Hey, kids. Hey, friens! Hi, family. And so on.
Recently, one of my favourite podcast hosts called for audio submissions for a holiday/end of year wrap up “Postcard.” I wrote, redrafted, started from scratch twice, and almost gave up on a thing. Then, in a moment of I-have-nothing-else-better-to-do, said, “You know what? I’m gonna open my voice notes app and wing it.” Six or seven takes later, I had something a bit rough around the edges but absolutely submittable! If by some crazy happenstance it is chosen, I’ll let you know.
What this ALSO did–got me off my arse to finally commission a human to help me set up a place where I can post some simple text and a pic or two. You know. Like Live Journal? For the OLDS? I am proudly Auntie-Crone now, and full of Xennial confusion about the multimedia production one has to do to publish videos on TikTok. (Thanks, Kenny!)
I have SO MUCH to tell you about this last year! I’ve been meaning to, and I swear I will, but for now, my first post is going to be something I wrote five years ago today.
I recorded it for a podcast episode published around the same time. A letter to Da, talking about Christmas. Sadly more folks have passed on since its writing. Times and Seasons, but Times of rememberance and Seasons of Joy and Sorrow, which if you know your Kahlil Gibran…
Anyway, here is my first post. Five years late, but better late than never.
Hi, Da.
There was a light freeze last night, so this morning, I put on my robe and slippers, and stepped outside to watch the sun come up. The winds were coming from the north, making the wind chimes on our patio do a little dance and sing an octave higher- even ambient sounds are different when the temperature drops– like nature’s key change.
As sunup caught in the edges of the sky, the layer of frost on the top of the parked cars sparkled like fairy lights. It is December 1st, and Rudolf comes on network tv this evening and suddenly I am transported from my front door in Baton Rouge, to a parsonage in North Louisiana, circa 1986…
Where I see us in the living room. And we are putting up the tree! On a SCHOOL NIGHT! (Because Rudolf is on tonight, AND there is a “surprise” this weekend?) So, we are putting up the tree.—Well, more like putting the tree TOGETHER since it’s an artificial one.
It’s my special job to sort the limbs into piles based on branch size and the color coding. The likely lead-based paint on the wire connectors has been peeling since at least the Carter administration, and you claim you need my “good eyesight” to do the job for you. You and Mama put the branches on, I help with the little filler bits in between (on the lower half at least!). Mama puts on the lights as well. She doesn’t like any empty spots.
But we get to do the FUN parts–the ornaments and the icicles! Brand-New-Baby-Brother has so many First Christmas ornaments this year and I only have the one. They weren’t such a big deal in 1980 I guess? A lady from the church has made me a special “Big Sister” stocking, and that’s pretty neat. Each ornament comes with a story, and Mama chimes in when you forget. These ones are from your first Christmas together, from the K&B pharmacy in the Alexandria mall. That one came from Harrods in London, when your sis was there with her students. Those were crocheted by MawMaw-Helen and the Tree Skirt as well. The story is MOSTLY the same each year, progressing parallel to the adventures of Rudolf and Hermie and Yukon Cornelius, but both are just as dear. (Deer? That would be a you-joke.)
You take your time with the “icicles”-those little mylar threads, a few at a time, placed just here and there. You let me help a little, and when you proclaim it finished, you turn off the living room lamps. The icicles catch our multicolored lights on the tree and colors bounce off the walls and ceiling and spill into the hallway. My eyes are getting blurry and I’m feeling like a stupid crybaby, but then I see…you are smiling too. It. Is. Beautiful.
It’s also past my little 1st-grade-self’s bedtime, but Mama promises hot chocolate with breakfast to motivate me to be less grumpy at 6:30am. You give me a kiss goodnight and I go to bed, after one last look over my shoulder at our handiwork–and I see you are still standing. Looking at the tree.
It’s so strange how much I remember specifically about Christmas in 1986. Maybe because it was the year that baby brother arrived. Maybe it’s because it was when we got our first VCR. Or, maybe, because that weekend’s surprise was going to a NIGHTTIME in theatres viewing of Star Trek IV: The One With The Whales.
Well, mostly, I remember feeling happy. There were so many things between putting up the tree, and December 25th. ALL of the Christmases!! Church Christmas with singing and candles, and then our special immediate family Christmas, with you reading about the decree and Caesar Augustus and the Shepherds. There was Christmas with your parents and siblings (and so many cousins!) in Sikes and then Christmas with Mama’s Parents (0 first cousins here, but more presents!) And it was :cold: that year…
My holiday reverie is suddenly broken by the sound of a neighbour’s diesel truck rumbling to life. I’m back in 2020, and it is indeed REALLY cold, and there is coffee to be poured for myself and also for Jim, before we go to work. I’m back in 2020, where I grab a mask before I leave the house. Where there aren’t any big fun movies to go and see in the theatres.
Where your absence these past 12 Christmases to quote CS “Jack” Lewis, has been like “the sky spread over everything.” You, and all of the grandparents. And Cousin Andrew. And Aunt Vickie. You were the proprietors of our best traditions.
Those Traditions require a bigger cast of players. There aren’t enough of us to hold it together, in the shape of the “way it used to be.” And so these old lovely traditions are in danger of becoming obligations.
I do not ever want your memory to be an obligation.
I’m putting up our tree tonight. It’s still an artificial one, and it still has a mawmaw Helen-crocheted skirt. This year’s tree is the smallest I’ve ever had, and that might seem sad, too? But it ALSO tells a story.
Noël and Jim!
Our honeymoon and vacations. Gifts from friends and family. Our silly running-jokes. I don’t think they make Mylar icicles anymore. Just enough branches. Just enough lights. Just Enough.
And I have an idea? Instead of joining the Reindeer and his elf-dentist friend, when I decorate tonight, I’m going to watch Star Trek IV. The opening credits score is full of brass, bells, and strings. I think I’ll make it my new favourite Christmas song.
I miss you, Da, but, “THERE BE WHALES HERE!”
Merry Christmas :),
Your Noel
(See 2020 Tree below!)
