I met a young mother yesterday morning at the doctor's office. This is her first year to live in the Phoenix area and she's not prepared for Christmas. She seemed a bit frazzled as she repeated that Christmas is only a week and a half away. She's trying, but she just can't shop for Christmas unless she's wearing her heavy coat, snuggly scarf, warm gloves, and it's brrr cold outside. That hasn't happened yet. She's beginning to worry.
She's right. It is hard to get in the Christmas mood when the air is balmy, the grass is green, the flowers are blooming and palm trees line the streets. But it can be done. It's just not the same. But then again, it's not the same when the kids are grown. It's not the same when Grandma's not there for dinner. It's not the same when--dare I say--Santa doesn't slide down the chimney anymore. But it's still Christmas and we must soldier on.
This year, we'll be staying home for Christmas. We won't be joining the kids in Kansas or Missouri, or Minnesota, or Oklahoma, or New Jersey. It won't be the same. But, we've invited our neighbors to join us for the afternoon and it will be a good day. We'll sip a little bubbly, eat a (we hope) great dinner, laugh, talk, and realize how lucky we are to have ended up in the same cul-de-sac.
Company and Christmas mean decorating, and so a few days ago BC took our tree from storage and placed it on our patio, as I pulled ornament boxes from the garage and began the long journey down memory lane.
When Michael was about two or three, Grandma bought an ornament for each of the four kids complete with their name engraved on each. Apparently, we rubbed Mickie's little behind for good luck as it certainly outshines the rest of her "angelic" being. Kristi did indeed love to rock and wore out more than one little rocking chair. Michael's image is dead on as he loved his cowboy boots and quite often wore ONLY boots for days on end. Thank God we lived on an isolated farm. But...where is Denise?
Denise's little ornament has disappeared. Gone? Lost? Certainly not in the ornament box. Fortunately, we do have this little lovely that one of her elementary teachers made. What a creative teacher! This ornament definitely has staying power.
Now, this may not have BC's name engraved or painted on it, but it might as well have. Trust me, this shouts BC. This purple Kansas State Santa (note the PowerCat wreath) is BC to a T. Did you know Kansas State will play Oregon at this year's Fiesta Bowl? Did you know the Fiesta Bowl is only a hop, skip, and a K-State jump from our development? Well it is, they will, and we hope it goes well!!
A few years ago my sister and her husband retired to Louisville, Kentucky, his home town. They love it. My sister has found wonderful friends and her grandchildren are close by. My brother in law has left his attorney life behind and now leads fantastic tours of Churchill Downs and "Old Friends", a thoroughbred rescue farm. Their Christmas gifts are appropriately themed.
In the course of my tree-trimming afternoon, I found ornaments sold by the Dodge City Junior and Senior High School Orchestra and Band in the early 1980s. I found rough, flat wooden ornaments painted by pudgy five year old fingers. Each year, those ornaments stick together as if the paint isn't dry yet. I repeat scotch tape repairs of construction paper stars, clothespin reindeer and play dough trees. And, I tear up every year. Where are my babies? All grown up and gone. Snoopy here is a 1977 relic.
A few years ago when we were in California, BC and Collin built a bird-house at a Lowe's workshop. Collin's Mommy took a picture and sent it to us that Christmas. It's hung on our tree ever since.
A few years ago at a Kappa Kappa Gamma reunion at Kansas State, we each received this Kappa key. I've put it on the tree ever since, and each time I think of my Kappa sisters from the 1960s. They're a remarkable group of women. I know, because since 1967 we've shared an annual letter from each sister telling of our joys and sorrows. We're growing old together, just as we raised our children together. We watched our marriages flourish and sometimes fail. We celebrated our dream jobs, gave birth to our children and welcomed our grandchildren. It's been a great ride and all the better for our connection through the journey.
I'd like to think that this little bird has some symbolic value, but really, he doesn't at all. I just liked him. Early in BC's and my relationship, I bought this fellow, snuggled in his nest, because BC was a veterinarian and had a very soft spot in his heart for all creatures (OK, I'll say it) great and small, and I thought it appropriate. Now, however, I find it kind of spooky that every year when I open that giant plastic ornament tub, he comes out looking like a million bucks and our traditional white bird and red bird look like death warmed over. Some things we don't want to know.
A few years after she was married, Denise began doing counted cross-stitch...or maybe it was regular cross-stitch. In any event, she was a whiz at it and among many other things, cross-stitched an ornament for everyone in the family. Nearly all of them have survived.
This favorite dates from 1980. The ornament pictures a Piper Tomahawk, a two-seat plane used most often as a trainer. The little upper body you see in the window would be me. It dates from the years when I was a flight instructor. (Did I mention I've had a checkered career?) A student painted this for me and I loved it. Good, reliable November 9937 Tango. It was a fun plane and a reliable plane that alternately reassured me and scared me to death. It flew at incredibly low speeds, but wanted to spin in a stall. I walked away from it in 1986, but that's another story for another time.
I think it's time to move on. Our tree is decorated, and at this moment its lights are, if not exactly blazing, at least on, providing a bit of brightness on a drizzly evening. Our high today was in the 50s. That's long undies weather for me. I'm wearing my K-State/KKG sweatshirt and remembering all the years I've attached the same ornaments to different trees. Live trees, cut trees, fat artificial trees, tall artificial trees, and now a sweet skinny artifical tree. Christmas is Sacred. Christmas is Happy. Christmas is Comfort. Christmas is Bittersweet.
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