1970
It’s four days before Christmas, and my father finally retrieves from beneath the cellar stairs the huge Sears box that houses our Christmas tree. The tree is heavy, its metal trunk solid and plumed with thick branches trimmed with rough-cut green cellophane that simulates pine needles.
It’s the only Christmas tree I’ve ever known, and when my father wrestles it upright and folds its heavy wire branches down, one by one, it’s as magical to me as a butterfly unfurling new wings. He gets pinched once or twice by the boughs as he tugs them into place. “Goddamit,” he says under his breath, to no one in particular.
Then comes the endless detangling of lights (“Goddamit!!”), and my favorite part: the box of ornaments. Most of our Christmas tree ornaments are flimsy or plastic—cheap molded candy canes painted with red, uneven stripes; cardboard stars dipped in white glue and glitter; small plastic elves trimmed sloppily with felt, their faces painted by someone who slap-dashed their eyes on, completely askew from the divot meant to replicate a tiny plastic eye socket. But I love them all.
What I love best, though, are the few fragile glass balls that predate me and are carefully hung in a place of honor on the tree, high up in front. They aren’t particularly fancy, but they are beautiful in the eyes of a 6-year-old. My favorite is a fat little ball with a pointed tip, painted with a picture of a small white snowman holding what looks like a palm tree, but which I later realize is supposed to be a broom.
I don’t really fully know the story of the handful of painted glass ornaments on our tree—and I still don’t. They might have been purchased by my parents as newlyweds, or possibly they once hung on a tree at my grandparents’ house. But those years, they add import and sophistication to our metal tree, erected in the basement rec room. We aren’t a family prone to cultural or ethnic traditions: Like many of their generation, my parents have fully embraced the conveniences of the suburban New World and cast off the Old. But, still, our Christmas has the ornaments, and I associate them in a murky, unfocused way with all that is rich and good about family history, and ritual, and tradition.
1973
I am invited to my friend Heidi’s house for a Christmas party. Heidi’s mother is German. She swings open the door just as we hit the top step, at the threshold, and as we pass through… her meaty arms swing heavily, like hams in a butcher shop, over our heads. “Velcome! Velcome, children!” she says.
Heidi’s mother serves a kind of sweet bread I now know was stollen. It’s doughy and lemony and studded with fat raisins, and I can’t get enough of it. The bread was home-made, Heidi tells me, a point which I think confusing, because to me “home-made” is a package of brown-and-serve dinner rolls served heated in the oven, and I had never seen anything close to this braided bread in the pre-baked bakery aisle at the supermarket.
Heidi’s Christmas tree isn’t a tight cone like our perfect metal tree, I notice. Instead, it’s a real tree, messy and shapeless, with drooping boughs that shed needles on the carpet. Real candles are clipped to it, here and there, and though I’m old enough to wonder whether that’s safe… I still like the way they look. Heidi’s house—the stollen, the tree, her mother—seems full, and ample, and generous, a lot like Christmas itself should be, I think.
When I get home, I tell my mother about the party: the candles on the tree, the stollen, the tradition Heidi has of leaving her shoes by the fireplace on a certain night so Saint Nicholas will fill them with candy if she’s been good.
I ask my mother whether we might be a little German. She hugs me and laughs and says we are not. But that night she lets me put my shoes outside the door to my bedroom, because we don’t have a fireplace, and in the morning my sneakers are full of candy canes.
She was adamant about the tree, though, when I pushed my luck for a real one: “Why?” she said, in a tone I know is useless to argue against. “A real tree makes a mess and is a pain in the neck.”
1979
My father spends this Christmas hospitalized with a lung cancer that will—by next fall—kill him, and my older brother opts to buy a live tree rather than set up the one that’s under the stairs. My mother, weary and distracted, doesn’t argue.
My brother drives a Plymouth Valiant, a boxy little car he inherited from our grandfather, so the best he can manage to tote home is a plump, stocky pine that, when he sets it in its stand, is shorter than I am.
With our parents at the hospital, my brother and I decorate it without them, one eye on the TV. My brother eventually stretches out on the couch with a beer, and though he occasionally glances over at me, he doesn’t get up again. I finish the job myself, placing the old glass balls near the very top of the tree, which is this year more or less even with my sternum. I’m happy about a real tree, at last, but it doesn’t deliver anything close to the wallop of tradition I had imagined it might.
1988
After both my parents had died, there was a surprising volume of things, collected over a lifetime, to sift through in a house that had once housed the whole six of us. On a hot day in August, my two sisters, brother, and I parceled out their stuff in as civil and equitable a way as we could manage. The heat in my parent’s small ranch was oppressive; the job was depressing. Both things made us cranky, which made communication strained, which made us skip some corners in the house just to be done with the whole business. Some things—the Christmas stuff, the family photos—were left with me with a vague understanding to divide it eventually.
That Christmas, I tried to separate the box of ornaments into four piles, one for me and one for each of my siblings. I sat on the floor with the ornaments scattered around me—the plastic Santa boot; the paper mache gingerbread house; the ridiculously heavy flour and salt dough ornaments my sister Karen and I had years earlier copied from an issue of Woman’s Day; tarnished silver bells; the chipped plaster pear; and a few old glass balls that had managed to survive over the years.
The more I sifted through them, the more unbearable became the idea of breaking up what I had come to see as a unit. Separately, they seemed imperfect and ordinary, and in truth they were, seeing as they were purchased from discount stores or crafted by clumsy hands. But, together, the collection of ornaments created a context, and took on a meaning that individually they couldn’t possibly have. Together, they had, I realized then, the kind of gravitas I had longed to find years ago, and which, for a while, I thought was reserved only for old glass ornaments. Or families who baked their own stollen and put candles on trees.
Ours was a different kind of family, maybe. But, together, the oddball collection nonetheless told a story of lives lived out over decades, of successive generations, of the ritual of a family celebrating around a tree, fake or real.
2008
This year, as we have for the past decade, we cut down our Christmas tree at the same small tree farm and lug it home on top of the car. That night, when we hang the ornaments on the tree, I mention to my kids which among the trinkets came from my parents’ house. That’s all I say about them. Neither of children has ever known my parents, and there’s not much else to add.
They get a bigger kick out of their collected history: the oddball stuff we are inspired to string alongside the traditional ornaments—a set of keys from my first house, a cork from a particularly memorable evening, my toddler son’s favorite teether.
If you were to walk into my living room, you’d see a Christmas tree festooned with a collection that, with a few exceptions, appears as any on any other tree in any other living room in the world this time of year. But it’s not. It’s a festive mingling of the dead and the living, the past and the present, and the traditions we are still writing.
So what’s on your tree?
Find more like this: Children, Family History , 1970s, Christmas, Christmas ornaments, Christmas trees, daughters, Family History, kids, mothers, personal history, traditions
Great post to cure any Christmas blues. Thank you so much for sharing.
Growing up we had a very small house which intern meant a very small tree. Now that I have my own home the bigger the tree the better. This years tree was so tall we couldn’t even put the star on the top but I knew as soon as I saw it that it was going to be our first tree as a newly married couple.
It has been fun adding a new person to my life (my new husband) who came with his own traditions, ornaments and stories. We did have to hash out a few things like my classic white lights versus his large blinking colored bulbs. We compromised, I get the white lights on the tree and he gets his large lights on our bushes outside.
When my grandparents passed away I was the first member elected from our family to go through their house, our house, the house my mother, all of my uncles and I grew up in. I was allowed to have anything but at the time I was younger and renting apartments and moving every year. I went for the small things that shaped my life or that represented bigger events to me. One of the first things I did was go into the attic and pulled out the Christmas ornaments. Like yours they aren’t the fanciest, they aren’t the shiniest. They are simple balls with tiny mirrors covering them. They blend in nicely with the Happy Meal reindeer I got when I was a child of the ’80s, the ‘Our First Home’ ornament we got after we purchased out house last year, the ornaments I made with clothespins and the lobster boat ornaments my mom hand painted. Now we have hung the classic ‘Our First Christmas’ ornament with the back of a car and a Just Married sign hanging in the back. When I step back from our huge tree the ornaments that catch my eyes are still those old glass bulbs my grandparents had. Some of them are shabby, some are missing a few mirrors and some of them still have metal paper clips for hanging them. I have real metal replacement hangers – I could replace them but its the fact that those were twisted on by my grandmothers fingers means more to me than the bulbs, or the new shiny bigger ornaments we have added to our tree.
I hope all of your holidays are filled with warm memories like mine and you are surrounded by good friends and family!
Great post to cure any Christmas blues. Thank you so much for sharing.
Growing up we had a very small house which intern meant a very small tree. Now that I have my own home the bigger the tree the better. This years tree was so tall we couldn’t even put the star on the top but I knew as soon as I saw it that it was going to be our first tree as a newly married couple.
It has been fun adding a new person to my life (my new husband) who came with his own traditions, ornaments and stories. We did have to hash out a few things like my classic white lights versus his large blinking colored bulbs. We compromised, I get the white lights on the tree and he gets his large lights on our bushes outside.
When my grandparents passed away I was the first member elected from our family to go through their house, our house, the house my mother, all of my uncles and I grew up in. I was allowed to have anything but at the time I was younger and renting apartments and moving every year. I went for the small things that shaped my life or that represented bigger events to me. One of the first things I did was go into the attic and pulled out the Christmas ornaments. Like yours they aren’t the fanciest, they aren’t the shiniest. They are simple balls with tiny mirrors covering them. They blend in nicely with the Happy Meal reindeer I got when I was a child of the ’80s, the ‘Our First Home’ ornament we got after we purchased out house last year, the ornaments I made with clothespins and the lobster boat ornaments my mom hand painted. Now we have hung the classic ‘Our First Christmas’ ornament with the back of a car and a Just Married sign hanging in the back. When I step back from our huge tree the ornaments that catch my eyes are still those old glass bulbs my grandparents had. Some of them are shabby, some are missing a few mirrors and some of them still have metal paper clips for hanging them. I have real metal replacement hangers – I could replace them but its the fact that those were twisted on by my grandmothers fingers means more to me than the bulbs, or the new shiny bigger ornaments we have added to our tree.
I hope all of your holidays are filled with warm memories like mine and you are surrounded by good friends and family!
Ann,
Great story. …almost like I was there.
When I was a small boy in the 60′s we always had a real tree, the only “FAKE” tree we ever saw was at my aunts house it was aluminum, with the color wheel….soooooo special. At some point (I cannot remember when, somewhere in the 70′s) the fake tree was bought and installed in the living room I hated that fake tree, it just didn’t smell right. In later years it never made it very far from it’s basement storage and was set up there so we could have more room. (the basement also enhanced it’s somewhat musty odor).
2008: Our tree is similar, things are hung on it for their own story, we to have a cork, a bandaid, along with several hand made ornaments that my nieces and nephews and friends children had made over the years. We also have pictures of friends, relatives, and pets dressed up in different seasonal outfits,many of whom we will not see this Christmas, due to distance, or they are just no longer with us. Each ornament on the tree is very special to us, and recalling the story is half the fun of decorating the tree.
On a final note flash back to 1979, I sure your brother must have gotten up to get another beer at some point, maybe stumble down the hall use the bathroom or rummage around looking for goodies to eat.
Damn you handley, made me cry again.
p.s. I wish I had that aluminum tree today, it’s not what the tree is made of, it’s what we feel about it.
Ann,
Great story. …almost like I was there.
When I was a small boy in the 60′s we always had a real tree, the only “FAKE” tree we ever saw was at my aunts house it was aluminum, with the color wheel….soooooo special. At some point (I cannot remember when, somewhere in the 70′s) the fake tree was bought and installed in the living room I hated that fake tree, it just didn’t smell right. In later years it never made it very far from it’s basement storage and was set up there so we could have more room. (the basement also enhanced it’s somewhat musty odor).
2008: Our tree is similar, things are hung on it for their own story, we to have a cork, a bandaid, along with several hand made ornaments that my nieces and nephews and friends children had made over the years. We also have pictures of friends, relatives, and pets dressed up in different seasonal outfits,many of whom we will not see this Christmas, due to distance, or they are just no longer with us. Each ornament on the tree is very special to us, and recalling the story is half the fun of decorating the tree.
On a final note flash back to 1979, I sure your brother must have gotten up to get another beer at some point, maybe stumble down the hall use the bathroom or rummage around looking for goodies to eat.
Damn you handley, made me cry again.
p.s. I wish I had that aluminum tree today, it’s not what the tree is made of, it’s what we feel about it.
I love your stories. I may try my hand at some of the memories of Christmas past.
I was just starting to begin a Christmas tradition. Two years ago, I purchased a cute little tree pre-lit after Christmas from Big Lots for $5. I also got some ornaments from the Dollar Store. Perfect. But my life is going in a different direction and even though I did put the tree up this year, last week, I posted it on Freecycle. Within an hour of posting, the tree was back in it’s box and off to its new owner. I miss that tree already, but I am hopeful that it is the start of a wonderful holiday tradition for another family. Happy Holidays.
I love your stories. I may try my hand at some of the memories of Christmas past.
I was just starting to begin a Christmas tradition. Two years ago, I purchased a cute little tree pre-lit after Christmas from Big Lots for $5. I also got some ornaments from the Dollar Store. Perfect. But my life is going in a different direction and even though I did put the tree up this year, last week, I posted it on Freecycle. Within an hour of posting, the tree was back in it’s box and off to its new owner. I miss that tree already, but I am hopeful that it is the start of a wonderful holiday tradition for another family. Happy Holidays.
Your writing is so consistently extraordinary Ann. Thank you for writing this.
We celebrate Chanukah, and taking out the menorah is bittersweet every year because it is one of the few tangible things i have from my late nana, whom I adored.
But I remember that my paternal grandparents had a tiny fake christmas tree when i was a little girl, and my grandmother would decorate it with tiny, wonderful things she’d collected.
the rituals are so lovely because they stay with us. sadly, the people who start them, often can’t.
Your writing is so consistently extraordinary Ann. Thank you for writing this.
We celebrate Chanukah, and taking out the menorah is bittersweet every year because it is one of the few tangible things i have from my late nana, whom I adored.
But I remember that my paternal grandparents had a tiny fake christmas tree when i was a little girl, and my grandmother would decorate it with tiny, wonderful things she’d collected.
the rituals are so lovely because they stay with us. sadly, the people who start them, often can’t.
Ann – this was a wonderful story of your memories of Christmas past. Thank you for sharing it with us. It’s made me reflect on Christmases past and traditions past as I struggle trying to make some new ones these last couple of years. Still trying to get there…
Wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas and all that is wonderful and bright.
Ann – this was a wonderful story of your memories of Christmas past. Thank you for sharing it with us. It’s made me reflect on Christmases past and traditions past as I struggle trying to make some new ones these last couple of years. Still trying to get there…
Wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas and all that is wonderful and bright.
Once again you managed to put a big lump in my throat with this beautiful and touching piece. Like you, I have ornaments that came from my parents; plain faded balls, a pine cone, a pinkish-red bell; which hang alongside collection of things that are the souvenirs of our life journey (like the little bride and groom from our wedding cake and the Domino’s Pizza “Noid”). The memories that each of these trinkets hold are more precious that any package under the tree.
Have a Very Merry Christmas!!!
Once again you managed to put a big lump in my throat with this beautiful and touching piece. Like you, I have ornaments that came from my parents; plain faded balls, a pine cone, a pinkish-red bell; which hang alongside collection of things that are the souvenirs of our life journey (like the little bride and groom from our wedding cake and the Domino’s Pizza “Noid”). The memories that each of these trinkets hold are more precious that any package under the tree.
Have a Very Merry Christmas!!!
I’ll go Amber one better: if you don’t make a book out of all these essays.
Growing up in a very Jewish area I was aware of Christmas mostly as something that happened on TV– hardly anyone I knew actually celebrated it. But there was one Christian family on our block and every Christmas Eve they had a huge party for all the Jews (it wasn’t like any of us had anything going on that night). So for one evening we got to experience Christmas with a real tree – the mom was a decorator so it looked like a picture from a magazine- plus Christmas cookies and (as I got older) liquor in the form of spiked egg nog and punch. We usually went down to Florida the following day ( it was always cheaper to fly on Christmas Day) where the tropical weather made Christmas east to ignore, so I was always grateful for that little peek we had.
2008 – as I sit in a resort hotel upstate surrounded by what seems like half the Jews in northern New Jersey, I once again get a Christmas Eve peek into the holiday thanks to your wonderul story and the comments from your readers.
Thank you
I’ll go Amber one better: if you don’t make a book out of all these essays.
Growing up in a very Jewish area I was aware of Christmas mostly as something that happened on TV– hardly anyone I knew actually celebrated it. But there was one Christian family on our block and every Christmas Eve they had a huge party for all the Jews (it wasn’t like any of us had anything going on that night). So for one evening we got to experience Christmas with a real tree – the mom was a decorator so it looked like a picture from a magazine- plus Christmas cookies and (as I got older) liquor in the form of spiked egg nog and punch. We usually went down to Florida the following day ( it was always cheaper to fly on Christmas Day) where the tropical weather made Christmas east to ignore, so I was always grateful for that little peek we had.
2008 – as I sit in a resort hotel upstate surrounded by what seems like half the Jews in northern New Jersey, I once again get a Christmas Eve peek into the holiday thanks to your wonderul story and the comments from your readers.
Thank you
Alan’s tweet pointed the way. The stories are rich & authentic. Best read for the holidays. May you and your family be blessed with a joyful Christmas. I’ll be watching for it next year.
Alan’s tweet pointed the way. The stories are rich & authentic. Best read for the holidays. May you and your family be blessed with a joyful Christmas. I’ll be watching for it next year.
Thank you, Ann, for a beautifully written post. And look how many people you touched with it….not to mention how many could relate to the “not quite the way we wished it could be” family holiday gathering. In hindsight, none are perfect, but all leave us with rich memories to bring to our own families. Have a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year!
Thank you, Ann, for a beautifully written post. And look how many people you touched with it….not to mention how many could relate to the “not quite the way we wished it could be” family holiday gathering. In hindsight, none are perfect, but all leave us with rich memories to bring to our own families. Have a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year!
Ann,
As usual, you knocked it out of the park! And not a dry eye in the house (including mine). The memories, which I tend to keep neatly stowed away along with my ornaments, came flooding back. And, no surprise, figured out again that we – as humans – have much more in common than we do differences. Trade the name and it could have been my house growing up…with the same brother on the couch…and the same German friend – who I even stayed with, once, for a whole summer vacation. I am so not kidding.
Thanks again for the peek in the past. It’s always my pleasure, dear. Happy holidays, Ann. I hope it’s filled with glorious warmth, peace, and light. 
Ann,
As usual, you knocked it out of the park! And not a dry eye in the house (including mine). The memories, which I tend to keep neatly stowed away along with my ornaments, came flooding back. And, no surprise, figured out again that we – as humans – have much more in common than we do differences. Trade the name and it could have been my house growing up…with the same brother on the couch…and the same German friend – who I even stayed with, once, for a whole summer vacation. I am so not kidding.
Thanks again for the peek in the past. It’s always my pleasure, dear. Happy holidays, Ann. I hope it’s filled with glorious warmth, peace, and light. 
Fantastic vignettes, Ann.
Our Christmas trees (and by that I mean my parents’ trees) have always been more design-oriented than sentimental. Sometimes they’re almost baroque; sometimes they’re minimalist, limited to small white lights and golden orbs. I just returned from their house — we celebrate on Christmas Eve — and I honestly couldn’t tell you what the tree looked like, except that it was nice.
I’ve never had my own tree, although I wouldn’t object if one were to appear magically in the corner.
Fantastic vignettes, Ann.
Our Christmas trees (and by that I mean my parents’ trees) have always been more design-oriented than sentimental. Sometimes they’re almost baroque; sometimes they’re minimalist, limited to small white lights and golden orbs. I just returned from their house — we celebrate on Christmas Eve — and I honestly couldn’t tell you what the tree looked like, except that it was nice.
I’ve never had my own tree, although I wouldn’t object if one were to appear magically in the corner.
I can relate to this beautiful story, even though I’m Jewish and we’ve never celebrated Christmas. But the idea of family traditions — some with known and many with unknown origins — is universal.
When our kids were young, we used to help our downstairs neighbors decorate their tree. I was a master at tinsel. I hated trying to untangle the string of lights.
We’ve borrowed one piece of Christmas tradition — we have Chanukah stockings for the kids and dogs hanging from the fireplace.
Since Christmas and Chanukah coincide this year, my holiday dinner will include oine of my favorites — potato latkes. If you’ve never had them, find a Jewish mom to make some for you. They’re the best.
I can relate to this beautiful story, even though I’m Jewish and we’ve never celebrated Christmas. But the idea of family traditions — some with known and many with unknown origins — is universal.
When our kids were young, we used to help our downstairs neighbors decorate their tree. I was a master at tinsel. I hated trying to untangle the string of lights.
We’ve borrowed one piece of Christmas tradition — we have Chanukah stockings for the kids and dogs hanging from the fireplace.
Since Christmas and Chanukah coincide this year, my holiday dinner will include oine of my favorites — potato latkes. If you’ve never had them, find a Jewish mom to make some for you. They’re the best.
As usual Ann, the combination of your memory and your exceptional writing ability has resulted in a lovely gift for the rest of us this holiday season.
I think that no matter the family, we’ve all got our quirky decorations, ornaments and traditions. And even if they don’t match up with anyone else’s, we cherish them for the very reason that they’re ours – precious and unique experiences and trinkets that are linked to our past. And by continuing those traditions, those of us with children hope to make that past part of our families’ future, for generations to come.
Thank you Ann, for all of your talents that you share with us throughout the year and for this post. And just to show you that I’m not all maudlin about this, I’ll try to leave you with a smile on your face.
“O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree
Fresh-made from the factory…”
As usual Ann, the combination of your memory and your exceptional writing ability has resulted in a lovely gift for the rest of us this holiday season.
I think that no matter the family, we’ve all got our quirky decorations, ornaments and traditions. And even if they don’t match up with anyone else’s, we cherish them for the very reason that they’re ours – precious and unique experiences and trinkets that are linked to our past. And by continuing those traditions, those of us with children hope to make that past part of our families’ future, for generations to come.
Thank you Ann, for all of your talents that you share with us throughout the year and for this post. And just to show you that I’m not all maudlin about this, I’ll try to leave you with a smile on your face.
“O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree
Fresh-made from the factory…”
I read this on Christmas eve via my iPhone, but, thanks to some rituals we were observing in our own family, was not anywhere near a computer (the fixed, desktop or laptop variety that is) until this morning.
I swear I think you write these tomes with the full intent of bringing tears to my eyes. If not, it’s a side benefit, because you did yet again Ann.
I’m getting to where I look forward to your posts as much as my morning cup of coffee and click the link in the email each time it comes with mixed emotions, an emotional cocktail if you would, a double shot of excitement blended with another of anxiety. Why? Because I know your post is likely to touch some deep emotional chord and bring back memories, though more often than not fond ones, not always.
This one did yet again.
At the risk of being too transparent, let me add the short version of my own Christmases past.
At least from the time my children were born in the 1980s, my family was well onto creating our own traditions and rituals. That is, until November 2004. That’s when my wife and I separated.
My sons, who were at the time 22 and 19, each took it differently. And though I believe it drove a dagger deep into both their hearts, the youngest seem to take it hardest. Needless to say, the first Christmas after was one none of us want to remember.
That was four years ago and the holidays are still difficult. If I let myself think of what could have been, what should have been, I’d approach the them with deep melancholy and regret. There are days I still do.
Now, I’m remarried and my wife, Amie, has done her best to take my sons into her heart and I’m happy to say we are on our way to creating a new set of traditions.
Someone once told me, “You have to feel it to heal it.” Reading this precious post has caused a measure of both to happen, and for that I thank you.
I read this on Christmas eve via my iPhone, but, thanks to some rituals we were observing in our own family, was not anywhere near a computer (the fixed, desktop or laptop variety that is) until this morning.
I swear I think you write these tomes with the full intent of bringing tears to my eyes. If not, it’s a side benefit, because you did yet again Ann.
I’m getting to where I look forward to your posts as much as my morning cup of coffee and click the link in the email each time it comes with mixed emotions, an emotional cocktail if you would, a double shot of excitement blended with another of anxiety. Why? Because I know your post is likely to touch some deep emotional chord and bring back memories, though more often than not fond ones, not always.
This one did yet again.
At the risk of being too transparent, let me add the short version of my own Christmases past.
At least from the time my children were born in the 1980s, my family was well onto creating our own traditions and rituals. That is, until November 2004. That’s when my wife and I separated.
My sons, who were at the time 22 and 19, each took it differently. And though I believe it drove a dagger deep into both their hearts, the youngest seem to take it hardest. Needless to say, the first Christmas after was one none of us want to remember.
That was four years ago and the holidays are still difficult. If I let myself think of what could have been, what should have been, I’d approach the them with deep melancholy and regret. There are days I still do.
Now, I’m remarried and my wife, Amie, has done her best to take my sons into her heart and I’m happy to say we are on our way to creating a new set of traditions.
Someone once told me, “You have to feel it to heal it.” Reading this precious post has caused a measure of both to happen, and for that I thank you.
Merry Christmas! A few of my favorite tree ornaments.. my son’s tiny moccasin, one of those kneeling elves that was past down and down, one ornament for all our pups past and present, and a painted pine cone from our son’s early childhood teacher–with a little note that said..See I was right he IS FINE!
Merry Christmas! A few of my favorite tree ornaments.. my son’s tiny moccasin, one of those kneeling elves that was past down and down, one ornament for all our pups past and present, and a painted pine cone from our son’s early childhood teacher–with a little note that said..See I was right he IS FINE!
Ann you did it again. You get me all weepy or thoughtful when writing.
I think B.L. said it best, the rituals are the loviest of memories because the people we make them with often can’t stay with us. It’s what makes those memories precious.
Ann you did it again. You get me all weepy or thoughtful when writing.
I think B.L. said it best, the rituals are the loviest of memories because the people we make them with often can’t stay with us. It’s what makes those memories precious.
Ann, I love the random ornaments, beloved pacifier, house keys. I like Christmas because I get a chance to make traditions with my little family. My son now insists that I go all out in decorating and always lights my smelly candles — he loves it and that makes me happy. My husband and I married in 1990 and each year he has given me an ornament. Those are the ones that the kids look forward to putting on the tree so I’m probably setting them up for a brawl in the future — YES!
Ann, I love the random ornaments, beloved pacifier, house keys. I like Christmas because I get a chance to make traditions with my little family. My son now insists that I go all out in decorating and always lights my smelly candles — he loves it and that makes me happy. My husband and I married in 1990 and each year he has given me an ornament. Those are the ones that the kids look forward to putting on the tree so I’m probably setting them up for a brawl in the future — YES!
Jeepers, Ann…like I wasn’t teary-eyed enough thinking about home! Funny, isn’t it, how the chipped porcelain and mismatched ornaments stir in us a nostalgia for our own chipped and mismatched families.
Hope you and your family had a wonderful, memorable Christmas. Cheers, my friend.
Jeepers, Ann…like I wasn’t teary-eyed enough thinking about home! Funny, isn’t it, how the chipped porcelain and mismatched ornaments stir in us a nostalgia for our own chipped and mismatched families.
Hope you and your family had a wonderful, memorable Christmas. Cheers, my friend.
You’ve captured Christmas with ‘Evergreen.’ I had never thought of it that exact same way, but you’re right. My tree is a similar collection of stories… Thank you, Ann. Merry Christmas.
You’ve captured Christmas with ‘Evergreen.’ I had never thought of it that exact same way, but you’re right. My tree is a similar collection of stories… Thank you, Ann. Merry Christmas.
That was really beautiful, Ann. Thanks so much for sharing it.
Our tree has really just been making me laugh. It’s a total mishmosh of my childhood and patti’s, or our young adulthoods and now our parenthood together. Thankfully, we weren’t too attached to anything because our toddlers believe that our tree is a just another house for their toys. They systematically take ornaments down, play with them, break them, forget about them and on and on.
It’s topped by a borrowed, GAUDY angel from our neighbors that is just too terrible for words – next year, a tree topper that matches our family is first on our list.
This was the first year that my kids ‘got’ Xmas. It has been more precious than I thought possible…and more fun.
Happy holidays to you…Julie
That was really beautiful, Ann. Thanks so much for sharing it.
Our tree has really just been making me laugh. It’s a total mishmosh of my childhood and patti’s, or our young adulthoods and now our parenthood together. Thankfully, we weren’t too attached to anything because our toddlers believe that our tree is a just another house for their toys. They systematically take ornaments down, play with them, break them, forget about them and on and on.
It’s topped by a borrowed, GAUDY angel from our neighbors that is just too terrible for words – next year, a tree topper that matches our family is first on our list.
This was the first year that my kids ‘got’ Xmas. It has been more precious than I thought possible…and more fun.
Happy holidays to you…Julie
Ann,
Nice post about Christmas past and Christmas present! I do find that the holidays remind us of where we’ve been in our family and life and having kids reminds us to keep and create traditions. My kids were excited when my mom gave us a lot of her old decorations last year. The Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus made out of Reader’s Digest magazines were a bit spent to say the least, but my kids loved them! I also think you realize how much your parents did their best with all the traditions, fun, and yes, stress of the holidays when you’re the one making Santa’s magic! Merry Christmas!
Ann,
Nice post about Christmas past and Christmas present! I do find that the holidays remind us of where we’ve been in our family and life and having kids reminds us to keep and create traditions. My kids were excited when my mom gave us a lot of her old decorations last year. The Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus made out of Reader’s Digest magazines were a bit spent to say the least, but my kids loved them! I also think you realize how much your parents did their best with all the traditions, fun, and yes, stress of the holidays when you’re the one making Santa’s magic! Merry Christmas!
What I love most about all the comments here was the honesty. A belated thank you, everyone.
What I love most about all the comments here was the honesty. A belated thank you, everyone.
A few hours ago I returned from 6 days of visiting and travelling to see the distant family for the Christmas holidays, the first Christmas since my husband’s Mom died. Feeling road weary after the 10 hour drive and all in all drained, I still decided to read Evergreen knowing the risk I took regarding emotions so close to the surface. As usual Ann, your writing was so wonderful and personal and always seems to get me thinking and reflecting.
Growing up an only child with a single mom, I had few traditions (and little stability
But I could never forget the gigantic white fake Christmas tree my paternal grandparents put up each year. It was so formal and staid, just like they were – not a bit of warmth… in a Christmas tree at that!
So now, in our home we get a live Christmas tree each year from the same local fund raiser location. And while my small family is not as enthusiastic as I am about the decorating I know they enjoy our tree full of eclectic ornaments that are a mish mash of home made and store bought that have been more or less consistent for the last 4-5 years.
After a day on the road and feeling a little seasick (from the car) the first thing I did tonight when we walked in the house and put down our bags was turn on the christmas tree lights… I knew then I was finally home – in my home, the way I want it to be. I can only hope my duaghter will warmly remember our holiday traditions and rituals and will one day ask for some of the ornaments for her own tree. Happy Holidays to all!
A few hours ago I returned from 6 days of visiting and travelling to see the distant family for the Christmas holidays, the first Christmas since my husband’s Mom died. Feeling road weary after the 10 hour drive and all in all drained, I still decided to read Evergreen knowing the risk I took regarding emotions so close to the surface. As usual Ann, your writing was so wonderful and personal and always seems to get me thinking and reflecting.
Growing up an only child with a single mom, I had few traditions (and little stability
But I could never forget the gigantic white fake Christmas tree my paternal grandparents put up each year. It was so formal and staid, just like they were – not a bit of warmth… in a Christmas tree at that!
So now, in our home we get a live Christmas tree each year from the same local fund raiser location. And while my small family is not as enthusiastic as I am about the decorating I know they enjoy our tree full of eclectic ornaments that are a mish mash of home made and store bought that have been more or less consistent for the last 4-5 years.
After a day on the road and feeling a little seasick (from the car) the first thing I did tonight when we walked in the house and put down our bags was turn on the christmas tree lights… I knew then I was finally home – in my home, the way I want it to be. I can only hope my duaghter will warmly remember our holiday traditions and rituals and will one day ask for some of the ornaments for her own tree. Happy Holidays to all!
Among other treasured ornaments, my tree holds:
- a painted gourd from a trip to Costa Rica
- a ribbon from my wedding bouquet
- a birdhouse painted abstractly by my then 4 year old son
- my husband’s grandmother’s Santa shaped bell
- the cuckoo clock ornament my brother Ian gave me 29 years ago
- my grandmother’s blown glass birds that clip to the branches with little pinchers
- an altar boy ornament that my mother used to hang on her tree as a child
- a number of handmade ornaments inscribed by my kids “Mom” and “Dad”
When we hang our ornaments, we share stories and laughs about them and about the people and places and experiences they represent. It’s one of my favorite parts of Christmas.
I agree Ann, the tree forms the heart of a Christmas house – it’s like a living family art project.
Among other treasured ornaments, my tree holds:
- a painted gourd from a trip to Costa Rica
- a ribbon from my wedding bouquet
- a birdhouse painted abstractly by my then 4 year old son
- my husband’s grandmother’s Santa shaped bell
- the cuckoo clock ornament my brother Ian gave me 29 years ago
- my grandmother’s blown glass birds that clip to the branches with little pinchers
- an altar boy ornament that my mother used to hang on her tree as a child
- a number of handmade ornaments inscribed by my kids “Mom” and “Dad”
When we hang our ornaments, we share stories and laughs about them and about the people and places and experiences they represent. It’s one of my favorite parts of Christmas.
I agree Ann, the tree forms the heart of a Christmas house – it’s like a living family art project.
Hi Ann,
Once again, your storytelling evokes powerful memories. Your post reminds me of a lot of good times. The ornaments for my family are snippets of language (pots and pans) and music (Godspell’s Day by Day), a private code unlocking lots of laughter.
Hi Ann,
Once again, your storytelling evokes powerful memories. Your post reminds me of a lot of good times. The ornaments for my family are snippets of language (pots and pans) and music (Godspell’s Day by Day), a private code unlocking lots of laughter.