Gifts

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Gifts

What I can remember, we had gifts.  Under the tree there would be plenty of gifts.  Most memorable ones were the twin baby dolls I got in 1977.  How I remember this you ask? It’s because it was my baby sister’s first Christmas.  I would take care of my babies, while my Mom took care of my sister. I mean I did have the tougher job between the two of us, I did have two babies while Mom only had one.  I can remember that they could ‘pee’, and that I wasn’t allowed to put water in their bottles.  I had to use my imagination.  I did, they had tea from my tea party’s with my stuffed animals.  Tea, can be just as good as water for babies – right?  They always took cream and sugar.  Those babies were great-but, not as comfy to snuggle with as my stuffed animals.  They were soon ousted.  They weren’t as fun or beautiful as my real baby sister, but man I loved receiving them-and remember like it was yesterday.  Another gift I remember is poignant by two respects.  The first was I wanted to graduate to a 10-speed bike.  Everyone was SO last year with the banana seat style bike.  Like bras, and periods…I seemed to be the last in everything.  Well, not to mention the ‘second’ part II of my bike story.  So, I did get my bike that I had asked Santa for.  I had written the letter and everything, I even helped my sister write hers.  I’m pretty sure I embellished her letter just a tad, and helped her out with what she wanted…So, as the story goes we opened our gifts up on Christmas Eve, it seemed before everyone else but it never seemed to bother me.  I liked opening Christmas Eve, and my friends would ask me how Santa only would come to my house the night before and not theirs?  I never verbally answered, but internally thought ‘Duh!’ There’s so many kids he’s got to deliver to, it’s just how it goes.?…and really didn’t think much further than that.  But, this particular year was a turning point.  I had heard of kids not believing in Santa, and having the heart I’ve been given…I was fortunate enough to still believe.  We would go out to see Christmas lights in all of the neighborhoods in town, and upon our return, the gifts would be presented.  How Santa knew we were gone, was part of his magical ways, again I never questioned it.  Wrapped up in the miracle that the gifts appeared and that they were always amazing.  So, we went out to see the lights, and when we returned on the porch was my fantabulous, powder blue, Peugeot, 10-speed. It was freaking awesome!  NOBODY had one like mine.  I got to test it out in the dark, and it was awkward, or I was.  A 10-speed is a mighty difference from the banana seat.  So, the next morning I went to go for a ride but, before I went on my endurance Christmas ride – I had to eat a hearty breakfy!  My grandmothers were already at the table conversing.  I don’t really know what they ever talked about…but, they were there.  Mom was cooking away…I grabbed some cereal.  As I was consuming my breakfast, I noticed that one of my grandmothers had a gnarly bruise on her arm.  I asked her where she got it?  She quickly retorted, “I got it from putting your damn bike on the front porch!”  Okay, I tried to play it cool.  My heart was beating out of my chest cavity.  I could hear it beating in my ears…What?  How could you have put it on the porch?  Santa did, when we went on our ride to see the lights!  I never said a word, I rode my beautiful bike all day.  I cried in my room later, for being such a numbskull.  I guess the rumors were true.  Santa isn’t real. 

It took years for me to believe following that horrid event.  But, when I became a mother, later on in life.  I was helping my son write his letter to Santa.  He wanted a fishing rod, a tackle box, and some tractors.  We carefully addressed it and brought it to the mailbox.  As I can only imagine other mothers do…I was gleaming.  We were able to get him the things he asked for even in our rough times.  We selected his gifts, hid them appropriately, and waited for the day.  We celebrated on Christmas morning as I became a parent.  It was easier to lie to my child…and then children that Santa came in the night.  So as it happened, one day we returned from being out and about following the letter being sent to the Big Man Himself.  I noticed there were gifts on the porch as we approached.  I could see that for obvious reasons, one of the gifts was definitely a fishing rod.  I thought, who had answered his letter?  It must have been his grandparents?  They were the only ones, other than Santa himself to know of the wished for items.  I placed them under the tree, and called his grandparents.  Nope, it was not them.  Christmas morning came, and he opened his gifts…that year he got 2 fishing rods, 2 tackle boxes, and 2 tractors.  It was then, that I had renewed my belief in Santa.  I never knew who answered his letter, I asked everyone I could.

I believed in every which way in Santa.  I have never lost my belief or love for this beautiful tradition only lost sight of it for a while.  When I became a mother of 5, I had an opportunity to go and be a part of a Christmas event that was being held for adoptive and foster children.  I only brought my littlest at the time, he was in the front pack (my bra/tank top) and covered up in my sweatshirt and then jacket.  I wore him everywhere he was so little, nobody knew he was even there.  Anyhow, I was helping get the toys ready for the children who didn’t have forever homes.  There were children of every age, every size…the room was filled-wall to wall.  There were children who went without for certain, and children who had restarted their lives many times over…there were children who didn’t know Santa.  I was watching the moments occur before my eyes, as the names were called out, of each child who was receiving the gifts.  Santa would hold the gift and the child would come up to receive them, and run off to open them…The teens were too cool for that…but, they did it anyhow-and I could see a glimmer.  In particular, this one little girl stands out in my memory.  She had clothes that were dirty, too small, and her hair was messy.  She didn’t smile, she seemed vacant.  I can picture her in my memory…she did have a brand spanking new jacket on…She sat not paying any attention to the going’s on…or so you thought.  Then it happened, her name was called.  It was as if time stopped for that one moment.  She bolted up, and screamed out, “He said MY NAME! HE SAID MY NAME! He’s never came to me before!  He’s never remembered me!!!”  She RAN up there, and said to him – “You’ve never remembered me before! THANK YOU!”…and again…as I recall this moment…I’m tearing up – & I believed in Santa again.

Life is funny…I can’t tell you many gifts that were so important to me that they stick out…for each and every year.  But, I can remember memories, and a handful of gifts that were special to me…So, remember this my friends…It’s not always the ‘gift’ you receive…but, how indeed you receive the gift itself.  I’ve got a lot more from where this comes from…but, for now I’ll leave you with the above…and a note to always believe.

 

xo,

T

Tree in da Howssssss

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Beginnings:

So, through my findings and research on the Christmas tree origination I found that prior to the tradition of what we know today as a ‘Christmas Tree’ there were pieces of greenery brought into homes (wreathes, boughs, & trees) to ward off witches, ghosts, evil spirits and even illnesses.  Can you imagine in today’s world if we put up greenery to ward off child predators, computer viruses, divorce, cancer and such?  It also appears that the German’s are the people’s who are credited for the ‘Christmas Tree’ we now know and as ‘heathens’ continue to keep going.  German settlers brought it to America…& BAM it stuck after some resistance.  Thank you Germany. In addition to the Christmas Tree, caroling, and decorating was an act that was punishable. Yes, you read it right, you would be punished if you desecrated the sacred holiday by having a tree, singing, or by decorating.  I’m going straight to H-E (Double Hockey Sticks), in a hand basket!  I knew it!  

My Family Tradition

As far back as I can remember, which only keeps getting further and harder to remember…our trees were stolen.  I didn’t know this until later…but, it’s true.  The family funds were low and we lived in an area on the North Coast of California where trees…well, they were everywhere.  So, we’d go out in the woods, and race out, dust billowing behind us to eliminate the chances of being caught I’m sure…? This went on for years.  My Grandfather would offer to get a tree for us when he went to go get everyone else’s, but my Mom didn’t like ‘Silver Tips’ (I sure did, and always wanted one.) She was such a rebel.  So, instead we got the illegal, stolen tree…that resembled Charlie Brown’s tree from time to time.  We’d always place the worst side on the wall side.  Spun that sucker around and around, while everyone would weigh in on which side was the worst…then put that bare side on the wall-very convenient.  Space saving even.  So, it wasn’t until I was in High School that my parents purchased their first tree that I can remember.  I was shocked!  

Adorning ornaments, mostly handmade during our childhood years.  In the 70’s & early 80’s they were mostly made of a dough-like material, and painted with a water based paint.  I just chuckled aloud as I typed that, in memory of the ornament morphing that occurred over the years.  My Mom would hold on tightly to those memories by keeping these treasured moments, as they turned to colored mush.  She would revel in their beauty (an ornament that only a mother could love) and retell the stories, I now retell over my children’s treasured moments, of macaroni, and photos cut of simply faces.  Christmas ornament adornment is a genuine understanding of only those who have crossed the motherhood line & Christmas is a topper of Motherhood moments in my book….of all Motherhood moments & memories.  

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I grew up in a time when safety was not an issue.  Again, let me remind you it was the 70’s – oil lamp lights that bubbled when they got hot enough that you couldn’t touch them adorned many a tree in the hood.   Bulb lights that were so incredibly hot you couldn’t ‘touch’ them…but hey, let’s put them on a tree that becomes dryer, and more flammable by the minute.  Yah! Let’s do that!  Wait!  Let’s flock it too!  (The kids get a kick out of that word.  You know what they’re thinking.)  Let’s spray chemical’s on the tree and make it look like snow…THEN place the fire starting lights on.  Heathens!  We’re heathens I tell you!  

The big question in our house was one of this..What color lights?  My Grandparents had blue.  My Mom didn’t approve of these blue lights.  I always thought their lights were blue because my Grandmother loved Elvis & watched all of his movies on TV of the 70’s in marathon style.   Why I thought this?  I’m not certain. Were they on around Christmas?  Jailhouse Rock maybe? http://youtu.be/_fJXnM-KWlk But, for some God awful reason I associated the blue lights with Elvis, even to this day.  My Mom said it looked like a Hanukkah Tree.  The ornaments & the garland were blue..AND oh yah, you guessed it…THERE WAS TINSEL.  (It wasn’t blue.)  Who uses tinsel these days?  I know that we would carefully take out ‘no more than three strands of tinsel, two or even one was spot on – great…but, no more than three was acceptable…to each branch.  Oh the dreaded tinsel.  I HATED tinsel.  The fears of the cat playing and eating the tinsel…then ‘someone’ pulling the tinsel out of the cats butt was horrific to a small child.  Even more horrific to an adult child.  So, back to the color of lights – We always had colored lights, even if it were a question each year.  We decorated and decorated and loved doing so.  We would spend a whole bunch of time with our Mom decorating and making the house look like Christmas time, it was truly a treasured time of the year in our home.

Adult Tree Time

For the record, I’ve never stolen a tree.  I may have been an accomplice for years (unknowingly of course- More tales to follow regarding my what is right is right…and what is wrong is wrong & then maybe it will be easier to understand…me.  Oh! You want to know about my Adult Tree Time??? Yep! You guessed it!  My first tree on my own was a silver tip.  I wanted one soooo badly, I got it.  It was expensive, but if that was the only thing that I bought for Christmas-then I was going to be okay. I also bucked the system.  I did not have tinsel, nor colored lights.  I contrary to the belief systems of either the Elvis/Hanukkah tree, or the colored lights tree…I had clear lights…or white lights.  I like all of the trees…the Stolen Trees, the Elvis/Hanukkah tree, and the Adult Tree…It is one of the most wonderful times of the year…for most-of the time.

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