Vocal Point : Tree ornaments bring up memories of Christmases past

We start our Christmas celebration a day or two before the Thanksgiving bird lands on the dinner table.

Emptied boxes of multicolored lights and other hardy electrical gadgets clutter the basement as we put together our seasonal show. Tradition dictates we light up this display shortly after we’ve completed our Thanksgiving feast.

About the time the turkey’s carcass lands in the crockpot, the lady of the house turns on her pre-Christmas afterburner. Cherished, hand-painted, ceramics appear on fireplace mantels. No table, countertop or dresser is left unadorned.

The oven works overtime, spewing forth an endless array of cookies, pies and other favored holiday delicacies. We have no need for scented candles.

While I play a major role in assembling the outside decorations and am always ready when the oven door swings open, my Christmas season really begins when the living room is illuminated by the tree’s lights.

How many times have you sneaked out of your warm, comfortable bed well before sunrise and carefully closed all the bedroom doors adjoining the tree room in an attempt to secure a few private, soothing, illuminated moments before your family’s Christmas tree?

If your response to the query is, “This guy’s a real oddball!” I’ll take it! There are other, more challenging sobriquets out there.

But if, on the other hand, you put the paper down, walk to your “tree room,” turn on the tree’s lights, and melt into your easy chair with a contented sigh, you’ll know you have a soul mate out there.

I’d barely settled into my “tree position” during the 2005 Christmas season when a little face peeped around the room’s archway. I’m always amazed at how rapidly a sleepy-eyed child hauling a blanket, teddy bear and sippy cup can move across the room and assume his/her “cuddle position” in Grandpa’s lap.

After we’d snuggled a bit, Brady turned and asked: “What are you doing, Grandpa?”

I responded: “I’m just visiting with some old friends!”

The child looked at the tree, pondered that statement, and said: “I don’t see anyone over there!”

Lifting him gently from my lap, I took Brady’s hand, walked to the tree, and pointed to a well worn, nondescript ornament, an artifact from another era. Beneath its metal hanger, one can see Santa’s face and a red body made of netting, connected to a small cardboard bowl that is covered with imitation hay.

The whole ornament is less than 6 inches long. The bowl and netting originally were filled with candy.

It was my brother’s first Christmas stocking and has been displayed on our family’s tree since 1930.

After digesting this data and comparing the ornament to the stockings hanging on the mantel, Brady commented, “He sure didn’t get much candy, did he?”

Fighting for the right words, I explained the ornaments and lights found on our “Christmas tree are a historical collection. You see, the tree assures me that “I’m home for the holidays.”

We ended our tour of the tree with a brief stop by the manger scene. I let Brady describe what he saw there.

As the little guy talked about a “cold night” and of the little baby wrapped in rags, my mind raced through 69 Christmas seasons/celebrations.

You know what? I’ve had it all.