Spirits of Christmases Past

I want to share just a few recollections of Christmases that our family celebrated together. One that came to mind is about our mother, Sybil Miner Beck. Mom had allergies and one particular allergy she tended to ignore at Christmas and that was pine. She had to have a live tree sniffling her way through the holiday season.

What makes it a memory was that she was taking a bath and heard a thump. She quickly dried off, slipped on a house coat and went to investigate. She found the tree sprawled on the floor of the family room. It had fallen over. She decided to push it against the wall until Dad could secure it.

Grasping it, she began to hoist it back into position. As she did her gown opened exposing her chest to the pricking short needles of the pine. Now she’s caught on the horns of a dilemma. Does she drop the tree or finish the job and push it upright? My mom was never a coward and the tree was pushed back up. Mom told us that she developed a long lasting red rash on her chest from the encounter with her enemy the tree.

The tree topper for as long as I can remember was a thick, translucent plastic star that had a red plastic connector that framed the ornament. That star was always a special part of the holiday when Dad lighted it. 

Another ornament that was an integral part of my Christmas was an older frosted glass irregularly shaped bulb. I hung it on the tree every year. It was gold-green in color and had white frosted bands encircling the ridges of it.

Mom allowed me to take it when I became married to my wife Cindy Morrison Beck and it graced our tree at our first Christmas. That bulb became part of our newly formed family’s tradition of the season. One year, it mysteriously disappeared without a trace No ransom note appeared and no one claimed responsibility for its exodus to worlds unknown.

This year, my sister, an E-bay cruiser, found a star similar to the one that topped our tree many years ago and bought it for me. She told me how to browse the E-bay pages and as I did, there was the ornament that I had claimed as mine. It was bunched with several others, but it was the same beloved bulb and it called my name. My sister, Kathy, bless her soul, already had an account and put a bid in on it. I assume that she got it and will have to wait until Christmas to find out. The star or the bulb one will be a gift and the other, I will reimburse her for the costs. 

The last memory that I will share is of my father, Carl. He wasn’t an expressive man, didn’t say much, and his “I love you” were almost non-existent. Each year I would try to get a gift that would have him express that he was happy with what he’d gotten. One year, my brother suggested that since he’d recently joined the fire department, we get him a jacket to match the other members. The members told Dad that they couldn’t order any more. Dad was disappointed. I told my brother Ken, I would try to get one and wanted to buy it myself. I wanted to finally paste a smile on his face from a gift I bought him.

I drove to the store where the fire department purchased jackets and found one still on display. It was Dad’s size. I was able to sweet talk the owner into embroidering Carl on the front and sew on all of the patches of the fire department on it.

Dad still didn’t do much more than mumble thanks when he unwrapped it, but when he held it up he smiled and put it on right away. That told me I’d finally done it. He’d gotten a gift that he really liked.