Christmas Decorating
Kevin Gray
It was a nice Thanksgiving as always. This year, we drove to Atchison on Wednesday to bring Diane’s parents back to Paola for the night and to eat turkey and the fixings at our place the next day. The drive up and back also gave me a chance to say hi to my parents, together at the Leavenworth National Cemetery, something I do whether the weather is inclimate or not.
Diane’s folks found themselves pitching in to cut celery and onion for the stuffing, as well as helping around the kitchen and with setting up for the meal the next day. I couldn’t help but think about the first turkey I ever cleaned, stuffed and stowed away in an oven. Diane and I were living in Oswego, where she had begun her first teaching job as a second grade teacher. I was still taking classes at Pitt State trying to finish my teaching degree.
We couldn’t make it home (not Atchison or Virginia), so instead we invited other first year teacher friends and a young man, a fellow student at Pitt, who was from Thailand. It, too, would be his first American Thanksgiving. I was all of 23 and began working that bird over trying to remember all the steps my father had followed to prepare the birds throughout my childhood. Nobody got sick, which I felt was a good sign.
Best of all at our house this Thanksgiving? No plans for Black Friday, no heading out on midnight outings to hit the best sales, no stampedes, no getting caught up in the hoop-la and craziness called Christmas shopping.
With Thanksgiving behind us, our Christmas decorations went up Saturday. This is no small feat. There may only be the two of us here, but we like to decorate for Christmas. We still do a big tree, too. Knowing our living room contains the space, we fill it. Once I have the tree pieced together (yes, we went artificial several years ago) and the lights on and working, my next step is to organize the tree ornaments.
At this stage, the decorating moves into heartfelt and personal, one where I sense my parents’ presence. The Christmas ornament boxes pulled from more sturdy cardboard boxes contain very old and delicate glass balls, some round, some bell shaped, others with concave sides, some with teardrop ends and others are not glass but little pine cone elves.
I have been placing those ornaments on trees since I can remember. Black and white photographs my father took after he and mom were married in 1944, show many of these same balls on their trees. Keep in mind, they were married for eight years before I came along. And there are pictures of me as a boy near my trees with the same ornaments clearly visible.
A few vintage Shiny Brite balls or bells go up, but most of what I handle with kid gloves are the larger hand painted ones made in Poland. One ball pictures a person carrying a small fir tree, while a small pine stands nearby, representative of selecting a Christmas tree. Pink or soft yellow roses are painted on other balls, and each scene is separated by a yellow, green or red stripe painted from cap to base of the teardrop.
The old glass balls may not have their earlier sparkle, but this makes no difference to me. Our newer and shinier glass ornaments made in Poland and Germany, provide the necessary color and gleam.
But, when my fingers touch an artisan’s painting and carefully handle the vintage glass, it’s, like I said, as if my parents are sitting right there in our living room. Or I’m placing the same balls on assorted white pines in my youth, and I’m transported back through the years. Now, this is what helps to make Christmas special to me.
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Posted by admin
on Dec 1 2010. Filed under Kevin Gray, Opinion.
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