AbbieNeezer
12-09-2006, 07:44 AM
I grew up in South Central Texas. I was a child in the 60's and early 70's. My hometown was a small one, not far from San Antonio. By virtue of locale, it would get cold, but rarely ever snow. That didn't matter, Christmas was always Christmas--even in 72 degree weather. Anyway, may parents hated putting up a Christmas tree too early. They claimed we'd get tired of it and it would lose it's novelty. So, we always put ours up on Dec. 15th. No matter what the day of the week that fell on, that darn tree went up on the 15th! My father would by one (a nice 6 foot d Douglas Fir) the 13th...it would sit outside for a while, allowing the branches to "branch out" fully. Then on the 15th--it was time to bring her in and fancy her up and it WAS a very big deal...a real family affair.
Daddy would bring in the tree and place it in the stand as my mother and my sisters and I pulled out boxes of ornaments from storage. There would always be a few broken ones (I never knew how some didn't survive the year off??) and there would always be a few fur needles from last year's tree at the bottom of the box. I always remember that smell.
It would make me take inventory of my life and the changes I'd gone through since I last saw these ornaments. That was always a surreal moment...even as a child.
Anyway, my mom would make a pan of gingerbread and a kettle of hot chocolate while a Christmas album provided a holiday musical backdrop as the LP spun around on the turn table of the RCA Victor console. conbrprovided a musical backdrop. Daddy would always string the lights out first, then plug them in while on the floor to find out which bulbs still worked and which ones didn't. We'd replace the bulbs (they were the big ones, remember??) and then they lights would go one first, starting at the top of the tree. Then my father would place three stuffed angels in the interior branches--each one represented my sisters and me. After the angels came the ornaments and then silver icicles and then last but not least, the angel hair. Anyone remember that spun fiberglass stuff? It gave the tree a very surreal, ethereal look. We never had a star at the top--just one of those onion dome looking tree toppers. Then after that, we'd stand around admiring our work. To my father, that year's tree was ALWAYS the prettiest one we'd had up until that point. After that, we'd pile in the car and go driving around, looking at other people's decorations.
This was a ritual practiced every year until the dissolution of my family with my parent's nasty divorce in 1976. By that time I was a Jr in High School and I'd udnergone that horrible adolescnent paradigm shift. I never had kids but I always that I'd try to carry on the tradition. My two older sisters had children and they tried desperately to carry on, but it never stuck. Their kids just never cared--even as youngsters. My sisters would end up decorating the trees themselves. I've always thought that was sad.
Life got tougher and harder as I grew up. Things have stabilized but my Christmas memories of growing up as a child are things I harken back to and even in the toughest of times, can still make me smile.
So, here's to tradition. There's something to be said for their repetition. It took me well into my adulthood before realizing that they can be sad quite comforting to a child.
Mery Christmas from Texas, ya'll!!!!!!!!!!!!
Daddy would bring in the tree and place it in the stand as my mother and my sisters and I pulled out boxes of ornaments from storage. There would always be a few broken ones (I never knew how some didn't survive the year off??) and there would always be a few fur needles from last year's tree at the bottom of the box. I always remember that smell.
It would make me take inventory of my life and the changes I'd gone through since I last saw these ornaments. That was always a surreal moment...even as a child.
Anyway, my mom would make a pan of gingerbread and a kettle of hot chocolate while a Christmas album provided a holiday musical backdrop as the LP spun around on the turn table of the RCA Victor console. conbrprovided a musical backdrop. Daddy would always string the lights out first, then plug them in while on the floor to find out which bulbs still worked and which ones didn't. We'd replace the bulbs (they were the big ones, remember??) and then they lights would go one first, starting at the top of the tree. Then my father would place three stuffed angels in the interior branches--each one represented my sisters and me. After the angels came the ornaments and then silver icicles and then last but not least, the angel hair. Anyone remember that spun fiberglass stuff? It gave the tree a very surreal, ethereal look. We never had a star at the top--just one of those onion dome looking tree toppers. Then after that, we'd stand around admiring our work. To my father, that year's tree was ALWAYS the prettiest one we'd had up until that point. After that, we'd pile in the car and go driving around, looking at other people's decorations.
This was a ritual practiced every year until the dissolution of my family with my parent's nasty divorce in 1976. By that time I was a Jr in High School and I'd udnergone that horrible adolescnent paradigm shift. I never had kids but I always that I'd try to carry on the tradition. My two older sisters had children and they tried desperately to carry on, but it never stuck. Their kids just never cared--even as youngsters. My sisters would end up decorating the trees themselves. I've always thought that was sad.
Life got tougher and harder as I grew up. Things have stabilized but my Christmas memories of growing up as a child are things I harken back to and even in the toughest of times, can still make me smile.
So, here's to tradition. There's something to be said for their repetition. It took me well into my adulthood before realizing that they can be sad quite comforting to a child.
Mery Christmas from Texas, ya'll!!!!!!!!!!!!