O Tannenbaum

We love our Christmas tree. Both Doug and I can stare at it for hours. Not only is it pretty, it's full of meaning. Most of the ornaments tell stories, are a part of our history. There's the Surfing Santa, which we got when we went to Hawaii. And the Disney ornaments from our trip there. The ornament from Mark Twain's house in Connecticut and the Santa from Kansas City. Speaking of Kansas City, there is a KC Chiefs ornament, an Arkansas Razorbacks ornament and, of course, a football Santa ornament. There are the ornaments Auntie M gave us, the one Gary & Tom gave us and the one Cindy & Greg gave us. Our tree might not make Decorator's Quarterly, but it is full of love.

Actually, at least during Christmas time, the house is decorated with love and stories. From the myriad of International Santas to the pine nativity scene that was my grandfather's, our Christmas decorations are our family history.

It's funny, but when I remember the Christmases growing up, I remember the traditions and the decorations. I had this green felt stocking with a little girl on it. I wish I knew where it was so I could hang it today. I remember playing with baby Jesus in our manger scene and mom's band of angels. I remember the elves my grandmother made. But it wasn't limited to our house. I would go to Mrs. Goolsby's house and was fascinated with her Nutcracker and this wooden tower that turned when lit by candles. I'm still surprised we don't have any of those, but the ones at the stores look cheap -- not the craftsmanship of what I remember.

We hate to think of our parents passing and I know it will be years. But I do hope mom will leave her Christmas decorations to me. That way I can look at the Santa she made in grade school as it hangs on my tree and remember how mom also liked to have the traditions of Christmas and the tree.