This Life is Real…and so are the Answers

The aromas of Christmas. If you close your eyes, you can smell them. Crisp, new-fallen snow. Clean and cold in your nose, filling your head with freshness. Cinnamon and cloves, boiling on the stove-top, the taste of apple or pumpkin pie on your tongue. Sugar cookies baking in the oven, lovely and golden on the cookie sheet.

Currier and Ives Painting

The sights of Christmas. Sparkly lights upon the tree. Each ornament a memory of Christmas’ past. Candles flickering upon a table or in a window, a halo of melted ice upon the pane. Snow piled high against a tree, branches lifting white fluff to the sky. A snow man here and there, stick arms pointing crazily. Colored lights adorning houses, icicles ‘dripping’ from the eaves. Snowflakes dancing on the wind, each one unique.

The sounds of Christmas. Carols being sung around the piano, groups trudging through the cold to the next door. Favorite songs come to mind, floating on the air. Children shrieking with joy, crumpled paper upon the floor. Laughter and reminiscing of long ago, my grandfather’s whistle wafting through my memories.

These are from my Christmas album. Each of us has our own. Christmas at my house while growing up was a really, big deal. We lived in large homes and had several trees. One year, the Breakfast Room tree had only edible items on it. We strung popcorn and cranberries, and gum drops as well. We made sugar cookies and decorated them, a hole at the top for string. My youngest brother loved that tree and really enjoyed it…literally. I don’t think there was a decoration left on it by the time Christmas arrived!

My memories come from places that are cold in December. Colorado, Vermont, New York and Minnesota. But for a couple Christmases we lived in Arizona. My mother kept the air-conditioning on so it would seem ‘cold’ in the house. We painted ‘snow’ on the window panes. With a few, frosty mornings, it even seemed more wintery. My mother was great at creating the ambience of a season.

Have I accomplished that for my own children? I’m afraid I probably haven’t. Putting up one tree each year is more of a task than what I want to do. With only one child still at home, the desire to decorate is even less than it used to be. It just seems like a lot of work to drag out all the decorations, put them up for a month and then put them all away. I would rather enjoy the ‘ambience’ at someone else’s house.

Thankfully, our second to youngest and her husband came over yesterday and put up our tree. We went through the ornaments, reflected on the special ones…the years receded. Our daughter took home the ones that were hers, to display on the beautiful tree she and her husband decorated for their first Christmas.

And life goes on. Christmas is the celebration of our Savior’s birth. All the tradition’s that come in from all over the world are what make the memories that each of us have. It is what makes our Christmases special. Each December, we want to remember those aromas, sights and sounds. We want to pull-out those memories, dust them off and relive them, share them with others and make new ones. THAT is why we drag out the tree and boxes of ornaments. We bake far too many goodies for one family to eat, and burn candles, listening to Christmas music. We want the ‘ambience’ of Christmas.

I realize it’s not Thanksgiving Day…yet. I know it’s not just about the turkey…although it certainly plays a very important part in the festivities. Something that reclines in the center of your table, probably would. But this special time has been on my mind.

We all have our earliest and favorite memories of Thanksgiving Day. Each year adds another one, until we have an album of sorts to thumb through and cherish.

My earliest memory was when I was in first grade at Spangler Elementary School in Longmont, Colorado. Our class was having a re-enactment of the first Thanksgiving Day. (I thought that was pretty good and special at the time since I was fairly certain  none of us had been there!) We were to wear long dresses and tall, black hats…large white collars. We could dress as Indians if we wanted to. You know, just like the pictures we had been studying in our history book.

My mother stayed up the night before this big day and made me a long, calico skirt to wear. I absolutely loved that skirt and wore it until I was a teenager and it hit at about the knees. I remember getting up the morning of the celebration at school and hoping I had a skirt to wear. And there it laid, across the back of my mother’s rocking chair in its calico glory, yellow zig-zag trim adorning the flounce. I thought it the most beautiful piece of clothing I had ever owned! I wore it proudly to school, a white blouse complimenting my ‘costume’.

Of course most of the boys dressed as Indians. They had feathers in their hair and stripes on their cheeks. I don’t recall any tall, black hats or white collars. I think even at the age of six or seven we knew this was not cool back in 1970-1971. We all looked magnificent in our Thanksgiving Day Celebration glory.

All our mothers were to make a Thanksgiving dish to share. I don’t remember what my own mother made. I was still enthralled with the skirt! We all gathered on the white-tiled floor of our new school classroom, sitting on a large quilt. We then had our Thanksgiving feast and talked about what we had learned. I do remember praying for our meal as well because we were to be, well…thankful.

Of course many, many Thanksgivings have occurred over the years since that one. I always remember a gathering of family and sometimes friends. My mother was a fantastic meal planner and we always had way, too much great-tasting food. For a few years we had a wood cook stove in our kitchen and that prepared the turkey to perfection…you just couldn’t stand to be in the kitchen!

One of our years in Crown Point, New York brought a huge snowstorm for Thanksgiving. It was just beautiful and my father got some wonderful pictures of our house at that time for our Christmas cards. In later years, I always thought it pretty special that my future husband was in Schroon Lake that same year.

Our years in Arizona don’t really bring special Thanksgiving memories. I must admit, I had a hard time with the holiday season there. I always wanted the ‘Norman Rockwell’ atmosphere. Arizona is beautiful in its own way…but there are not a lot of deciduous trees and white picket fences. It did snow where we lived at the base of the Catalina Mountains, but seriously…it was just not the same!

My marriage and each additional child added more memories to gather in my mind and bore children and grandchildren with in future years. The cycle will continue this Thursday, Thanksgiving 2015.

What are your special memories of this day? What people and places come to mind? We all have a kaleidoscope to share. For us here in America, let’s remember to be thankful for those first settlers that came. For ALL that gathered together and shared the meal. Remember the freedoms we still have, the people that have fought for them over the centuries. Be thankful for family and friends that make this life more enjoyable and share our burdens so that our load is lighter. Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!