Christmas traditions

Think back on some of your earliest childhood holiday memories.

What comes to your mind?

I recall when my mother would pull out of the back of the closest all the holiday paraphernalia, packed away from the previous year. There were boxes of what, to a child, seemed to be a prequel to Christmas itself. I had of course seen the contents every year before but, still, that new unveiling, opening of the boxes, was like its own tradition. In those days, we went out and got a live tree. That, of course, had its own traditions, as kids my brother and I thought that we knew best, the perfect tree for Christmas. Always something of a real procedure . . . pulling limbs and limbs and the trunk, finding the stand, and getting the whole thing up and ready for the decorating. . . .if the snow fooled us that we had a full tree we then proceeded to fill it by drilling stick holes and filling it with gathered branches. Voila! Perfect tree to decorate!

Christmas music played in the background of chattering family. The room smelled of cookies and hot chocolate. The wood stove was filled to enhance the warmth. The room felt like it glowed with anticipation and excitement.
The lights, was the only real task taken on by the man of the house, my dad. Dad would grunt and groan, and fumble and futz, but ultimately the tree would twinkle with brightly colored lights. He’d stand back, give it the eye, and pronounce it ready for decoration. Then he’d go off and leave it to Mama and us kids.

Next were all those sparkling, fascinating-to-a-child, ornaments. Some of them had special meaning to my mother; others were simply pretty little doo-dads which she had collected over the years. It was our job, as the children, to carefully take each ornament as she pulled it out of its specific boxed home, put it on a hook, and then we became tree designers—finding that one specific, special spot for that particular ornament, a spot where no other ornament would do. This ritual was repeated over and over, until just about every decoration in almost every box my mother pulled out of the closet had found a temporary new home on a tree branch.

Hmmm. . . . What next? In those days, days before everyone was concerned about fire prevention and what was, and wasn’t safe, tinsel was unequivocally next on the list. Silver tinsel! Nothing else would do. Each of us kids would carefully receive a handful, and we were instructed to take only a few strands at a time—not big handfuls!—and lightly fling those strands onto the tree branches. It was to look as if long delicate icicles precariously held on, very much in danger of falling to the ground at any minute. This was an art, an art my mother strictly adhered to and which we, as her students, learned the finer points from her, the Master.

Last, always last for the tree, was the Angel! Always was an angel at the top of the tree, beautiful in a white dress. And at this point Dad would come back into the picture, since he was the tallest, place the angel on the tippy-top of the tree, and he and Mama would declare the tree officially decorated. He would again retreat, and she and us kids would stand back and admire our beautiful creation, for what seemed like hours.

It wasn’t hours, though, and we weren’t finished. The process of holiday home decoration had only just begun. The tree was simply the starter. There were still boxes filled with Christmas goodies. Out would come Santa’s , ceramic trees with lighted bulbs , thick garland and , of course, the mistletoe for the doorway into the kitchen—always the best place, it seemed, to catch someone unaware for a big holiday kiss!

And even amidst all the glitter and color and bright lights, all the fascinating and fun decorations with which a child could become mesmerized, there was still one last item that, every year, was a staple of our home’s Christmas decor. Cards received every year became part of our decorating process, yet this piece of the process was ongoing since cards were received almost every day from roundabout December first until well after Christmas day. We received lots of holiday cards. We placed a string across the walls early in the in December, and it allowed for each card to be enjoyed for the duration of the holiday.
Now to wait for the choir and Christmas Eve … that is another story …
What are your memories of holiday traditions? Do you, as an adult, carry them on now that you’re grown? Bring those fantastic recollections into your child’s life . . . they’ll thank you for it, and love being able to continue them as part of their family ritual.