| Christmas Memories |
We always put up a real tree. Selecting the tree, and a wreath for the front door are an annual tradition. Hauling the heavy cast iro🌲n tree stand up from the basement along with all the ornaments, the wrapping paper, all the holiday paraphernalia. Once the tree is in the stand with water to keep it fresh, the fun begins. First the star on top. We’ve had it for years. Then the lights. Traditional ones, nothing fancy.
And now the ornaments: Victorian angels and Santas out of paper from the great grandfather’s tree in Kansas. His family were Mennonites, rather jolly ones who liked nothing better than to gather around the piano and sing carols with the decorated tree dominating the living room. And the food. Pennsylvania Dutch cooking, rich and flavorful and filling. Food was important to these hardy people. Not fancy food, but not plain either, just wonderful, tasty, Kansas cooking. And lots of sweets for the holiday.
I so treasure their old ornamemts. The ancient Santa made out of felt is getting decrepit, but I love him even more for his showing his long age. We have ornaments from a little craft village south of Tucson. A jackrabbit and an armadillo. We have an owl with feathers. She looks so real. Ornaments from my parents, some handmade in felt by my mother. I love each one of them.
Every year, as we age, our tree becomes a little smaller, but always big big enough to hold all these ornaments. The house decorations are, again, a family collection. Families are important this time of year. A link to the past, just as a new baby is a hope for the future.
I love the old carols, the religious ones, I sang as a child and often with a little chorus in church during the holidays. I love “Oh, Come All Ye Faithful” in Latin. So beautiful. Christmas carols are always special, replete with memories of Christmases past.
I bake a lot at Christmas, mostly my mom’s cookie recipes. She had the best. Her deft fingers created miracles with dough and icing. I miss her cookies so much. When I bake them, it’s not the same.
It’s okay to be sentimental at Christmas. Almost required. A little snow is even welcome, just a covering to turn the world extra-Christmas-y.
I would so love to go back in time and spend another Christmas at my grandmothers, with all the uncles and their wives gathered together. My uncle Bud had a sweet dog named Tojo who came from Japan after World War II. My aunts were all good at needlework, a skill I did not inherit. Politics were a banned topic, with two Democrats and two Republicans. My grandma did not like her children arguing. She did love to have her family together, and to cook for everyone. I dried dishes as soon as I was old enough. The camaraderie of the women together in the kitchen after the meal is something I always remember.
Time passes and our lives shrink, but they always expand at Christmas to welcome old friends and new. To welcome the holy family and relatives from near and far. It’s a beautiful, special time, and I cherish it every year.
🙏
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