies. Her husband Ben grew up in Unalaska in the early '40s. Nowadays, the carolers only visit the homes of members of the local Orthodox congregation. But Golodoff says that when he was a boy, and Unalaska was still a small village, the singers visited everyone.
"Everybody's house. Didn't make no difference who they were. Everybody got a piece of Christmas. Especially the house that had the most stuff to eat. When you're kids you figure things out!"
By the time the singers reach the fifth house, I'm starting to get seriously impressed with their stamina. They've been at it for almost four hours, singing and eating and shuttling back and forth in the cold wind. They still have three more houses to go and they don't even seem tired. I ask Janis Krukoff how they do it.
"I think it's just from everybody just feeding you so well, and the high energy from singing."
The caroling wraps up around midnight with one last feast of local traditional food including salmon and octopus. It's a late night for the kids, but Krukoff says it's important for them to be here.
"Sometimes people say, 'Oh jeez, they're in the way,' or 'Let the adults in first.' But kids won't learn unless they tag along."
For the World, I'm Charles Homans in Unalaska.
