Flashback to December 1971 and helping out with the tree-trimming.
I got thinking about this yesterday, while sneaking peeks over my laptop, of Basil setting up the holiday display outside. Hunter, the toddler next door, was beside himself with delight over the process. He raced around the yard, touching and looking and “talking” to the deer and the snowman.
At one point he tried to ride one of the deer. I wasn’t quick enough with the camera to capture that Kodak moment. By the time I tried to snap a photo of him talking to the snowman, he was quite shy and reserved. (I have that effect on people; just ask my Jazzercise classes.)
Hunter’s reaction sent memories tumbling into my mind’s eye. Christmas was always magic when I was a kid.
So today I bring you a picture of me, age 5, and my sister, Traci, 3, helping decorate the tree. Yes, those are curlers in my hair. And probably pin curls, too. Torture. Thank goodness for the advent of the blow dryer.
Back to the tree — it delights me to see many of the same ornaments here as I will be pulling out of storage this weekend (well, except for those we lost in the great tree felling of 2011).
For many years, we had an artificial tree. The process was always the same: Dad was in charge of assembling the darn thing, pulling it a piece at a time out of the cardboard box, and hanging the lights (big, fat colored ones that one year singed a favorite Snoopy ornament). Traci and I were allowed to hang the cloth and plastic ornaments. Mom was in charge of the fragile pieces, the garland AND tinsel.
Here’s how it looked when we were all done:
Looking at the top photo, I can’t help but wonder, though: How many of the ornaments we hung did Mom relocate after we were in bed?