The Elderly Elf...and a few more memories regarding the tree.

 Isn't he cute?  This is the real thing from back in the 60s.  I regret greatly that when my mother stored her Christmas decorations back in the day she used cardboard.  I am not sure how many of these she had originally, but rats in the attic of our storage building destroyed all but the two elves that I now have. At the moment for some reason my Google picture account from my phone isn't jiving with the laptop to show the other elf.  He is solid red.

I should write a story about the elderly elf and his survival in the attic.  Haha...  If I were to make it true to life it would, unfortunately, be a horror story.  Imagine watching all your friends being made into rat's nests.  Ugh!

At the very least I am glad Ellen has been able to enjoy them and has this small Christmas connection to her maternal grandmother.  

To continue on with Christmas memories though...  Fetching and decorating the Christmas tree is my prevailing memory of all of my Christmases growing up.  Honestly, the tree and the smells of Christmas dinner cooking are the most prevalent holiday memories I have.  The tree is the one consistent thing we did every year so I will stick with that memory for the time being. I do remember when I got up older, in my upper teens maybe, there was a year or two we didn't get a tree.  That was when my father wasn't feeling up to it.  I vaguely remember we did get a small tree that fit on the desk in the front room.  That tree was probably the top of a scrub tree from the back of our property.  Since we had a very small house, the tree on the desk saved room.  My mom was never into having a tree at all, really.  I think the only reason she consented was for the children's sake and when we grew up past childhood, she was over it.  She was the type who wanted the least fuss, muss, and effort as possible.  

Every year I remember the fight to get the tree into the stand, to get it straight, and then the next fight to get the Christmas lights on it.  I honestly forget if they were all white, or if they had colored bulbs.  I sort of remember different colors.  But I remember checking to see if there were any bulbs burnt out, replacing them and listening to my father fret the whole time the tree was up about being very careful to not burn the house down with the bulbs.  So positioning the bulbs just right to where they weren't up against the branches or needles of the tree was of the utmost importance.  And, needless to say, the lights weren't plugged in very often.  I am very thankful for the pre-lit Christmas tree we have now.  

The tree was the only actual Christmas decoration we put up.  We had bookshelves, and might have put out a candle or two, but Mom had no other holiday knickknacks that she would put out; no wreaths on the door, nor anything along those lines.  I remember when I was maybe 12 or 13 a lady my mom had been helping care for passed away and we "inherited," as it were, a box of Christmas decorations.  I was enchanted with it, never having had anything of the sort.  In all actuality they were all made of the cheapest, dingiest plastic; mostly they were just cheap plastic-beaded garlands, along with one garland of particularly smelly plastic; fake round clumps of mistletoe on a cheap plastic chain.  My mom, of course, wanted little to do with the crap and encouraged me to give it all to my sister who, at the time, was setting up her own little rented house.  I think I reluctantly gave her some, but kept a couple of the beaded garlands for myself, most especially the mistletoe monstrosity.  Hahaha...

In reflecting back on this, Christmas was the only time of year anything bright or cheery came into our dingy, dirty little house, and I wanted to hang on to whatever decorations came my way.  Not that we lived a life of gloom or doom or anything dismal like that.  We were a happy, contented family.  Both my mom and dad were friendly, loving, and welcoming.  But both came from backgrounds where decoration was seen as excess.  My father, born in 1922, grew up poor during the Great Depression.  My mom was born in 1929 on a farm in Georgia, then her family moved to Southern California where her parents worked in migrant camps in the agricultural areas down there for several years.  I am sure decorations of any kind for either of my parents were seen as needless extravagance.  My mother was not an enthusiastic homemaker, so there was no provision for any sort of holiday decorations for any time of the year.  I have followed in their footsteps to a certain degree.  But that is for another blog post.  

In getting back to the Christmas tree; I think the elves, and the glass ornaments that my mom did have, were her nod to ornamentation that she hadn't had as a child.  But anything else was too much fuss, and she didn't want to mess with it.