Christmases Past

Everything about this tiny artificial tree brings back memories of Christmases past for me.

I inherited it from my mom.

When my sister Dianne and I were little kids, our parents bought and decorated a live Christmas tree each year after we had gone to bed on Christmas Eve. In our family, it was "Santa" who decorated the tree and left it surrounded by presents.

This was in the first decade after World War II. I have no idea where my dad bought a presentable Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, and it wasn't until years later that I realized Christmas trees were heavily discounted on the night before Christmas. It makes sense to me now. Money was in short supply when my parents were young.

After Dianne and I were disabused of the notion of a jolly fat man who came down the chimney to deliver presents to all good little boys and girls -- our chimney led not to a fireplace but to a furnace, although that concept never bothered me when I was 6 years old -- the whole family took to picking out the perfect tree a week before Christmas. Decorating it became a family affair.

Later still, when Dianne and I had moved out on our own, my mom and dad acquired the little artificial tree you see above. But they kept some of the ornaments that used to adorn the big, live trees each year. And they kept many of the things you see beneath the tree in the image above. This year, the tree sits on my dining room table.

Dianne, my mother and my father are all gone now. But I carry on the tradition, and it always brings back happy memories.

Dianne needle-pointed the Happy Holidays ornament you see at the dead center. One of the red ornaments is an early-plastic decoration that probably dates back to 1946. My grandmother crocheted the star image that hangs on a lower branch. The tiny animals always hung high on the live trees from my childhood; they were my mother's favorites.

Beneath the tree is a collection of plastic cars and trucks from my childhood. The little blue bench was part of the setup for the Lionel train I got in 1951. (I imagine that's supposed to be the Baby Jesus sitting on the bench, but I have no recollection of where that little naked figure came from.) The white plastic house and the red plastic church have been under our trees since before I can remember.

I bring out this little tree each year, and after Christmas I wrap it carefully -- still decorated -- and put it away until the next December.

Christmas is a time for memories, for recalling the past and for making new memories for the children in our families. Tacky is trumped by nostalgia.

I decided long ago that this is a good thing.

Tradition is to be accorded great respect.