I love Christmas. The real Christmas, not the gotta buy stuff for Christmas. Mostly I just like the way it can make people feel. You know the whole ‘Yes Virginia there is a Santa Claus” feeling. I love the memories it creates. It just changes humanity. We all have our favorite Christmas memories.
My parents would not let us have a dog. They were both city kids and didn’t want a dog. We had a fifty-two gallon fish tank once but my folks moved it to their office when my sister was a baby. They were afraid that she would pull it down on herself. They took it to their office where some kid turned up the heater and the fish were all boiled to death over a weekend. The smell that was wafting thru the office was best described as requires professional help to eliminate. My parents were feeling the bad karma from making us get rid of the fish and now the fish are dead and the fact that we couldn’t have a dog so they compromised and let us get a cat.
I found the kitten. I brought her home one day and she became ours. She was a black cat with a white belly. Her name was BeeBee. Christmas came around and the tree went up. We always had a flocked tree. Mom liked white trees. It was in the bay window in our living room. The nativity scene went on the console television. Dad had made the stable to fit exactly over the television. The bottom of the manger was filled with sand. The figurines were all made by my Grandmother who made ceramics and had her own kiln. They were larger than normal and hand painted. I have them in my home. The stage for a Rockwell Christmas picture was set.
My Father had made the traditional trek into the attic to bring down the lights and balls. This was accompanied by the traditional mumbling under the breath. Followed shortly by the traditional screaming at my brother to string out the lights slowly and not to kink the cord. If one light bulb was out the entire strand was out. There was no in between and more likely than not they were out. This of course started the traditional cursing of the lights. It is a custom that was held in many homes across the country. In order to figure out which bulb was out the screamer would start with the first bulb and replace it. If the strand lit up the problem was solved. If not, the screamer would continue until eventually finding the bulb. Once all of the strands were lit the traditional screaming of the lights ended. The tree decoration process continues with the ball placement. This is another critical part of the process. It is imperative to place the big balls on the edges of the branch. Everyone knows that if you place the incorrectly the tree will look bad, people will talk and you will be asked to leave the neighborhood. The joy of the preparation is finished off by the placing of the tinsel, which as everyone knows has to be placed on one strand at a time. There is to be no clumping or else. I’m not sure where the tradition started to place shredded foil on the Christmas tree came from but it arrived at my house. It matched the sponged gold wallpaper. It was the 70’s after all.
The next day was Christmas Eve and we were all excited. We went to bed early and were anxiously waiting for Christmas Eve. My parents always had a party on Christmas Eve and the house was full of excitement. We came down that morning and the smell was unmistakable. It smelled of poop. My sister was a baby then and still in diapers so naturally we checked her but it wasn’t her. We knew it had to be the cat. The cat was sitting on the couch and there was no poop that we could see. We emptied the litter box. The litter box was in the basement. No one really believed that the poop smell had wafted upstairs thru closed doors. We scoured the house. Nothing. Mom looked at the cat who was still sitting on the end of the couch. She was walking over to the cat and passed the manger. She looked down at the nativity scene and saw it. The poop was in the manger. The blood curdling scream that followed was one for the record books. It brought my Father running, mom pointing at the cat and as Dad turned around and bent down to grab the cat, the cat jumped over his head and headed to the chair across from the couch. Dad dove after her and she jumped into the tree. Dad is now trying to catch her before she hits the tree. He is airborne vertical, the cat lands in the tree, the tree falls over on Dad, Mom is shrieking and the cat scurries off. My brother and I are laughing. It was I love Lucy in my living room. Dad got out from under the tree. He put the tree upright to survey the damage. There were a few balls that were broken. The lights made it thru and magically all of the tinsel was in place except for a few pieces that the cat took with her. After the tree fiasco Dad put screws in the wall behind the tree and wired the tree to the screws. That tree, and the trees for many years to come were going nowhere. I couldn’t tell you what I got for Christmas that year but laughter and memories were the best part of it.
