I'm a Christmas girl. I was born in December, ten days before Christmas, so throughout my entire life the month of December has been one of anticipation and awe. And it still is. I'm just a big kid at heart.
As I ready my little apartment for the holidays each task brings back floods of memories of Christmas and December's past. Last week, I did something very out of character. I baked Christmas cookies! I've never really done that before. My mother and my sister Patsy are the bakers in our family. But this year, I did it too. It must have been a success because this week I do not have one single cookie left! Seriously, all the cookies made for Christmas were eaten before the second week of Advent. I might have to make more. While baking I remember watching my mom pouring over her cook books weeks before the holidays trying to decide which cookies to make that year. She always made a couple of tried and true recipes but she liked to throw in a ringer now and then. She was adventurous that way! Once she decided she'd spend an entire weekend, from morning to night, baking and getting it all done. Those cookies were spirited away to hiding places in Christmas tins until Christmas eve. Only then did we get to sample the fruits of her efforts. Then, because she kept hiding them, the cookies tended to last almost until Easter! Around March we were so sick of looking at them when she brought them out again! I think there has to be some happy medium between my fast disappearing cookies and hers that seemed to last half a year!
Decorating our tree was always another big job. Well, just getting a tree was the first hurdle. We were hardy "real tree" folks so it was up to my Dad and me to go out and pick out the perfect tree. The problem with that is I was always feeling sorry for those "Charlie Brown" looking trees on the lot and my Dad was always stuck in getting a long needled tree like he had when he was a kid. Don't know if you remember those long needle trees but after about a week, when it started getting a bit dry, those needles became weapons! So we'd argue back and forth and finally settled on something and tie it to the roof of our Rambler and go home. Inevitably, no matter which of us won the tree argument it didn't matter in the least because my Mother would always find some fault with whatever we brought home. After much turning and repositioning and, sometimes, tethering the thing to the curtain rod so it didn't fall over, we'd finally be ready to put on the lights. For the longest time we had strings and strings of those big lights that got hot when they were on. My parents never threw anything away and, I swear, they must have gotten those lights back in the 1940's and just kept them. My Dad would meticulously detangle the lights from the big wad they'd become while in storage and then then he'd twine them in and around those pointy branches. I got to hold the wad while he twined. Once that was done my Mom would bring out the two big suitcase/chests of ornaments. Our ornaments were magical to me. Each one, whether home made, store bought, or gifted was a precious treasure to behold. My Dad would sit and read the paper while I put on the ornament. Mom would set up all the chotckes - the candles, the snow globes and, finally, the Nativity Scene. All the while she would be reminding me to make sure I filled in "that bare spot". Once the ornaments were on it was tinsel time. We used to put strands of shining tinsel on our trees until they were so draped they transformed into a thing of wonder. The hot lights sparkled against the foil and, to a kid, it was awesome. The smell of pine wafted through the room, the candles glowed and Mom would make some hot cocoa for me and Dad. Usually there was some great Christmas special to watch. Lying on the floor, under the light of the glowing tree, watching Bing Crosby or Andy Williams - now that made December special! Or if there wasn't anything to watch I'd lie on the floor pouring over the Sears or JC Penney Big Book catalogue, making out my Christmas list!
I know I was lucky to have been born the youngest in my family. I got special moments like this - just me and my parents - long after my siblings moved out to start their own families. In later years, our tree was artificial, the tinsel was replaced by garland and red bows, and the lights were smaller and safer. But those memories of me, my Mom and my Dad laughing, arguing, working and being together are so strong that they still flood back when I open my own ornament suitcase and see some of the same ornaments that used to grace those magical trees. Which is what I'm about to do right now.
