The Christmas Angel - A Poem

The Christmas Angel - A Poem

Just Returning to Say, "Sincerest Christmas Wishes" Again This Year

I put this site together a couple of years ago because it seemed to me that sometimes people can use a little boost when it comes to coming up with some Christmas spirit. As I said in the introduction, there's lots of merriment around for the "merry". Sometimes it can seem as if the not-so-merry" (regardless of why they're not merry) are overlooked - driven "into the closet". Most of us, if we're old enough, have had the occasional Christmas when finding some spirit was pretty challenging. There are times, too, when the only reason we don't feel all that merry is that we're so darned busy at this time of year.

So, I've resurrected this site, in the hopes that someone who needs a little Christmas spirit may find some in the music, videos, links, and whatever else there is on here.

Right now (as I've mentioned in my "note" above, it's still only September (and I'd like to hang onto this beautiful September weather until at least Halloween, although October weather is generally another matter altogether).   I'd like to add a few new things to whatever is here, but if I don't manage to get the time I like to think most of what's here is pretty "evergreen".  I WILL be back, but most likely not for another while.

Just A Hub About Christmas and Christmas Spirit

Just A Hub About Christmas and Christmas Spirit

How to Make Your Artificial Christmas Tree Look Better

How to Make Your Artificial Christmas Tree Look Better

On Having An Artificial (Fake) Christmas Tree - Just Thoughts (and Lots of Them)

The debate over real-versus-fake Christmas trees has gone on, I'm guessing, since the invention of artificial trees (or at least since they made their way into a lot of homes, since most people accept the fact that fake trees exist in offices, stores, malls, and wherever real trees aren't practical or fire-safe enough. When I was a kid members of my family were private "horrified" when my young-married cousin got a silver tree (complete with rotating light wheel that made it turn colors) and invited everyone from third-cousins closer (and their brothers) to view this "newfangled" spectacle. To this day there is still the occasional reference to that gliche in history when fake trees were at their worst and reserved for only those lacking in good, Christmas, "taste". While green fake trees were bad, silver was just beyond comprehension (and rotating light wheels brought any silver tree from "beyond to comprehension" to laughable).

We were a "real-tree-only" family. I won't go into all the bad things we had to say about fake Christmas trees because you've probably heard them all before anyway. When my childhood family moved to a new house that had a fireplace in the living-room we often discussed how nice it would be to have a fire in it at Christmas time. My father always said we couldn't have a fire if we had a real tree, because the place-of-honor location for our tree each year was too close to the fireplace. As we, kids, grew toward our late teens there was increasing talk about having a fire in the fireplace. I guess it was because kids that age long for "feeling like Christmas" more than they often do. So, one year my parents decided to make the jump from a real tree to a fake one. Not willing to accept any number of the "lousy-looking" fake trees on the market, they made it a point to select the highest priced tree they could find. Having accepted that there would be "no smell" with this tree that so went against all of our grains, and accepting that we could not use the same old string of hot-burning, old fashioned, lights we'd used for years, we began to enjoy our Christmas times with the ever-handy Duraflame logs and the occasionally unsettling sparks that flew out past the fireplace screen. Like most people with "living" fireplaces, we learned the extreme importance of an open flue.

Completely aware that this new tree didn't really measure up to any of the previous ones, we reminded ourselves that it was better shaped and fuller than any real one we'd ever have; and we convinced ourselves it looked "nice enough" (even if was "too bad" we couldn't have the "regular lights"). With us, kids, as grown up as we were, and with this revolutionizing of our Christmas, my mother apparently decided this was a good time to break it to us that it was time to stop using the beaten up, hand-made-and-Crayola-crayon-colored, paper ornaments we'd so faithfully hung on every tree since kindergarten. It was also time to get rid of things like the string of eight tiny reindeer that had been broken and lost to the point of only being three tiny reindeer. My older sister's kindergarten contribution had also been some Santa faces made from cotton balls, two sequins for the eyes, one for the nose, and (apparently) none for the mouth (although she was five years older than I, so I think by the time I came along the mouths had already lost their Elmer's glue). In any case, it was time to stop using the cotton-ball Santa faces since they'd pretty been turned into faceless cotton balls with a sequin or two and a red, paper, hat. We would, of course, save them - just not use them.

I don't know what my younger brother thought of all these Christmas changes, but my sister and I reluctantly admitted we glad not to "have to" use those Crayola, Elmer's glue, and paper-fastener decorations any longer. In spite of any reservations about "those little lights" and no smell, we had our new, more grown-up, Christmases and fires in the fireplace. By the second year we had adjusted to the fake tree. (It was, after all, "better" than most.) Even so, no Christmas went by without at least a few remarks that justified the fact that we had sunken to the depths of using a fake tree with no smell. I don't actually recall how many of these new, grown-up, Christmases we had before my father died on Thanksgiving in the early 1973. By that time my sister was married, and my brother was still young. I fell into inheriting my father's role as "Christmas-tree putter-upper and light-stringer". I also fell into the role of sole Christmas-tree decorator. This would apparently become our "tradition" until I got married in the late 70's. A year didn't go by when I didn't think about how I "shouldn't have inherited this job" so early in my life.

When my husband and I were "young marrieds" and living in an apartment there was the usual question such young couples have, "Should we bother with a tree when we aren't home most of the time, and when we'll be having Christmas at parents' homes anyway?" There were the usual suggestions of friends and relatives, "Why don't you just get a small tree for a table?" As far as I was concerned, a small tree on a table was a table decoration - not a Christmas tree. I decided I'd buy a fake tree but not spend a lot of money for it. (After all, we weren't home most of the time.) Since we had no children yet, and since our "real" Christmas would be celebrated at my mother's house, I indulged the dream a lot of young women have of decorating a tree according to my own idea of what makes a beautiful tree, without less regard for tradition than "designer ideas". I got a full-height, but kind of slender, fake tree on clearance at the now defunct, Bradlees, for about $13 (marked down from about $35); and I chose an all-gold theme that said, "No children live here, but someone with a real eye for a professionally decorated tree does." There year when I was expecting my first child was the year I developed pregnancy complications around Christmas and was hospitalized on New Years' Eve. When I left the hospital with a complicated pregnancy still intact I was too worried about doing anything too strenuous, and my husband was working long hours, so I sat on the couch a lot and looked at that tree for about three weeks longer than it should have been up before deciding to dismantle it a little at a time. It was the end of February when I was hospitalized again, and the pregnancy ended unsuccessfully. The following year I would change the theme of the cheesy and cheap fake tree because I wouldn't want to be reminded of the previous year.

The year we adopted our son brought yet more changes to the tree because this was now "a child's tree". No longer should it look like a "designer tree". I went with a more traditional decorating theme. A few years later we would bring our second son, born prematurely and requirikng extra time in the hospital, home the day before Thanksgiving. It would be a great Christmas that year, but I was glad not to have a fatter tree to fill with decorations. We would be having several guests for Christmas dinner that year. There was also, of course, all the shopping. I had a child in kindergarten and a premie to care for. It was good to have a fake tree and not have to worry about finding and dragging home a real one, sawing it off, getting it set up in water, and watering it. More than I had in previous years, I was actually kind of appreciating having a fake tree.

The last year that Bradlees tree would be used as the main tree was the year I was expecting my daughter. She was due at the end of January and threatened to be born in October. Now THAT was a Christmas for which preparations were a real challenge. We brought our little girl home a couple of days after News Years Day, and the living room was filled with a mixture of Christmas and new-baby "atmosphere" of pink balloons, leftover hospital flowers, and whatever other pink, new-baby, items had been brought into the house.

The following year, with three children (none of whom was in the process of being expected, the process of being adopted, or the process of being a premie newborn), we got a new, artificial, tree that looked more like a tree ought to look. "The good kind" of artificial trees were out in stores. The days of the big, fat, branches were over. The new trees looked more like real trees. The children were getting bigger, after all. There would be no more "they don't know the difference anyway." Besides, we were a family now. Families need "good" trees. The Bradlees tree was relegated to the family room, and would be given a "children's theme". The new tree, with a traditional-yet-beautiful theme, took its place in the living room. We weren't just a two-tree family. We were a two-fake-tree family. How on Earth had such a thing happened?

Through moves and changes (and general wearing out), the Bradlees tree was retired. Over time I perfected my tree-decorating techniques, and each year I'd make slight changes or additions to earlier tree theme. My role as "tree-putter-upper-and-decorator" was well estabished; although, of course, the children helped hang the ornaments each year (after I'd put up the tree, strung the lights, and gotten some of the other "basics" on the tree). Any tree-putter-upper knows that hanging the ornaments is the least of anyone's problems.

The year my mother was wheelchair bound I put up the tree in her house (one she had gotten years earlier to replace the old, long-lasting, tree she and my father had bought together). The following year, when she died the day before Thanksgiving (Thanksgiving has certainly brought its share of life-events for me), I robotically dug out her Christmas tree, put it up, and put a single candle in her living-room window. Although I put up her own tree, I bought a bunch of new, meaningless, decorations because I wasn't ready to look at the ones I'd so often hung so many years before.

It had turned out that in our family, fake trees had become the tradition. Each year there has always been the digging out of one tree or another; and as each artificial tree has been replaced somewhere along the way, each new tree has been one with each this "tree putter-upper-and-decorator" has become intimately familiar. One year, a few years ago, in a fleeting moment of believing it was better to have a real tree, we got a perfect real tree, believing it would be great to once again have a real tree with a real smell (especially since this particular tree was so full and perfect). Sure, it meant feeling sad to see it out for the trash after Christmas; and, to be honest, it wasn't really my idea to give into the urge to have a tree that smells. Still, we went with it.

It turned out the perfect tree didn't have a bit of smell. On top of it, everyone who saw it just thought it was our usual artificial tree! In the meantime, there was the matter of watering it and needles. Since I'm not just the "tree-putter-upper", but the "tree-taker-downer", I was careful not to just toss the tree on the ground as it waited for pick-up. Instead, I lovingly and sentimentally leaned it against a tree out front. Somehow that seemed kinder and more respectful than just throwing it on the side of road.

A few years ago we made the jump to a "really-top-of-the-line" fake tree; and with the benefit of decades of experience making a fake tree look really great, these days we have (I think it's safe to say) an enviably great-looking Christmas tree. The kids are grown, so it seems kind of right that with their maturity level going up should come a Christmas tree that is equally mature in its polish, beauty, and level of inspiring awe (along with a little extra sense of magic). It doesn't take a grand and awe-inspiring tree to make one three-year-old child feel like Christmas; but when young, single, adults arrive and say, "Now I feel like Christmas," - now THAT it is enough to make all the decades of being a "tree-putter-upper, decorator, and taker downer" worth every week's worth of plastic-pine-needle cuts in one's hands well worth it.

It turns out that digging out that fake tree every year actually can feel quite traditional to those of us who dig it out, and quite traditional to those accustomed to seeing that same tree each year. We "tree-putter-uppers" learn that, while we are a stranger to each new, new (real or fake) tree we get, we're never strangers to an old, familiar, family tree. Family trees (whether ancestry-related or Christmas-related) evolve. They're not disposable. They have a history. It turns out, at least from what I've seen, that family trees can be about as traditional and treasured as it gets - and sometimes that's well worth the price of not having the living-room smell like real pine.

As I sit here and think about dragging the Christmas tree out of its box in the basement, I think of how I've been putting up at least one fake Christmas tree since 1973; with the exception of that one glitch in family history when I only had to put lights on and decorate that one, smell-less, real, tree. It's not a job I look forward to, and I really don't look forward to having my "Winter-dry" hands getting chopped to bits once again. Still, once the tree is up each year, I can't help but feel as if it's as real as anything in this life can get.

The Christmas Tree Lights War - White, Colored, or Other?

In some families (or between some couples) everyone agrees on whether Christmas tree lights should be colored or white, and so in those households there is no Christmas Tree Lights war. Then, however, there are those households in which the war (or at least minor, secret, longing and/or resentment) results when someone wants colored lights on the tree and someone else wants all white lights.

This can happen when someone has grown up with tree lights "always" being colored or "always" being white, and many people want those things that made them feel like Christmas carried on into adulthood. Then, too, there are people who always wished their own parents had the other color lights, vowed to have the color of their preference when they grew up, and then find themselves living with someone who shares the opposite preferences that parents had. What to do? What to do? Someone isn't going to be happy, unless...... everyone in the house gets the tree lights he wants.

As a long-time resident in the land of the Christmas Light Cold War, several years ago I finally realized that the color of the tree lights doesn't have to be an "either/or" situation. One tree can have both. Yes, this means twice the cords to bury into branches and twice the tangling to deal with before and after Christmas (not to mention twice the cost of buying all those lights, but these days lights are inexpensive); but stringing two completely different light colors lets everyone be happy some of the time.

Stringing lights in a way that allows one plug to cover the white lights, and a separate plug to cover the colored lights, allows for lighting the tree with only white, only colored, or both (a particularly sparkling and festive look, but get out the sunglasses if you have a lot of lights).

Further variety in "look" can be achieved by using the kind of sets of light that allow for several different blinking arrangements (individually, all at once, high speed, low speed, only every six bulbs, etc. etc.).

Lighting looks can be changed according to who is home or time of time. (I use the colored/white combination for early evenings when one person is home and white lights only when I'm alone in the house or for days or late nights. On Christmas day I use both sets because the tree looks particularly bright, sparkly, and festive. I have a feeling when I leave the house there's a good chance the only-colored-lights arrangement may be used. I, personally, never choose that one.

This stroke of lighting good will and "brilliance" has served our family well over the last several years, and I'll never have another Christmas tree with only one color lights again.

Rats - My Floodlight's Broken! A Christmas "Emergency"

Every Christmas, like "half the rest of the world", I hang a traditional wreath on my front door. Sometimes I just hang a traditional, natural, wreath with a tradition bow. Sometimes I add berries or other decorations. It depends on my mood, how sick I am of the "same old wreath" of the most recent years, and my mood.

A few years ago we changed the lighting on the front porch, though, and it wasn't until I hung the Christmas wreath months later that I discover the light doesn't really hit the wreath. So, in the darkness of night, the wreath looks like a shadowy blob on the door. In fact, it actually seems to darken the light ordinarily given off by the porch light.

By the time I discovered this the first year it was a little too late to get a temporary flood light to shine on the door. I vowed to get one the next year, but I couldn't find the kind I was looking for. I went through two Christmases with the front-door/wreath situation irking the heck out of me at night (and if your lights and decorations don't look good at night, what's the point?).

Last year I set out early on my quest for a holiday floor light. Thinking WalMart specializes in such things, I went to their lighting department. A friendly sales associate asked what I was looking for; and when I told her, she went on to explain how I'd need someone to do a whole, big, electrical wiring thing to accomplish what I wanted to accomplish. I knew better.

After looking at a few stores I was preparing for another shadowy Christmas door, and then - much to my surprise - I found exactly what I was looking for in Brooks Pharmacy. It would need a lamp and an extension cord, but I was delighted. I bought the lamp and the extension (green so it could be discreet).

Happily I stuck the holiday floodlight into the ground by the walk, and I carefully arranged the cord so it wouldn't show and wouldn't get caught in the snowblower if it snowed. The door looked absolutely perfect, and for the first time in a few years I was really happy with it. With the first couple of snows that fell the light just melted the snow around it (it occurred to me that a whole bunch of them would make clearing the walk unnecessary, although I knew it was a ridiculous notion). With one storm, though, the light was knocked over and then frozen into the snow. As I tried to carefully get the whole "arrangement" restored to its normal "beauty", the glass lamp sprung from my hand, hit the blacktop, and broke. I immediately replaced it, and for another little while I had the great front door lighting again. Not long after that, I looked out to discover the lamp was out again. I assumed it was yet more storm damage and resigned myself to not having that "perfect" door for the rest of the season. (Christmas was over by this time anyway.)

I bought a replacement lamp, thinking that's all I'd need this year. Recently, when I dug out the Christmas floodlight, thinking I'd just add a new lamp and be all set, I discovered the thing made a snap when I screwed in the lamp. I tried a second one, and the same thing happened. Apparently, the little piece of junk was only meant to last for about two weeks before Christmas (as long as there were no snow storms and certainly no ice storms).

So, now that I've discovered this recently, here I am - faced with the challenge of either living with a shadowy wreath or hoping to find another temporary, junky, floodlight that may or may not last until Christmas. Oh - woe is me. Woe is me. Of course, we all know that I'll be out looking for yet another one of those cheapy Christmas floodlights until I find one. (Since I'm not inclined to put a spotlight on my front door at any other time of year, the idea of installing a "real" floodlight doesn't interest me.)

In the meantime, there it is - the wreath that turns into a shadowy blob at night, probably causing all passers by to think, "Well, the window lights are nice but I wonder why they hang that non-descript, black, blob on their door each year." Oh - woe is me! Maybe I should buy a case of the cheapy floodlights and just kind of realize they should be seen as five-day, disposable, affairs.


December 03, 2009 Note: Ask me if I ever got that new floodlight. No. I completely forgot about it until I came to this site and saw this post as a reminder. ("Note to self - Buy new floodlight before next Monday, for goodness sake!!")