Weblog Entry - 12/19/2002: ""

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12/19/2002 Entry: ""

So. The tree is decorated, at last. This is always a rather sentimental occasion, however much I may have been grumping beforehand about gorram razzlefrazzle Christmas. Putting the lights on is just a PITA, but once I get them shoved into the depths of the branches and more or less evenly spaced, then I begin pulling out the ornaments, one after another.

The first ones up, always, are the two survivors of the set of ornaments my parents bought around the time I was born, which means they're perhaps 50 years old. They're nothing special in and of themselves, painted glass, very very fragile, but they carry a great weight of memory for me. One of them is slightly broken, smushed in on one side, and I always hang it so its whole side is facing outward.

Then I put up the ornament P. gave me the first Christmas we spent together, a beautifully carved miniature wood violin. I need to find a strong twig for it, because it's heavy.

There's the woven straw ornaments S. and I bought at the Swedish Museum when we were very young and broke and that was all we could afford. They're light, so I can hang them on the flimsy twigs. There's a brass angel S.'s parents gave me, back when I think they were hoping we might get married, with my name and the year (1977) engraved on it. There's a bunch of clear glass stars and balls I bought the year I broke up with S., the first Christmas I spent by myself, when I was trying to be all elegant and tasteful.

There's a gaudy painted wooden nutcracker that was given to me one night at the bar by John, a sweet-natured sentimental not-especially-bright alcoholic with whom I used to chat sometimes. I keep it and hang it every year as a reminder to myself about non-judgmentalism, and the kindness that can be found in odd places.

There's a strange and lovely seedpod, from a tree of unknown species in Fresno, near where my grandparents used to live. I picked it up when I was visiting them back in 1985, when I was trying to get them placed in a nursing home and get their house sold, when they were making me insane with frustration. I hang it every year as a reminder to myself to be patient.

There's a set of little straw-and-balsa Victorian houses, which I bought on a whim one December in the '80s, when the nonprofit I used to work for had just closed on a deal to build a new affordable-housing project. I hang them every year to remind myself that no matter how lunatic and ineffectual that job seems in retrospect, my work helped create some homes in which other families are even now celebrating their Christmases.

There's a wooden heart, painted red, given to me by a volunteer agency where I did counseling back in the early 90's, an experience that persuaded me to go into the graduate program that launched me into an entirely new career. I hang it every year as a reminder to myself to give a bit more of myself to others, and to remain open to the unexpected.

There's an odd clay figurine of an unhappy-looking Mexican peasant woman, carrying a heavy load of straw or something on her back. I can't remember where I got her, but I always hang her near the top of the tree, as a reminder that my own life is easy and blessed, and that my comfort rests in part on the suffering of others.

There are a couple of smug-looking ceramic cats, which I hang as a reminder of the ways that my life has been blessed and afflicted by felines.

And there's one tiny inconsequential beige-colored glass ball, about the size of a cherry tomato. It's the only other survivor of my parents' ornaments, and in the normal course of events would have been lost or smashed decades ago, like all its siblings. I hang it every year as a celebration of the survival and endurance of all that is meek, ordinary, unmemorable, and inconsequential

When all the ornaments are finally hung, I put on my Perotin CD, pour some brandy, turn out all the houselights, and plug in the tree. Then I sit for a while, sipping and listening and letting my mind go back in time. How many of these ornaments, I wonder, will I still have when I die?

Like the song says, preserve your memories. And happy holidays to all.

Replies: 10 comments

Kat - what a beautiful and poetic entry. I admire your compassion, your gentleness and your ability to keep Christmas tree decorations for so many years! I don't have great memories of Christmas or things to remind me to be more compassionate,thoughtful and forgiving so I'm going to "borrow" yours. May the Goddess grant you all your true wishes and may next year be healthy, prosperous and joyous for you.

namaste SF Nancy

Posted by Nancy @ 12/20/2002 02:44 PM CST

Thanks so much, Nancy! Best wishes to you as well for the coming year; may it bring a decrease in job aggravation, new opportunities for your art, and much wonderfulness!

Posted by Kat @ 12/21/2002 07:13 AM CST

As a Jewish atheist, I have a deeply bah-humbug attitude about December and its holidays. But your recent entry warmed and delighted me. How good to know that people can still re-invent such a commercialized and co-opted holiday, create their own traditions, and make the experience heartfelt and personally meaningful. It gives me hope.

And yes, I *am* sending comments on chunk the second. This week, in fact!

~ L

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