A Brother, A Sister, and a Tinsel Star

I haven’t always celebrated Christmas.

When I was a girl there were a few years that my family chose not to participate in the holiday mayhem … the reasons really aren’t relevant right now, and I don’t remember much about not celebrating.

What I do remember is the year we decided to have Christmas again. It’s the first Christmas I can remember. As best I recall …

… my parents decided we’d have Christmas, but not put up a Christmas tree.  My brother, Jeff, and I thought otherwise. We decided to surprise the whole family.  We’d buy a Christmas tree, and the decorations to go with it, and quietly put it up after everyone else had gone to bed on Christmas Eve.

We scraped together some money and walked down to the Minute Market and bought a little tree. We carried it back home, across the back yard, and up into our treehouse for safe keeping.   Of-course Mom, who was standing at the kitchen window, watched us haul the tree across the yard and hoist it up to the treehouse.  It must have been an amusing sight, but she didn’t say a word.

We asked Dad to take us to Bob Johnson’s Supermarket where we bought what decorations we could afford. We carried our secret treasure out to the wood-paneled station wagon.  Dad played along, as if there was nothing odd about driving us to the supermarket and waiting, at our instruction, in the car while we shopped.   He didn’t say a word.

When we got home we hid the tiny glass balls, the tinsel star, and brightly colored lights.

I don’t remember how our plan was spoiled, but I do remember trying to figure out how to stand a tree in a bucket.  I’m guessing Jeff and I realized that we wouldn’t be able to do it on our own, so at some point we must have asked for help.

So … we put up the tree as a family, with the tiny glass balls, and the tinsel star. The next morning I got a Baby Alive, and a yellow parakeet that I named Katie … and a bookmark that said “Keep smiling! It makes the whole world wonder what you’ve been up to.”

Our family has celebrated Christmas, to varying degrees, each year since.  Some years we’ve fallen into over-buying, other years we’ve made gifts for one-another (can’t say that went over real well).

At some point the tinsel star, with its orange, turquoise, and amber lights got packed away.  The tinsel was coming off, and more attractive versions of the Christmas star replaced it.

But I’m a sentimental girl, and have somehow wound up the proud caretaker of the sweet old star. I’m happy to say that each Christmas since Frank and I have been married, we’ve taken great delight in opening the little box of glass ornaments, and unpacking the tinsel star.

The tiny glass ornaments are the only boxed ornaments on our tree.  The rest are ornaments my son made when he was little, or the result of our tradition, which began that Christmas so many years ago, of giving one ornament each year.  The last decoration is the tinsel star. It’s held together now with bread ties and a prayer.

When I see the tinsel star, I think about that Christmas. I appreciate how much I love my family, and still think my brother is the best big brother in the world.  I can still see my mother standing at the kitchen window of my childhood home, always keeping tender watch over us, no matter what the season.  I believe my father, always the traveler, was probably only too happy to drive us to Bob Johnson’s that night … we put many miles on our station wagons over the years.

Keep it simple.  Embrace imperfection.  Cherish good memories.

Merry Christmas ~