BRIGHT AND SHINING

BRIGHT AND SHINING

All Christmas tree lots looked pretty much the same in the city.
They popped up in vacant lots and parking lots all over town.
Bright colored lights and spot lights swung on wires to beckon you in.
A small forest of trees in tidy rows, sprinkled sawdust lay on the ground.
The aromas of firs, cedar and pine were strong and fresh.
The smell of Christmas!

It never snowed at Christmas where I grew up.
Not even once.
But it did drop below freezing...
sometimes icing the trees with frost.
Other times fog swirled around,
making the forest even more magical to my kid eyes.

The salesmen stomped their feet and warmed their hands
over an oil drum fire... 

lurching toward any car that entered the lot...
eager to make a sale.
The old man waved them off saying
"We're just looking for now."
All the little bunnies would look at each other, worried.
What did he mean by that?

The bunnies scattered...
the oldest two could wander as they wished.
The next two had to stay together.
Being the youngest,
my mother's hand firmly grasped my coat hood like a leash.

I tried in vain to steer them to the "manger" that held the flocked trees.
I honestly believed that a bright pink fuzzy tree was just the ticket.
"Too messy."
mother would say,
tugging me toward the long rows of unflocked trees.
Well, it never hurt to try.

The idea was for each of us to pick our tree...
and try to remember what row it was on.
Once everyone had chosen, we would meet
and show off our choices to each other.
Then the parents would be the judges who picked 

"the tree".

My parents would give me clues.
"Look how full this one is."
"Doesn't this one smell fresh!"

I had my own criteria.
Different things caught my eye.
One had a bird's nest.
"Birds nests have germs."
Another had a neat crooked trunk.
"We want a nice straight tree."
A skinny one might leave more room for presents.
The parents laughed at that idea.

When we reached the end of the tree rows...
the other bunnies had returned, begging to show off their choices.
Father made a big deal out of going by age...
we started at the oldest and made our way down.
Each tree Father would pull out into the aisle.
Mother would walk around it,
searching for holes or flat spots.

It went that way for four trees...
then it was my turn!
I would sadly turn my gaze at the bright pink fuzzy tree,
saying good-bye in my head.
Then try to recall which of the trees seemed to have made mother happiest.
I might have been the youngest, but this was a serious competition.
I was out to win the honor of picking "the tree".

I didn't always win,
but being with the parents as they talked about them
helped me to pick a number of winners over the years.
Of course it got easier as I got older and the other bunnies grew up and away.
But much of the luster of the game was gone by then...
along with belief in that old guy in the red suit.

My father would string us along...
sometimes pacing back and forth and returning
for second looks...
Mother would whisper in his ear...
letting the tension build.
Then he would announce their choice.

One of the older bunnies would go for a salesman
while the rest of us guarded our tree.
Father would dicker the price, if he could.
Accept it if he could not.
The tree had been chosen and no other tree would do.

The salesman would try to sell him a nice
wooden cross stand to hold it up.
Father steadfastly refused.
Money exchanged hands...
and all the bunnies followed the tree to the car.
Father would wince as the salesman tossed it on top of the Buick,
worried about his paint job more than the tree.

We sang carols all the way home
with slightly less enthusiasm.
The excitement of the day was wearing us down.
My own eyes would begin to droop.
By the time the station wagon rolled up the drive,
I was ready for bed.

Buying the tree was a very big deal.
But it never was decorated the day of purchase...
in spite of the decorations neatly laid out.
Father would have to drag it inside,
stand it up and wait for my mother to decide
where the top and the bottom needed to be trimmed.

Once that was done,
it needed to be wrestled into it's stand
and the stand filled with water.
Father had worked a full day.
It was time for a beer.
The bunnies were sent off to bed.

I lay there and listened to the parents below.
They laughed about different trees and things said by silly little bunnies.
If I could keep my eyes open long enough...
I would hear the happy sounds of my father swearing

"Dad burn it!"
as he tied the big old heavy strings of lights onto the tree...
mother giving him directions.

Tomorrow we would dress it in our memories.
The magic of Christmas had begun.

ON THE FIRST DAY...

YAY!

Let the season begin!

While I have been taking my break...

I decided to work on some stories about Christmas

the way it was when I was a kid.

Because Christmas is special to children...

and infects all their thoughts and ideas...

in a way that does not affect adults.

So here is my warning...

these are stories,

and they are wordy!

If you are looking for short posts,

I do understand and you are welcome to look elsewhere.

But these are memories near and dear to me,

about a time that was magical.

I credit each and every one with to my parents,

who worked very hard to make 

Christmas very special to all of their children.

They were the best parents that I could possibly have had.

I believe you will see why.

Here we go... I hope you enjoy the ride.

=:]

Oh Christmas Tree!

The first weekend in December was dedicated to our traditional activities...

It began with boxes and boxes of decorations for the tree and house,
pulled out of their home in the closet that ran under the stairs.
Mom would set them out on the dining room table,
the big coffee table and here and there on the window seats.

Mother hated messes... 

and this was a messy business.
But for once, it was a mess that she honestly loved.
Each item was taken from its nest in the tissue, 

newspaper and paper towels,
and gently inspected for damage.
There was always damage... 

bulbs that were broken or burnt out,
fragile ornaments that had shattered or cracked.
She morned each and every lost reminder of her favorite memories.

Between the balls, bulbs, light strings, garlands and angel hair...
lay her favorites; 

all the dopy, sappy ornaments made at school
from bits of paper, glitter, photos, macaroni and pipe cleaners
and the baker's dough ornaments made at home by our little hands.
There was a set of glass birds with spring legs attached to alligator clips
with feather tails from her own childhood trees.
One bird had lost a leg and flopped to one side, 

but still made his home in our tree.
Dad called it

"the drunk bird".

She would work through the morning...
enjoying the memories they conjured up,
sharing them with us.
We laughed and smiled 

and shared our own stories as
each ornament came out of the boxes.
"I made that!"
The house smelled like oranges poked by cloves,
cinnamon, gingerbread, 

always bayberry,

and her stew perking in the kitchen.

This was Christmas tree ornament day!
We were kept busy hanging up and 

laying out the house decorations.
Setting up small winter scenes...
a pair of ice skaters on a mirror...
snow men conversed in their snowy angle hair fog
("Don't touch your eyes!")
on the sill of the window at the place where the stairs landed and 

split toward the living room 

or the breakfast room on the other side.

There were candles here and there...
angles, santas, snowmen, gingerbread boy and girl...
and always fresh bayberry candles in 

the giant brass candle sticks on the mantle.

Red satin bows were tied to their necks
to match the big bow on the front door

with it's cascade of  sleigh bells.
The following few days fir boughs and 

sprigs would find their way
around picture frames, mirrors, and across the mantle...
and cedar garlands 

would be hung in swoops under the crown molding.
Mistletoe was hung in the center of 

the french doors to the dining room.

We peeked out the windows...
waiting for Father.
Hurry, hurry, hurry home!
The bigger girls would help mom push
the love seat around the room,
until mother was satisfied with its temporary home.
This made room for the tree between the
built-in bookcases with their leaded glass doors
and the high, 

short and wide window with her antique bottle collection,
that would glitter with the reflected tree lights.

The excitement of the day was contagious...
  anticipation grew by the minute
and every car that entered our street made us hold
our breath... until it passed us by.
We'd groan and wait for the next engine sound.

Once the ornaments were all unpacked...
the boxes were filled with the wrappings and 

tucked back under the stairs.
The rug under the place where 

the tree would go had to be vacuumed...
and we showed a rare enthusiasm for the task.

Then the sound of the Buick in the driveway
inspired us to gape out the window.
"Don't smudge the windows!"
Father walked smiling into the house,
as we rushed him...

and he announced the same line year after year...
"Hey!  It looks like Christmas in here!" 

as he tired to cross the room to kiss mother,
with a five pack of little bunnies hanging on tight... 

all chattering wildly.

But there was diner to eat yet...
before the best part of the day.
None of us had to be told to hurry or finish what was on our plates...
and no one asked for seconds...

unless Father did,
then you might as well have another 

bit of stew or chunk of cornbread.

The oldest bunnies would snatch up dishes
and wisk them away to rinse and put in the dishwasher.
One of us would wipe the table and counters down.
Another would take out the trash...
all without being asked, 

which made the parents smile.

Father would stretch and threaten to read his newspaper...
all the bunnies protested and groaned.
But instead of stopping at his chair...
he would take his jacket from the hall seat,

that looked like an oak throne...
causing the bunnies to hop into their coats as well...
and run to get the best seat available in the car.

The sleigh bells jangled on the door and swayed.
The station wagon doors slammed.
The engine roared to life and the Buick backed out.
Someone would begin to sing and we all joined in.
"Jingle bells!  Jingle bells!"
Extra loud on the "Hey!"
Look out tree lot... here we come!

The story continues tomorrow...

see you then!