I do have my favorite ornament from my family home in Omaha up there, near the top where no one can break it. It was sold at the Philips 66 station across from church and we would get them after mass. It was a styrofoam ball with silky threads clinging to it, making it seem satiny and smooth. My and my sister’s and mom’s job was to stick the ball with sequined pins and ribbons. Total 70’s Christmas glamour. I see that one and I get misty every year. Every week they would have a new style and we would clamor to get the new kit. Now if I could just see that Norelco ad on a black and white of Santa Claus sledding through a pine-treed hill….

Thanks Ann, for yet another beautiful and thought provoking story, and thanks to all for posting your thoughts too. Happy New Year!

When my siblings and I were younger, we had St. Nicholas day. Stockings were filled and left by our bedroom doors on the 6th of Dec. This is probably the result of my mom’s German heritage. Back then we lived in Florida and my Dad would “flock” the tree with this white spray stuff, meant to look like snow. I guess we were hoping for a white Christmas.

Anyway, I loved your heartfelt story and hope you don’t mind me stopping by.

Christmas has always been hard for me as I’m usually not able to be with family. Decorating the tree and church services at this time of year often leave me with a strange mix of emotions. This was also the first year I put up a tree since my divorce two years ago and it was sad going through ornaments that used to mean something and now are just memories of something unfulfilled. What was left was a theme tree – a theme of colors and not much else. Our tree growing up was always so much more and, while not my personal style as an adult, carries so much more weight now that I understand that the stories behind all of the ornaments mean far more than the aesthetic appeal. My goal going forward is to create a tree that has those stories and that history,….tears while decorating be damned!

This year, our tree was drawn on a piece of paper from my daughter’s big roll of paper from the easel she no longer has. She covered the entire coffee table with it, so it’s close to 3 feet tall. She drew the tree and then taped on the ornaments that she made in class. We looked for a small fake tree this year, but never found one. Our apartment is crammed too full of crap for a real or large fake tree. Single dad life apparently comes with more large crap than I really should have here. Who knew?

Admittedly, I’ve not been in the most spirited of Christmas moods the past two years. The divorce really sucked that out of me- hopefully only for now. The idea of getting a real tree and then finding or buying ornaments and lights just made me feel ill this year. Last year, she drew a tree to go with the tiny little potted tree we bought a few days before Christmas. It was actually something like Italian Rosemary, or something like that. It died a couple days after Christmas when she was on vacation in Cancun with her brother, mother and “mommy’s friend Chris”. Somehow I neglected to water it while she was gone.

I have short memories of many different Christmas traditions involving ornaments of all types. I can remember making ornaments with my mother- the Queen of Craft. I even remember learning how to do cross stitch so I could make ornaments with her. After my folks divorced, we still got a real tree and we still put out the ornaments, but I got the job of putting the angel on the top (because I’m tall) and stringing the lights around the tree. My sister and I helped mom with the ornaments and the stories of many of the ornaments would be told. It was always a nice little night. Not a big production at all, but fun.

My first marriage resulted in a few good trees and the creation of what I thought would be lifelong traditions. I was wrong of course. But at least I drug my few family ornaments out and placed them on the tree. They followed me into my second marriage and managed to make it onto a few great real trees before ending up on plastic trees- including one particularly ridiculous one from IKEA that looked like an anemic version of the sad little tree from the Charlie Brown special.

After the second divorce, I have no idea where the Christmas ornaments are now and I admit that it doesn’t hurt too much, for now. I vaguely recall an “I found a box with some of your ornaments in it” either mentioned on the phone or sent in a text message. I think. After reading your story, I’d kinda like to get them back to preserve those poignant memories of grandparents that have been long dead and marriages buried by time and new memories. I’d like to preserve a little something for my daughter. Something that we can eventually call our own tradition- other than trees drawn on craft paper with crayons and taped to a wall.

I have my few bits of memories of what Christmas was, when it meant more to me. Before the crushing defeats of life lived under the rule of emotion and not logic. The dreams of a dreamer break painfully. But now I want to find something for her to remember when she sits crosslegged on the floor sorting through our life. I owe her that much for Christmas, since the toys will break or be lost and the clothes will be outgrown.

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.

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.