That there is the family home, circa I’d say about 1975. Dad had gotten a printed set of pictures from someplace, I’m thinking either Caldor or the local AGWAY and went to the lumberyard to get plywood to glue them on, and then cut them out with a jigsaw. Lots of curves on there, but he always had a deft hand and they came out really good. Especially the reindeer. I remember the whole crew of eight reindeer came with the set, but our front yard wasn’t big enough to host them all, and plywood was expensive as well, so four reindeer were deemed sufficient.

He then rigged up spotlights to illuminate them, wrangled the wires so they were protected from the snow (no one wants a spectacular fire of your Christmas display)as well as holders so they projected on the display correctly. Metal stakes that normally would hold the wire protecting the garden supported each of the figures (and sleigh) and it was done. I remember that it took probably an evening or so to get them all out of the crawlspace above the garage, hauled down and dusted off, set up in the lawn and wired correctly, then we’d have the big reveal for the neighborhood. Granted we lived on a cul-de-sac, so pretty much the only people that saw the display were the neighbors, but I expect they appreciated our sense of season.

Mom would decorate the inside of the house appropriately as well, especially when it came to the mantle above the fireplace. She had heirlooms from her family going back several generations, and they adorned the mantle as well as the alcove next to the fireplace. I still have both nativity sets, the large one with the alabaster-looking figures, and the wooden manger as well as the smaller one that sat in the aforementioned alcove. Not being the religious sort myself anymore, I don’t go for that sort of thing, but from a familiar historical standpoint, I can’t bear to let them go. Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures of their display to show, just memories in my head.

Christmas at our house was always a festive time of year. The Saturday after Thanksgiving we all would pile into the Oldsmobile station wagon and take the trip up to the most northern part of the county to the Christmas tree farm to get our tree. Dad would bring the old red plastic handled saw and Mom would stay in the car while my brother and I would accompany Dad to the hill where the Douglas Firs were. Dad was 6’2″ and the ceilings in the house were 8 feet so he’d use his outstretched hand above his head to measure which tree would fit in the living room. He was almost always dead on in his ad-hoc measuring., Occasionally he’d have to shave off an inch or two from the base (never the top!) to make it fit, but it always worked out in the end. He’d cut the tree at the base himself, drag it down the hill with my brother and I helping even though he was doing the vast majority of the work when we were younger. Once we got down to the car, we’d wrap it in the old canvas drop cloth we’d normally use for hauling leaves to the burning pile a month prior, and tie it to the top of the car. Dad was pretty expert with the ropes as well, and his knots were spot on. We never had a tree get loose once it was tied on top, or later on shoved into the back of the station wagon. He knew what he was doing.

Once we arrived home, Mom would go boil some water while Dad and us boys hauled the tree out of the car and muscled it onto the screened-in porch. Before leaving, Dad would have gotten the tree stand out of the basement and had it ready for the next step. With a freshly cut tree, a month removed from Christmas, the trick is keeping it alive and not allowing it to start dropping its needles en masse. How to alleviate that is fairly simple. Keep it watered!

Our tree stand had a trough, and Dad would have a rubber mallet, laying the tree on it’s side, he’d hammer the spikes in the bottom of the stand into the base, and then stand it up, screwing in the bolts on the sides to keep it upright. After standing it up on the porch, Mom would bring the pot of boiling water, and pour it into the stand, shocking the tree, and getting to drink heartily. Adding water every few days kept it alive and kicking. Granted the water would eventually freeze, but adding more hot water would break the ice, and replenish the tree. This worked like a charm and we rarely had an issue with a dry tree. Too, this negated the obvious fire hazard of having a dying, dried out tree inside the house.

Hopefully by then it would have snowed a few times, and there would inevitably be furrows of trails through the white stuff on all sides of the house. Many many memories of the winter at the old house. I do wish we could have kept it, but others are in some ways enjoying our old homestead. I do miss it.