Last Saturday, Christmas paid a visit. You never know when it’s going to show up. All you can do is create the conditions. Sometimes Christmas just needs an invitation.
First I drove out and picked up my two most reliable seasonal collaborators, the boys whom Christmas seems to follow around most of the year. Halloween throws Christmas off track momentarily, but that’s only because the boys are in disguise. This year Tyler was a leprechaun and Bryce a hot dog (in a bun). Once the costumes come off, though, they break out the Santa hats and wear them nonstop from Thanksgiving on. To school, to bed.
Wherever my grandsons are, Christmas isn’t far behind, so I invited them to help me pick out a tree, put it up and trim it. Some kids shovel snow for spending money. Tyler and Bryce could decorate Christmas trees for a living.
But first we had to acquire said tree. I do it later than most. Ten days out. If you buy a tree too early, it dries out by Christmas. The boys tell me that some people still wait till Christmas Eve.
We drove to Rehm Park, where Joe Dombrowski and his troop from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula set up each year, sleeping in their camper. It just doesn’t feel right to grab a wrapped tree from some large chain store. We prefer browsing through a small forest of unfurled firs. After salivating over the overpriced Frasers, we settled, as always, for a slightly less overpriced Balsam. After a good 10 minutes of careful perusing, we found our “home run” tree. One of the guys put it through the mesh-wrap dispenser and tied it on top of our car. We love being part of the tree-topped motorcade cruising up the avenue in mid-December.
The boys are big enough now to carry the tree upstairs to my apartment, leaving behind the tell-tale trail of needles. They’re also strong enough to screw the tree into the stand as I hold it upright. I spin some Christmas tunes while they invade the living room closet to excavate the ornament boxes and sundry seasonal accoutrement, including the lights, which they unsnarl and test and begin feeding me as we circle the tree, fitting the wiring over branches to anchor them. Tyler sings Christmas carols as we wind around.
While I make lunch (my famous bowtie pasta with bacon), they start hanging ribbons and stockings and dangling trinkets from every available knob and drawer handle, then stand on the radiator cover to outline the living-room windows with the extra lights. Bryce also lines up my extensive collection of Christkindlmarket mugs in chronological order, creating an attractive centerpiece for my dining room table.
We pause to eat and the reminiscing begins. We can’t put up a tree without resurrecting all the other trees, retrievable or remindable, from our shared memory bank. In my case that’s a lot of trees. The memories multiply as the hanging of ornaments ensues. Some have achieved iconic status. The typewriter ornament, which they gave me because I’m a writer, goes on first. Then the maple syrup bottle (also their gift), a nod to my inviolable rule that we use only real syrup on our pancakes whenever we go out to breakfast.
After that, it’s a free-for-all, with running commentary provided because ornaments are reflections of our personal preferences and histories (animals, food, birds, cartoon characters, etc.). Bryce is intrigued by the three penguins on a sled wearing knit hats because he and Tyler joined the Crochet Club at school this year (along with Drama Club and Band). They keep busy.
We plumb the mystery of ornaments of indeterminate origin — and appreciate the charm of glittering baubles (reflecting their evolving aesthetics).
At the end, it’s Tyler’s turn to plant the star on top, which Bryce will remind us about next year.
When all is done, and in some cases redone, we stand back in admiration, take a few photos, then I serve up mugs of hot chocolate, while they clean up the boxes and wrappers. We inhale the piney scent and they discuss their theories on how Santa will gain entry to my fireplace-less abode.
The tree looks radiant, I thank my lucky stars to have such wonderful assistance, and at some point during all of this I notice that Christmas has quietly joined us.
It must have something to do with creating the conditions.
With a big boost from two very able enablers.