And Suddenly, It is Christmas

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Suddenly, it is Christmas. Here’s praying that the new year brings peace and prosperity, that at least some of your hopes and wishes are fulfilled. As for me, I am grateful as always for family, friends, and undeserved good health.

Once again, our house is filled with decorations. However, an overly curious kitten named Ozzie the Terrorist compelled my Beautiful Mystery Companion to only decorate the top half of the indoor tree. He has mainly behaved around the rest of the decorations. A judiciously used spray bottle of water provides an incentive for him to stay out of the collection of Santas and crèches in the house.

For the first time, I paid a fellow to hang outdoor lights along our house’s roofline. He did a great job, will come back to take them down after New Year’s and store them until next holiday season. My days of climbing up on a ladder to string lights passed about the time I started drawing Medicare.

I bravely climbed into the attic and brought out four contractor bags of garland, which I strung along the white entry fence to Three Geese Farm. Under each 10-foot piece, I hung a large ornamental ball. It was a pleasant way to spend a Saturday afternoon after Thanksgiving. The weather even cooperated, with a chilly wind making it actually feel like the season.

We tromped out into the woods here at Three Geese Farm, small chainsaw in hand, and found our Charlie Brown Christmas tree for the back patio. It is a scraggly pine, about 4 feet high. I filled one feed bucket with river rock, brought up an empty one. My BMC held the tree upright in the feed bucket, which was nestled in a large wicker basket. I poured the rock into that bucket to create a sturdy tree stand. Daughter Abbie hung 300 feet of lights on the tree, its thin branches groaning under the weight.

The weather on Christmas Day is supposed to approach 80 degrees. Sigh. Winter in East Texas. It could be shorts while sweating, or sweatshirts and gloves. It looks as if it will be the former when I fry the Christmas turkey with our electric fryer set up on the tailgate of the 2001 Tundra farm truck.

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My favorite Christmas decoration is a ceramic crèche that belonged to my parents. It is at least 60 years old, some of the figures chipped in places. There is a hole in the roof in which a Christmas bulb can be inserted, which my mother always did. I prefer to leave it unlighted, reasoning the actual manger didn’t have electricity. The entire crèche is only 10 inches wide. Baby Jesus is about the size of a pecan. Usually, it sits in my study where I can admire it and remember the many Christmases spent with family and children. With Ozzie the Terrorist kitty lurking about, it is hidden in the main bedroom, behind closed doors.

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It has become a tradition of mine to tell this story each Christmas. My earliest memory of Christmas is from 1959 or 1960. I can’t be sure if I was four or five years old. We always spent Christmas Eve at my maternal grandparents’ house outside of Concord, N.H., in a tiny house crowded with cousins on that night. I was lying in my grandparents’ bed, looking out the narrow windows near the ceiling, so you could see the stars.

I saw Santa Claus streaking across the sky and realized I had better get to sleep, or the old man might skip this house. My cousins would really be upset with me.

Sure enough, in front of the fireplace the next morning were gifts from St. Nicklaus. The plate of cookies held only crumbs, and the carrots for the reindeer were gone.

I know. It was probably an airplane headed to Boston, or perhaps a meteor shower. I prefer to believe it was Santa. Certainly, that’s what I thought back then.

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I hope we all reflect on the true meaning of this season, do an act of kindness for a stranger, or possibly accept a kindness from someone.

Merry Christmas and God Bless.

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