A Holiday memory
December 24 2015
I just finished a dinner at Mom’s place with the family. We decided to try a potluck and everyone enjoyed it including Mom. She was very sleepy but kept coming awake to stare at Tom, Ross, Mike, and Peter. I think she wants to see them more often so when she does see them she drinks it in like water to her heart.
December 25 2015
Driving home from the dinner at Mom’s I got to thinking about the many Christmases we had as I grew up. I was thinking specifically about the trees we had and how we set them up. With one exception, the trees were always large and as tall as could be accommodated in whatever house we were living in at the time. Mom and Dad were both very particular about how a tree should fall open and spread itself so the selection of the tree was important. Were the needles soft and moist? Was there sap gumming at the base of the cut truck? Was it symmetrical? Was it a Fraser fir or a blue spruce? Those were acceptable. No others would do. Then home with it for the ritual of measuring the tree and the room and determining exactly how much to cut from the base to make it fit with space for the star on top. This was tricky because once the tree was up there would be no taking it down so it had to be right the first time. This was not a good lesson to learn. Dad believed that you had to get everything right the first time or you were not competent to learn it. He was a patient teacher to his men but not to his children.
Then where would it go? In the corner? In the center of a wall between two doors? It could not go in the window because Dad feared it would fall through if it tore loose from its moorings. Yes, moorings. Once the base was attached and the tree was standing level and straight; it was attached to the walls by a series of picture wires. Sometime Dad was secure with two but more often three wires were stretched from the tree to hooks in the walls. Our trees were not coming down unless an elephant charged them. This was a good lesson to learn: create a strong and stable foundation so that you could survive almost anything life threw at you.
Then, once the tree was secured, we could add the lights and ornaments and tinsel. Lights came first and took an entire evening. They had to be inserted deep into the tree and brought out to the most outermost tips of the branches. Every year, we bought more lights and every year we never had enough. Our trees shone like galaxies stuffed with brilliant stars and they were gorgeous even before the rest of the decorations went on. I think this lesson is “Don’t be afraid to go for broke. You can never shine enough so glow glow glow!”
After the lights and the required admiration of the brilliance of the tree; we began the unpacking of the ornaments. The star first which would be placed on the tree and then each ornament was hung according to size, color, and style. Every year ornaments were broken because the children were allowed to hand them to Dad for the top of the tree and every year Dad would miss a grab and the ornament would softly “pouf” on the rug below exploding little shards of glass everywhere for our bare feet. We had to decorate the interior and the back of the tree as well. Many years running I was assigned the task of decorating the back of the tree which would be inspected and eventually pronounced “Well done”. The lessen for me? “What is hidden from view is as important as that which is out front. Don’t skimp just because you think it cannot be seen. Someone will see it and will know that you skimped.”
But the special torture was the tinsel. I say torture because my brothers hated doing it Dad’s way. I hated it, too, but I loved the result. I thought it looked so gorgeous when it was done that it was well worth the effort. My father hung tinsel one strand at a time; over the entire tree. Five strands per tip would be hung with one inch of the strand on one side of the tip and the remaining foot or so of silver hanging free. Five strands hung individually on each tip. Consider that for one moment. Consider eight children striving to emulate their father. His method created a beautiful icy waterfall effect that was stunning when the tree was lit. The movement of the air as people walked by created shining ripples that reflected rainbows of light. I loved it. I hated doing it but eventually I learned to focus only on the task. Each little icicle was important for the entire effect to work. This lesson? Focus on the task and remember that each piece is a part of the whole and no piece is more important than the other.
I could tell you about the rages of my father when ornaments “poufed” or how he would snatch tinsel away to instruct us in the proper way to hang it. I remember those moments. I remember them clearly. But they have no beauty in them and while I can acknowledge them and keep them as part of who I am; I prefer the beauty of my life and that is what I chose.
I remember looking out from the back of the tree at my family as we hung ornaments, squabbled over who got to handle which ornament and I see my Mother’s face gazing at her children and loving them. I see my brothers and sister laughing and teasing in the way that large boisterous families do. And I remember the love.
I just finished a dinner at Mom’s place with the family. We decided to try a potluck and everyone enjoyed it including Mom. She was very sleepy but kept coming awake to stare at Tom, Ross, Mike, and Peter. I think she wants to see them more often so when she does see them she drinks it in like water to her heart.
December 25 2015
Driving home from the dinner at Mom’s I got to thinking about the many Christmases we had as I grew up. I was thinking specifically about the trees we had and how we set them up. With one exception, the trees were always large and as tall as could be accommodated in whatever house we were living in at the time. Mom and Dad were both very particular about how a tree should fall open and spread itself so the selection of the tree was important. Were the needles soft and moist? Was there sap gumming at the base of the cut truck? Was it symmetrical? Was it a Fraser fir or a blue spruce? Those were acceptable. No others would do. Then home with it for the ritual of measuring the tree and the room and determining exactly how much to cut from the base to make it fit with space for the star on top. This was tricky because once the tree was up there would be no taking it down so it had to be right the first time. This was not a good lesson to learn. Dad believed that you had to get everything right the first time or you were not competent to learn it. He was a patient teacher to his men but not to his children.
Then where would it go? In the corner? In the center of a wall between two doors? It could not go in the window because Dad feared it would fall through if it tore loose from its moorings. Yes, moorings. Once the base was attached and the tree was standing level and straight; it was attached to the walls by a series of picture wires. Sometime Dad was secure with two but more often three wires were stretched from the tree to hooks in the walls. Our trees were not coming down unless an elephant charged them. This was a good lesson to learn: create a strong and stable foundation so that you could survive almost anything life threw at you.
Then, once the tree was secured, we could add the lights and ornaments and tinsel. Lights came first and took an entire evening. They had to be inserted deep into the tree and brought out to the most outermost tips of the branches. Every year, we bought more lights and every year we never had enough. Our trees shone like galaxies stuffed with brilliant stars and they were gorgeous even before the rest of the decorations went on. I think this lesson is “Don’t be afraid to go for broke. You can never shine enough so glow glow glow!”
After the lights and the required admiration of the brilliance of the tree; we began the unpacking of the ornaments. The star first which would be placed on the tree and then each ornament was hung according to size, color, and style. Every year ornaments were broken because the children were allowed to hand them to Dad for the top of the tree and every year Dad would miss a grab and the ornament would softly “pouf” on the rug below exploding little shards of glass everywhere for our bare feet. We had to decorate the interior and the back of the tree as well. Many years running I was assigned the task of decorating the back of the tree which would be inspected and eventually pronounced “Well done”. The lessen for me? “What is hidden from view is as important as that which is out front. Don’t skimp just because you think it cannot be seen. Someone will see it and will know that you skimped.”
But the special torture was the tinsel. I say torture because my brothers hated doing it Dad’s way. I hated it, too, but I loved the result. I thought it looked so gorgeous when it was done that it was well worth the effort. My father hung tinsel one strand at a time; over the entire tree. Five strands per tip would be hung with one inch of the strand on one side of the tip and the remaining foot or so of silver hanging free. Five strands hung individually on each tip. Consider that for one moment. Consider eight children striving to emulate their father. His method created a beautiful icy waterfall effect that was stunning when the tree was lit. The movement of the air as people walked by created shining ripples that reflected rainbows of light. I loved it. I hated doing it but eventually I learned to focus only on the task. Each little icicle was important for the entire effect to work. This lesson? Focus on the task and remember that each piece is a part of the whole and no piece is more important than the other.
I could tell you about the rages of my father when ornaments “poufed” or how he would snatch tinsel away to instruct us in the proper way to hang it. I remember those moments. I remember them clearly. But they have no beauty in them and while I can acknowledge them and keep them as part of who I am; I prefer the beauty of my life and that is what I chose.
I remember looking out from the back of the tree at my family as we hung ornaments, squabbled over who got to handle which ornament and I see my Mother’s face gazing at her children and loving them. I see my brothers and sister laughing and teasing in the way that large boisterous families do. And I remember the love.