butchiesmom's Mood: 
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04-17-2012 03:49 PM |
Christmas Reminiscing
Each year, I check out the beautiful Christmas trees in the stores, with their matching ribbons and ornaments, but I think they're incomplete. Where are the paper chains our children carefully carried home from school? What about the Styrofoam balls decorated with glue and sparkles, or popcorn balls wrapped in brightly colored cellophane? Though the trees are beautiful, they're blank pages without the special decorations a family gathers over time.
The best part of Christmas, for me, is decorating the tree. It starts with bare branches and ends with breathtaking beauty. Putting up the tree, when I was a child, followed the same pattern each year. Dad would prepare it outside and bring it in the house. Until we were old enough to help, our parents did most of the decorating. Growing old enough to handle the ornaments my mother deemed priceless, was a major milestone in our lives.
Tree stands were a container large enough to hold the trunk of the tree in water and a string nailed to the wall supporting the top. It would stay outside, on the front porch, until time to bring it in. That day, Dad would go downstairs, and come back up with two slats of wood, a hammer, nails and a saw. A few years later, they started putting it in water and tying it in the corner. I could hear him sawing the trunk, trying to make it as straight as possible, nailing the slats to the bottom of the trunk and wrestling it in the front door. Some of the trees he worked on, increased my vocabulary, considerably, with words I wasn't allowed to repeat.
Getting the tree into the living room was his biggest challenge. The front door was the first obstacle to hurdle (another interesting lesson in language). I don't remember one small enough to fit easily through the front door. His next challenge was the hallway leading to the living room. I can still hear him wrestling the tree down that hallway, cursing most of the way. Like a condemned prisoner, the branches would catch in places, grabbing any handhold in the struggle for just a few more minutes of life. The entry to the living room was the most difficult to overcome. The door to the basement stairs was a small open area just before the living room entry, and where the tree would make its last desperate stand. Watching to the struggle between man and tree, I was certain the tree would win. Somehow, Dad always triumphed in that strange contest.
After deciding where to put it, came the challenge of getting it upright and stable. Depending on the work, he did outside that could take a few minutes or a few hours. I can count on one hand, the number of trees not needing more than one support to keep it standing. Some would wait until decorated and then tumble over. I, vaguely, remember Mom talking about one tree falling on one of my sisters. Then there was the year one of our cats climbed the trunk, making it off balanced and to the floor. Most of the trees stood in a corner supported with a rope nailed to both walls. If done correctly, only a major earthquake (or a crazy cat) would've dislodged it. (The one which attacked my sister was an exception.)
The lights were the most difficult part of dressing the tree. The tiny ones we use today didn't exist back then. The bulbs on our string of lights, were larger, and heavier. When one bulb burned out, it was a test of patience to find the right one. Once all lights on the string glowed, it was time to place them on the tree. Now, unlike modern tree lights, the bulbs would get hot enough to burn anything they touched, so they had to be placed where needle and bulb wouldn’t connect. It's amazing to me there weren’t more tree fires with such lights.
Ornaments were next to be placed. I can still see my mother carefully placing them on the tree and she would tell us why each one was special to her. Some were purchased for our first Christmas; still others were given to her from people she held dear. Those ornaments represented a lot of my family's history. I don't think any of them were worth more than a few dollars, but to Mom, they were priceless.
My favorite ones were the bells we hung at the bottom each year to occupy the cats so they wouldn't climb the branches. It seemed to work; we rarely found any furry "ornaments." Even though I no longer have cats in my home, we still place the bells on the bottom branches and so do my daughters on theirs. To me, it isn't a Christmas tree without them hanging there.
Once our parents were satisfied with their work, it was our turn. We had to know the truth about Santa to be there. (He brought the presents and the tree.) The tinsel has always been my favorite part of decorating it. Grabbing handfuls of tinsel saved from the past, we would stand back and toss it at the tree, its landing place was where it stayed. It's amazing how much actually landed on the branches. With Mom and Dad doing some judicious tweaking here and there, the results were beautiful. We no longer toss the tinsel on the tree, placing it instead with greater care (my husband's idea), but now and then, I still yearn to grab a handful of tinsel, step back and pitch it.
Until Dad placed the angel on the top and draped a few strands of tinsel over its wings, the tree wasn't finished. One of my mother's priceless collection, I looked forward to seeing it sitting there. When we were finished, someone would turn off the overhead light, and Dad would plug in the tree lights. The colored lights reflecting off the shiny tinsel and ornaments were a breathtaking sight to me. It still is.
Now it's my turn to unpack my special ornaments and tell my grandchildren the story behind each one. Because of many moves over the years, I don't have thirty years worth of memories to unpack. Therefore, each one holds an extra special place in my heart. The priceless ones have the name of a grandchild I embroidered on them. When they start their own homes, they’ll receive their special ornament to place on their first Christmas tree.
During the Christmas season, I get up before sunrise and sit in the darkness; illuminated by tree lights, sipping a cup of coffee, and thinking of Christmases past. As the dawn approaches, I bask in the memories of sneaking candy canes off the tree, kittens playing with bells, and the look of wonder on children's faces Christmas morning.
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- I enjoyed this one immensely - The memories this piece evoke.......
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