What Does Your Christmas Tree Say About You?

decorating our first tree 1969
[Decorating our first tree in 1969]

I had never given any thought to what my Christmas tree says about me until I read a post by Maria Kellam, a colourist with a similar sounding blog to mine Colour Me Happy. As Maria shared her saga about her less-than-perfect tree, I began to reflect on my own tree story.

My mother and father always put up our tree on Christmas Eve while my two sisters and I were asleep. You see the first room of our house was my mother’s beauty shop until the last customer was done on Christmas Eve. When we awoke on Christmas morning the tree would be up, decorated and have presents all around it. My parens must have been up all night creating this transformation and assembling toys. Even though we were asleep just on the other side of a makeshift wall my father had built to turn one big room into two, we slept very soundly in our eagerness to make Christmas arrive as quickly as possible.

As I grew up I admired the Christmas trees in movies and Macy’s window and longed to have my own Christmas tree that would be up for many weeks for me to enjoy leading up to Christmas Day. It would be a real tree, like the one I had as a child, but it would be taller and lavishly decorated like the ones in the department stores.

In the early days of my marriage our tree was indeed a real tree. I insisted on it. It was about 6-7 ft. tall, but the decorating was not very inspired. I draped the typical tinsel and hung the ornaments, but was never thrilled with the results. As I began to have children, getting the toys, books and cookies baked became more important than the tree. We always had the real tree, but while it was decorated to the kids’ satisfaction, I always longed for more. My husband was content because he preferred simplicity and often viewed me as being too flamboyant. (Can you be “too” flamboyant? Isn’t flamboyant enough said?)

Over the years I began to grow disenchanted with the real tree because after a few weeks of burning lights in it and the drying effects of the fireplace, I began to worry disproportionately about the potential for fire. Besides, a three-week-old real Christmas tree loses its vibrant green color, gets brittly and begins to droop.

As the children grew older and even less interested in decorating the tree than they were before, decorating the tree became my holiday focus. Although I wanted the fragrance of a real tree, I succumbed to investing in an artificial tree, a 9 ft. tall one, eventually the prelit one. To maintain the illusion of the real tree I put potted rosemary around the tree.

After giving thought to my over forty years of Christmas tree decorating, I’ve discovered a few things my Christmas tree says about me.

1. I can be just as shallow as the next person, choosing appearance over authenticity.

Even though I love the fragrance of a real tree, I eventually gave up this pleasure in exchange for a perfectly shaped tree that I could control. I could decorate heavily without branches breaking and could enjoy for the whole month of December without worry about a fire.

2009tree

2. I’m influenced by beauty wherever I find it thus creating an eclectic theme.

To get ideas on decorating my tree I observed Christmas trees in stores and offices wherever I go, as well as combed the Internet. One year while spending Thanksgiving in Hawaii I spotted a Christmas tree configuration that was about 12 feet of poinsettia. Every year since then I’ve included poinsettia as part of my decorations.

Another year I didn’t want to display my Christmas cards on the wall as I once had, so I stuck them in the tree. Beautiful!

Even though our tree is prelit with white lights I added a few more strings of multicolored blinking lights. I like fullness (are you starting to think I’m flamboyant too?)

My ornament collection is quite extensive and yet I like to add something new from the after-Christmas sales or unique items I find on vacation. My newest ornaments are a Cloissone Christmas boot ornament from China, some elongated stylized angels from Pier Imports after Christmas sale last year, two USC Santa hat ornaments from my son and a Peet’s coffee mug ornament from my walking buddy. (I told you I was eclectic.)

3. Tradition and nostalgia are very important to me. but I am practical too.

Although I admire the themed trees I see in craft stores and other places every season, I prefer to put up the multitude of ornaments my children and grandchildren made over the years as well as the many ornaments my coworkers gave me as gifts during twenty years at my last teaching position.

Since this wide assortment of keepsake ornaments are many colors, I stick mainly to red and gold ribbon and other enhancements. One year I tried weaving a candy-cane-striped ribbon throughout the tree, but it seemed to disrupt the look, so I removed it and used a wide gold netting instead. Exquisite!

I could never see the sense of using those Christmas tree skirts they sell in the stores. They were too small and since the gifts were going to cover them, why invest in them in something where you wouldn’t see the design. Instead, I put a large red tablecloth around the base of the tree. It did the trick and are very affordable from discount stores.

Sitting on the floor in front center of the tree is our very first nativity set. It’s 40 years old and missing the nativitywise men. I remember that one by one the wise men lost their heads, then got cracked on the sides, and eventually disappeared altogether. It’s absolutely amazing that the Mary, Joseph and Jesus survived the rough handling of my children, nieces, nephews and grandchildren over the years. That proves that they are indeed Holy. Even the shepherd boy, a lamb a donkey and oxen are intact.

No matter what my Christmas tree says about me, the important thing is that I’m now thrilled with it each year. It always recalls many happy memories of the past, embraces the joy of the present and brings hope for the future as well.

What does your Christmas tree reveal about you?

Happy Holiday of Your Choice

2006 Holidays 001

[Few days bring up so many memories, regrets, wishes and strong feelings as Christmas. As I reflected on my own feelings about Christmas, I ran across this blog post by Janet Conner and thought I’d share it in its entirety with you. In addition to the feelings she shares, I love the many celebrations that surround December 25th and that she decided to embrace.]

I’ve been a bit of a Scrooge this year. I announced to my family and friends that I was bowing out of the whole present obligation thing. One brother said, “Tough, I’m sending you a present anyway.” The other said, “Thank God, I’m not doing presents either.” If it weren’t for credit card miles, my son wouldn’t even be getting a present. I’ve planned no humongous dinners, no holiday get-togethers, no eggnog, no Christmas cookies, no red and green candles. But I did do one thing: I got a tree.

It killed me to drop $70, but I had to have it. I can’t explain it, but I love a real Christmas tree. I love the little white lights — the more, the merrier. I love the glass icicles I carefully position in front of the lights. They remind me of the beauty of the real thing back in Wisconsin. Most of all, I love reliving the history — my history — as I take out each ornament: the hand-painted porcelain German bell my acting friend Alice gave me in 1976 when I left Los Angeles and my acting life behind, the delicate Dansk animals I bought in 1984 for our first Christmas in Florida, the ridiculous elf with “baby’s first Christmas” painted on his belly, the 1992 Waterford crystal stocking commemorating the year my father died, the ornate red ball with my son’s name in gold glitter marking the year I was confident that life could only get better and better, the mercury glass moon I bought the first Christmas on my own, and my favorites — the ones my son made in nursery school. I love them all, but the heartbreaker is the piece of green burlap with his tiny hand stamped in red paint. I cry every time I put it on the tree. When I’m finished, I cap everything off with the weathered, red and white striped bows that I’ve tied on the tree for over 20 years. Each year I tell myself, “You know, you really should get new ribbons,” and each year I stand back, look at the finished product, smile, and think it’s perfect just the way it is.

But this year I couldn’t bring myself to decorate the tree. For ten days, the 7-foot fir stood forlorn and naked in its stand, challenging me to get off my duff. Finally, on Sunday, I put down The New York Times and said, “OK. This is it, Janet. Just get it done.” I didn’t put on any carols or pour myself a libation. I just circled the tree in my bathrobe, cursing the knots in the lights and fuming about the whole stupid Christmas thing.

This is so fake, I thought. Dec. 25, as everyone knows by now, is not anywhere near the date Jesus was born. Spring, most scholars think. And the tree itself, for heaven’s sake, has nothing to do with the religion of Christianity. It’s an ancient pagan symbol for the mysterious continuation of life while the earth looks dead and cold. I felt dishonest. By decorating it and calling it a “Christmas” tree, wasn’t I just another cog in the commercial event labeled Christmas, a date that has nothing to do with Jesus’ or any other spiritual teacher’s life or message? Christmas at this point seems to be more about spending money and salvaging the stock exchanges from global doom. (Sorry, boys, but aside from the tree and a few bottles of wine, you’ll have to save the markets without me.)

If you’d peeked in the window last Sunday, you’d have seen a middle-aged woman who was singularly not in the Christmas spirit. When I finished, I didn’t step back and admire my work. I just dragged the empty boxes back into the garage and figured that’s one more thing I can check off my to-do list. But when I came back in the living room and saw my precious memory-filled tree sparkling brighter than the Florida sun coming through the windows, I smiled. I plopped back down in my reading chair, but instead of picking up the book review section, I sat and stared at my tree. “You are beautiful,” I said. “I love you.”

I was happy, but I refused to label this good feeling “Christmas.” What’s the matter with me, I wondered. Why can everyone else say “Merry Christmas” with a genuine smile on their face, but I choke on the words? Because, I thought, Christmas has been hijacked.

It’s been hijacked by the world of commerce. That’s painfully obvious. But it’s also been hijacked by the fundamental Christians who think they have the right to shove Jesus down the throats of the non-Christians in America, despite our essential foundation as the one country in the world where religion does not dictate or supposedly even influence government. Our predecessors fought a revolution for that principle. Where did that promise to one another go? The original Americans, the Native Americans, obviously didn’t know or care about Jesus or Christmas. And the early Pilgrim settlers looked down their dour noses at any foolish frippery like Christmas. When Charles Dickens wrote “A Christmas Carol,” Christmas Eve was just another workday. This whole Currier and Ives image of the happy family at Christmas is a Victorian creation, introduced not so very long ago.

I decided to dig into this whole Christmas thing. Just what is Dec. 25, I wanted to know. Well, in Roman times it was the culmination of a week of revelry honoring Saturn, the god of agriculture and sowing. Romans would have a wild time during Saturnalia, allowing slaves to debase their masters, eating and drinking to excess, and hitting the temples to honor Saturn. Scroll ahead a few years, and the Zoroastrians are honoring Mithra on this date. Mithra was the enemy of darkness. He protected souls on earth and, when they died, accompanied them to paradise. Mithra, like Saturn, was a god of prosperity. Dec. 25 was also “The Nativity of the Sun,” a celebration of Sol Invicta, the invincible god of the sun. Before any of these, of course, late December was the ancient celebration of Solstice, honoring the miraculous continuation of life despite the apparent death of the earth.

Given all the delightful pagan fun happenings on and around Dec. 25, it should come as no surprise that the early church fathers hijacked that date and turned it into Jesus’ birthday. Why not? They had a church to build, and they were building it on the idea of Jesus as the son of God, the “light of the world.” How better to reinforce that idea than to commandeer all the celebrations of the light of the sun? Jesus wasn’t too keen on people honoring or worshiping him. He kept saying he was the “son of man,” not a god. But he did enjoy a good time. It seems that in every other story in the Bible Jesus is with friends, and often eating. And we know he went to a wedding and, when necessary, fed a few thousand people.

So, I’ve decided Jesus would approve of my idea: I am going to celebrate all the Dec. 25 holidays. At my house it’s Solstice and Sol Invicta and The Nativity of the Sun and Christmas. Plus, let’s not forget Hanukkah, the festival of lights, which just ended; Kwanzaa, a smart new holiday; and Eid ul-Adha, which begins on Dec. 20.

Why not? The message of all these celebrations is the same: We humans are connected to and protected by an all-powerful, all-loving, all-giving God — a God of light and life. Whether you see that light as the Sun or the Son, or any other name, doesn’t really matter. Late December has a rich history of humanity’s desire to touch the unfathomable. I ask you to join me in this spirit and honor the light — all the light.

So at this house, I’ll be celebrating a very happy Solstice, Saturnalia, Sol Invicta, Nativity of the Sun, and the birth of Jesus, all rolled up into the thing we call Christmas.

How are You Spending Your Marbles?

marbles

[My friends Glenn and Kris don’t know the origin of this story called 1000 Marbles, but they just shared it on a message board. I thought you would enjoy it too.]

The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it’s the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it’s the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable. A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the basement shack with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning, turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time.

Let me tell you about it.

I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know the kind, he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whoever he was talking with something about “a thousand marbles”.

I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say. “Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you’re busy with your job. I’m sure they pay you well but it’s a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. Too bad you missed your daughter’s dance recital.”

He continued, “let me tell you something Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own priorities.”

And that’s when he began to explain his theory of a “thousand marbles.”

“You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years.”

“Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900 which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now stick with me Tom, I’m getting to the important part.”

“It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail”, he went on, “and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy.”

“So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round-up 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside of a large, clear plastic container right here in the shack next to my gear.”

“Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away.”

“I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight.”

“Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure if I make it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time.”

“It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on the band. 73 Old Man, this is K9NZQ, clear and going QRT, good morning!”

You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about.

I had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next club newsletter.

Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss. “C’mon honey, I’m taking you and the kids to breakfast.”

“What brought this on?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, nothing special, it’s just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together with the kids. Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we’re out? I need to buy some marbles.”

Did You Know Metaphor Influences Your Decisions?

James Geary has a rare profession indeed. He’s one of only a few professional aphorists and enjoys revealing how metaphors influence our thinking and decision-making.

Watch the following fascinating video, then if so inclined check out his books below the screen as well.

Christmas Greeting is More than Child's Play

momMy mother often greeted her same-age holiday guests by quickly saying “Christmas gift” before they could say it. Then they would giggle. My childhood mind couldn’t find humor or sense in this practice, but recently I learned its origin.

Although slavery in America was a harsh existence endured by many Black Americans, there was often a brief reprieve from their exhausting work during the period between Christmas and New Year’s when slavemasters allowed slaves to briefly socialize with their fellow slaves on the plantation. Adult slaves would put little presents, such as a piece of fruit or candy, in their pockets. If someone (usually a child) came up to them and said “Christmas gif'” first, they’d have to give them a present. It was similar to the “trick or treat” tradition we celebrate at Halloween.

When I realize that this one week period of time was the only time out of the whole year that my slave ancestors had a break from forced labor so they could act and feel like real families, I’m painfully aware of why the holidays were so immensely joyful for them. For those who were fortunate enough to actually live on the same plantation with their blood relatives, laughing and singing the hopeful strains of the Gospels and carols gave added dimension.

The cultural, sociological and religious history of holiday customs is long and intertwining with many twists and turns.

As I lavishly adorn my Christmas tree in my warm and comfortable home, I’m painfully aware of the hardships that my ancestors endured over a century ago and am ashamed to feel anything but gratitude and joy for my own life. Even though the media fills the waves with stories of lack, horror and dismal economic forecasts, I refuse to be sucked in. I celebrate  my freedom.

I’ve been blessed to have access to education, resources,  and the opportunity to raise my children without fear that they could be taken away from me on the whim of someone who only saw us as property.  I know that I’m not alone.  Many of you can look back only a few decades to see how your situation in your family or ethnic group was very different.

So, even if you don’t have adequate finances, the kind of home you prefer or even a mate this holiday, be thankful if you have freedom.  That means that all these things are within your reach.  Don’t let anything steal the joy to which you are entitled or keep you from exercising your freedom to claim it.