Once upon a Christmas

It’s been a “few” decades (eight or so) but I still have some vivid memories of Christmas when I was a kid.

I have four siblings, so you can imagine the chaos, especially when we were younger.

Decorating the tree was always fun. Our high ceilings accommodated a tall tree (though likely not as tall as I remember it). Daddy usually secured it with wire to the adjacent window frame(s). Then came the lights and all the various ornaments, accumulated over the years and including the newest paper link chains we usually made at school. There were also occasional popcorn chains (we learned that stale popcorn worked best), and once we even tried to make a cranberry chain. Unsuccessful, as I recall, and messy.

All the while I was the artist, the self-appointed supervisor/expert, circling the tree to make sure the lights and ornaments were evenly distributed, that all ornaments would gleam in the light of a strategically placed bulb, that some ornaments were hung to fill any gaps in the branches (even though we turned the tree’s “bad” side to the wall), and that the ornaments hung freely from their respective branches, etc.

The biggest bone of contention was always the tinsel (aka icicles)– the long shimmery strands of silver that danced in the light and invisible currents of air. My three younger siblings were content with tossing globs of tinsel as high as they could while I was insisting every single strand hang separately and freely from the tips of the branches in an accurate depiction of real icicles. All this, of course, on a real, live Christmas tree, carefully selected (not “curated”) at the tree lot for its perfect size, shape, and scent. I don’t recall artificial trees being a thing back then — at least not at our house.

There was one notably different Christmas. I’ve no idea what year it was, but in addition to a big tree in the living room, each of us kids had a little ~24″ tree in our bedroom (only four trees; one sister and I shared a room). Then, at some point, my younger brother became quite ill and was taken to the hospital. Word came back from the ER — “Get rid of the Christmas trees!” Turned out my brother was allergic to them. All the little trees got dumped outside immediately. But my dad wrestled the big, fully decorated tree onto the front porch and set it up in front of the living room window where we could still enjoy it from inside. Thereafter we got flocked or painted trees with their allergens safely sealed.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

My dad was a home movie fan, so Christmas morning, which usually began quite early — 6 am, maybe? Possibly even 5. No doubt it was a lot earlier than my parents would have liked. Ours was a big, old two-story house and we kids gathered impatiently at the top of the stairs. We weren’t allowed to go down until Daddy had set up his 16 mm camera and bar of floodlights at the foot of the stairs to film us as we came stampeding down.

The tree and all the gifts were around the corner, so we couldn’t see them until we got to the bottom of the stairs. And there in addition to all the accumulated gifts that we’d been shaking and sneaking peeks at (through that accidentally torn wrapping) for days were the big new gifts brought in the night before by Santa. Amazing and wonderful how he always knew just what we wanted. Mom was seated to one side, ready to take notes about who received what from whom so we could later write thank-you notes to all the appropriate friends and relatives (yes, actual handwritten, snail mail thank-you notes).

First, of course, we checked our stockings. Luckily there was a nice mantle to hold them all.

Then, in no time at all, we’d rip open everything (none of that pausing to appreciate and admire each one) and the gift wrap and ribbons were strewn all over the room. Mom was probably still begging for information: “Susan, who gave you that book?” Ellen, what did you get from Jimmy?”

I’ve no recollection of when or how it all got cleaned up. But no doubt it did. Eventually.

BTW: This all took place in Oklahoma City, where snow at Christmas was and is a very rare treat. Since 1913, there have been only 12 instances of snow on the ground on Christmas morning. In only six of those years was there an inch or more. In Denver this year there is no snow.

Have a great day, everyone!

Images AI generated. I tried four or five times to get it to cough up an image with five kids, but I guess it can’t count that high.