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In past Christmases, I
have told you of the first Christmas tree
Frank
and I had (made from three) and my last Christmas with my father, when
he asked me to write his obituary as his Christmas present. Last year, I
rewrote the twelve days of Christmas.
This year,
when searching for something poignant or important about the season, all
I can think is, “icicles go on one at a
time.”
Every
Christmas tree is unique. None, even artificial ones, will ever look the
same. Some people have ribbon and bows, others use tinsel, some have all
white lights, some colored, some spray white snow on the branch tips.
Some have handmade ornaments, glass bulbs, or ornaments handed down
through the generations.
Some people
spend minutes on their tree, with few bulbs, lots of tinsel, and a bow
on top. Some have themed trees. (My mother’s friend,
Connie,
had a
Thomas
Kinkade
calendar and made ornaments from the pictures.) Some have color
coordinated trees. Every tree reflects the family, and is unique.
My family,
for some unknown historical reason, was a blue spruce with icicles
family.
Through the
years, my Mother has had some absolutely beautiful Christmas trees.
She’s had all the themes, I believe. All blue, all mauve, with ribbons,
with bows. One year, she had an ornate battery-operated ornament that
chirped like a bird. The current, and longest lasting theme has been the
angel tree.
We were not
a family that decorated the tree in minutes. For a perfect tree, a
beautiful tree, arrangement is a science. First, the lights have to be
placed just so, bright and twinkling, enough to light every shadowed
spot. Then, ornaments are hung on the inner branches, starting close to
the trunk and working your way out. Heavy ones go on the sturdier
branches, and little ones go near the top. Then, when you are done, the
branches must be draped with lots of flowing, sparkling icicles.
And, icicles
go on one at a time.
When Mother
got her pencil tree (a
Charlie
Brown
tree in my opinion, but she still can make it shine), I got her fake
blue spruce.
Before that,
our tree, if we had one, was small and scraggly. Our ornaments were
scarce, and cheap. But with the blue spruce, the serious tree science
returned to my life.
The first year of the
serious tree, Frank
attempted to help. He did not understand the science of arrangement, nor
the purpose for any, since he and I had none before. After that first
year, he now simply brings the tree to the living room, finds me an
extension cord, and leaves me to my science, alone.
When Mother
settled on her angel tree, I got many remnants of former themes: pink
bulbs, red and green balls, striped bells. I added them with my glow in
the dark plastic snow flakes, the few remaining ornaments that once hung
on my grandmother’s tree, ornaments my sister made. I have no theme, no
color coordination, but I do follow the original science, and I have the
secret ingredient:
Old icicles.
Long, flowing, heavy,
and made of lead. You know, the ones they took off the market in the
70’s. These are not flimsy short strings of silver plastic. They are
weighted metal nearly ¼ inch wide, unaffected by static cling or passing
breezes. These are not just fringe on a tree. They are what makes it
truly shine.
Now you
understand just how valued icicles were in this family. For 30 years,
not only did we stand and literally place hundreds of icicles on the
tree one strand at a time, we also removed them in the same manner, and
saved them from year to year.
As a child, the process
nearly drove me insane.
“Mother,”
I’d say in a long drawn out whine, “no one saves icicles,” and roll my
eyes. Now I’m doing the exact same thing, with a patience I have in no
other faction of my life.
Why?
In thinking of
Christmases past, I can remember well the year in high school when I lay
face up on the floor under the multicolor Christmas tree, staring up
into its sparkling colors. I remember the chirping ornament, and the
years my father arranged his Christmas toy train around the tree’s base.
I remember the mauve Victorian, and I remember the blue and white tree
like it was yesterday.
But I can
barely remember the presents I received.
It’s the
Christmas trees that have stuck in my memory files, because they were a
continuing science, a decorating skill unique to my family. They were a
traditional practice to create a temporary piece of art that brings
beauty to the season.
So, it seems
it is not what I got for Christmas that made the memories, but how my
family honored the tradition of the celebration together, year after
year.
This season, I wish you
the pleasures of fellowship, and joy in the little things. I wish you
peace. I wish you prolonged happiness, and some extra time to share
yourself with each of your loved ones.
For just as
icicles that make the tree, loved ones make the holiday…
And icicles
go on one at a time.
Merry Christmas!
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