Showing posts with label Christmas tree. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas tree. Show all posts

Friday, October 2, 2020

Happy Thanksgiving - a bit early

 


The holiday season is almost upon us. My favorite time of year and it begins with Thanksgiving. Actually, in my house, it begins a week or so before.

Since we no longer host Christmas with my children – too many of them for our small house – the kids have taken over. However, we still do Thanksgiving dinner here – with a couple of the kids and the rest come over later for dessert – so I put up our tree and Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving.

When the kids were small, we used to put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Neighbors all told me we were nuts. Funny, how many trees and decorations I see on Thanksgiving, and even before now days. It warms my heart. Guess I wasn’t so crazy after all.

Anyway, as I said the holidays start with Thanksgiving. Of course, we have the traditional turkey and dressing (after the blessing – oh wait that’s a Christmas song) and then the other kids come over – as well as grandkids – and we have dessert. Usually more than we can possibly eat.

It’s been my tradition ever since my kids got married to give them something on Thanksgiving, usually a Christmas decoration of some sort. I was into ceramics for a while, so naturally they got ceramics, a Santa Claus ornament or statue. Then I was into woodworking and made them Santas, Christmas trees or other ornament. Eventually I was into red work embroidery and made them wall hangings of – who else – Santa Claus. I started quilting and yep, you guessed it, I made them table runners – no not of Santa Claus – and wall hangings (Santa of course). Eventually I started buying them ornaments.

My son and daughter in law begged me not to get them anything this year. They’re out of wall space and their tree is full of ornaments. I’ll have to see what I can come up with, because no way am I breaking that tradition. That’s part of the fun of the holiday season. Maybe I’ll be nice this year and look for Santa Claus candy, something consumable.

When I was younger, my mom started baking the day after Thanksgiving, making huge cans (potato chip cans and not the small ones) full of cookies. Back then everyone entertained and visited a lot during the holidays. Sadly, that practice seems to have stopped.  There wasn’t a weekend that went by without some aunt or uncle coming to visit. I loved those days. I don’t bake as much as I used to and certainly don’t start the day after Thanksgiving.

The first weekend in December, my daughters and I spent the days shopping. They used to help me pick out gifts for their children, but since their kids are all grown up now, (well most of them are, I still have a couple young ones) I don’t need to shop for them anymore. I’ve taken the lazy, safe route and give them cash. I’m sure they like it better. Once they’ve moved out or married, they join the ranks of the adult couples gifts, usually something homemade now since we’ve retired and money is tight.

Christmas Eve is spent with my siblings – two brothers and a sister. We’ve lost a sister and brother some years back and it’s not quite the same. Nieces and nephews used to join us, but that was back before most of them married. Now they have other families to share the day with and we’ve dwindled from a group of 37 down to 8 plus a couple nieces and nephews whose families are out of town.

I still love the holidays and look forward to them as much or more than any child. The hustle and bustle of getting ready, the family gatherings, and spending time with loved ones. I’m very blessed and thankful to have all my children and most of my grandchildren within twenty minutes of me. We miss the ones who can’t join us, but it’s still a lively group and growing by leaps and bounds. Not only are some of the grandchildren married or dating, they’re having children of their own. I dread the day when their parents decide it’s too much and they want their own families around them for the holiday. I know that day will come, maybe sooner than I think, and it’ll sadden me, but I do understand. We had to do it also as our kids grew and had families of their own. But for now, I’ll enjoy what God has so richly blessed me with. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Time to Love Again

 The man next door, his granddaughter and her sister’s ghost help bring Rose Asbury out of her seclusion. Fifty-eight year old, Rose Asbury knows people think she’s a recluse, but she doesn’t care. She just wants to be left alone. She doesn’t need anyone and no one needs her and that’s just fine. At least she didn’t until this year. For some reason this year is different. Suddenly she’s melancholy and discontent with her life..

And the man next door doesn't help matters. Every time he sees her, he insists on speaking to her. So her stomach tumbles every time she sees him, that doesn't mean anything. Hunger pains, nerves, she just wishes he'd leave her alone. Or does she? 


Friday, December 7, 2018

Decorating with Dad by Eileen O'Finlan






This Christmas will mark the twenty-second time we’ve celebrated the holiday since my dad passed away at the age of sixty-six.  My family is big into holidays.  When I was a kid the house was decorated for every one of them, even the minor ones.  Christmas, though, was the ultimate.  No one got more into the decorating than my dad.  He turned our home into Christmas Land, inside and out.

Christmas decorating got underway once we’d returned from Thanksgiving weekend at my grandparents’ home in Bennington, Vermont.  Dad was in a festive mood after several days of feasting and visiting with a houseful of relatives.

First the living room had to be rearranged.  Over the years Dad, an engineer by trade, developed a strategy for furniture placement.  One layout was for Christmas, the other for the rest of the year.  It wasn’t just the furniture, either.  Knick-knacks and whatnots all over the house exchanged living quarters with the Christmas decorations boxed and stored in the basement.

Once the room was rearranged, the tree set securely in its stand and watered (until we switched to artificial trees), the most difficult and least fun part began - stringing the lights and garland.  Extra bulbs were kept on hand since if one went out they all went out. That meant testing every bulb on the string until the culprit was found, replacing it, and hoping that one worked.  Heaven help us if more than one bulb went out at the same time.  Dad wasn’t much for swearing, but those bulbs were almost guaranteed to elicit a few words more colorful than the lights. 

My sister, Cindy, and I endured the interminable wait in order to pounce the moment Dad finished.  It was our job to help hang the tinsel and ornaments.  We delighted at seeing these old friends that had been out-of-sight, out-of-mind for a year, especially the ones that hung on the trees of my mom’s childhood.  My favorite was a set of three delicate, sparkly silver shoes each with a tiny child inside representing Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.  Mom and Dad joined in the tree trimming while we all sang along with the Christmas albums on the record player.



Once the tree was completed, we moved to the rest of the room.  The top of the huge black and white TV was large enough to hold the snow village.  Each house and the church were painted cardboard fitted with a light bulb making their colored cellophane windowpanes glow.  There were decorated pine trees and elves made of pinecones, pipe cleaners and felt.  Flimsy it may have been, but it was cherished.  A tinkerer at heart, Dad kept adding to the village.  A mirror became a skating pond, tiny lamp posts graced the “street”.  The village eventually outgrew the TV top and had to move to a new location.

A gold bell that played Silent Night hung from one doorway, mistletoe from another.  A lighted church sat on the end table on top of sparkly white cotton batting emulating snow and surrounded by Nativity vignettes.  Mr. and Mrs. Claus stood on either side of the fireplace.  The last thing to be displayed was the crèche.  I loved the smell of the papier mache figures and the soft glow from the blue light illuminating Mary’s robe.  In the weeks to come I would spend hours playing with the crèche as if it were a doll house.

Not a room escaped decoration.  Every window had a candle either on the sill or hanging inside a red wreath.  Even the bathroom had a bubble lamp and a candle in the window.

Then came the outside.  A large plastic lantern, later to be replaced by a Santa, brightened the front porch.  Dad strung colored lights along the porch railing and throughout the hedge in front of the house.  After a heavy snowfall red, blue, yellow, green, and purple lights shone through giving the hedge an otherworldly glow.

There was no such thing as too many Christmas decorations as far as Dad was concerned.  Over the years, he made tree ornaments including drums and sleds with each of our names on them.  He outdid himself the year he made a perpetual calendar.  The scene at the top was attached with Velcro and could be changed with the seasons.  Naturally, the Christmas scene was the best.  It was a miniature replica of our living room right down to the same wallpaper and the clock and candlesticks on our fireplace mantel.

 

 
















With the decorating complete, our home was transformed.  Every day of the Christmas season I played in the wonderland of my own personal Christmas Village.  Every night glowed with colorful splendor.  The saddest for me was the weekend after New Year’s when everything came down, packed away in the basement, the magic gone, the house returned to normal.  It was like waking up from the best ever dream.

Since Dad’s been gone, I decorate the house.  Though my taste is a bit different from my dad’s, I seem to have inherited his love for holiday decorating. I still move furniture, to give the tree pride of place.  I miss the smell of papier mache from the long lost crèche, my current one being made of sturdier material.  I love to sit in the living room in the evening, gazing at the lights on the tree, the one remaining Wynken, Blynken and Nod ornament always prominent.  I can feel Dad’s presence in the quiet of the evening.  Our styles are very different, but unlike me, he was decorating for kids.  His joy came as much from the glee his efforts brought to us as from his own enjoyment of the holiday.  I think he is smiling with me as I create my grownup version of Christmas Land.  And I’m certain he would appreciate the invention of pre-strung lights on the Christmas tree.

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