INDULGENCES house and home by joel martens
THE EVERLASTING MEMORIES IN CHRISTMAS
ORNAMENTS: ONE MAN’S HOLIDAY THOUGHTS
I am amazed every year at the arrival of the holiday season. It’s not an unpleasant surprise, quite the contrary, but it seems impos- sible that we are about to celebrate another Christmas and then right on top of that, the New Year. They are correct when they say that time does speed up as we move up chronologically!
I love the Christmas season, the decorations, the parties and food, the chill in the
air (my relatives in Northern Wisconsin are laughing about that one) and of course the presents! Even as a small child I grabbed a hold of this holiday and ran with it. I went out and cut my first Christmas tree for my bedroom when I was about six, and my indulgent grandfather helped me build a little stand and let me buy two boxes of ornaments at the corner store (it was actually called Ehler’s Mercantile—right out of Little House on the Prairie huh?!) With my allowance and a little (well maybe a large) contribution (Okay, back then I think the total for 24 ornaments was a whopping $4.00!) I was the proud owner of my very first holiday tradition. My mother was kind enough to hand over a string of lights with all of the leftover
green and blue bulbs (our family tree had only red and green so there was an abun- dance). I strung the lights and hung the ornaments and was so proud of that little tree. I loved it like only a child of that age can—it was magic as far as I was concerned. I had no idea of it at the time, but that was the beginning of a happy custom that chronicles the stages in my life and continues to this day. Every year I have added to that collection, and at this stage of the game, it has
grown to a sizable collection (I’m being modest). Some are ridiculously expensive (hello Christopher Radko) and some are handmade from the humblest of materials (milkweed pods and even one hand carved from a white tail deer antler). I have pieces filled with memories of my grandparents, some even from my great grandparents, ornaments that represent most of the relationships I have had over the years. Friends, family, places that I have lived, worked, and people that I have loved dearly. I have a disturbingly clear memory for each, where they came from, who gave it to me, or where
I was when I purchased them. And yes, believe it or not, I still have many from that first purchase, a little worn, not much glitter left, but they are a treasure to me, I see my grandpa’s face in every one of them. Early in December, I go out and choose a live tree (sorry, I know that it’s not the most
environmentally sound choice, but I do recycle) and drag it home to discover that it is almost always too large (hence the investment in the saw that gets used once a year) and spend about three hours stringing lights. I invite a crew of friends, feed them my homemade cream of potato soup (Grandma Greener’s recipe), mulled cider, and a prodigious amount of wine and we spend the evening trimming my tree. I can’t tell you what it means to me to share this event with the people in my life. Each year it is a little different and each year the experience is as gratifying as the next. My dear friends are tolerant of my stories and the emotional attachments that I have to the ornaments. They patiently listen to me as I share the stories (I have learned to cull that process since there are six LARGE boxes in my collection) and we laugh and enjoy what for me is the highlight of the season. For many of us that are separated from traditional family gatherings, whatever the
limitations may be, it is important to build customs of our own. Invite a friend, bring together people, include someone that would ordinarily be alone, share an evening and your stories. You can create your own tradition with the simplest of means, on a shoe string or not—as time passes you will have fashioned memories that are priceless and enduring.
Have a happy holiday season, and I will see you in the New Year!
64
RAGE monthly | DECEMBER 2010
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56 |
Page 57 |
Page 58 |
Page 59 |
Page 60 |
Page 61 |
Page 62 |
Page 63 |
Page 64 |
Page 65 |
Page 66 |
Page 67 |
Page 68 |
Page 69 |
Page 70 |
Page 71 |
Page 72 |
Page 73 |
Page 74 |
Page 75 |
Page 76 |
Page 77 |
Page 78 |
Page 79 |
Page 80 |
Page 81 |
Page 82 |
Page 83 |
Page 84 |
Page 85 |
Page 86 |
Page 87 |
Page 88 |
Page 89 |
Page 90 |
Page 91 |
Page 92