My memories of Christmas span about 6 decades. Getting close to 7! whew! That’s a long time. I remember holidays when both my Grandparents were still alive. Halloween meant homemade  popcorn balls, and I can still remember the smell of scorching sugar if one or the other forgot to man the stove. There was a lot of love in the house, the two of them dancing around the kitchen or my Grandmother bent double with laughter at something my Gramps said or did. Caramel apples were a special treat and watching my Grams at the stove, wearing one of her numerous aprons, stirring the caramel, laughing at something my Gramps said, still lingers today, many years after they passed. Thanksgiving and Christmas always came with my Grams bent over, pulling the pan  that held the turkey out of the oven, steam rising like a cloud all around her head, the kitchen passing for a native american sweat lodge.

Christmas meant no school or homework, sledding, and snow forts (and the required snowball battles to protect our forts),  singing and dancing, family dinners and gaily wrapped presents under a huge tree.  It was cold snowy mornings with big breakfasts, it was homemade pies and brownies, hot chocolate and late night movies. There were trips to Ebys Pines where we all trooped to pick out just the right tree. My Grams like the shorter fat ones so there would be plenty of space for her ornaments. I remember paper chains, popcorn garland and homemade cookies, my Grandfather practically passing out from the effort to blow up the huge snowman to adorn the front yard, and all of us kids laughing at the faces he made.

I was just about 13 when my Grandfather died unexpectedly. It changed our lives as most deaths in a family do. Traditions fell by the wayside, too painful to continue and new ones slowly took their place.  By that time, my Mom and Stepdad and my siblings were living “in town.”  I stayed with my Grams and she and I continued to decorate every year. There were still family dinners with all the Aunts, Uncles and siblings and over time those new traditions became the norm. As the years went by, I married, had a son, divorced, and after her death, I continued the traditions my Grams and I had carved out over the years. Traditions and memories for my son to enjoy and pass on to his children.

I can’t remember a Christmas without a little plastic Santa, he was my favorite ornament as a girl and he is one of my favorites now. He’s hung on every tree, even on my ficus trees during the lean years. My Grandmother’s angel still adorns the top of my tree, just as it did hers. Or it did until I convinced her to get a new tree topper, a hideous plastic minaret that was filled in the middle with angel hair. Did I mention it was hideous? Sigh. As a teenager I thought it was beautiful. But what did I know? I’m the girl who talked my Grams into getting rid of her beautiful antiques so that we could go modern, as in Danish Modern. Oh, the heartburn I suffer over that! I clearly had no clue back then. My lack of family heirlooms is because of me. ME! arrgh. The pain.

My Grandmother, a wise woman, put some things away in her cedar chest for safekeeping from my modern loving eyeballs. I’m ever grateful to her. Because of her foresight I still have not only her angel, but also her little plastic snowman that still lights up, her bird ornaments and two angel ornaments I updated with new paint. If she could only know how much I treasure those timeworn pieces now…….and that I am the “Memory Keeper” in the family. I wear that title proudly. I guard those few things I have ferociously and will pass on my title to one of my grandchildren when the time comes.

No Christmas is complete without those ornaments and the few vintage holiday things I still have. The snowman, the angels, the little plastic santa. The trio of santa elves who now grace Mr B’s bathroom, where they hold special golf balls instead of  christmas ornaments. The little elf who sits on a pillow, even the unopened package of ornament hooks, still wearing the 2/25¢ price, the box now an ornament in its own right. These things keep the memories of my parents and grandparents alive. The memory of my son is still fresh with special ornaments that he loved. No matter what style my home is, whether it’s “Modern Farmhouse” or “Danish Modern” those memories will always be front and center.  Old things and old memories never go out of style. 

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