A Couple Christmas Schemes from One Wise Woman

Published in the Idaho State Journal on Dec 26, 2018.

During a scant block of solitude this week, I put on a Pandora Christmas station, added a dash of eggnog to my coffee and settled in to wrap presents for the kids. I wrap like a kindergartner –with more jagged crumples than smooth creases and so much excitement I don’t imagine the recipient will notice the botched Scotch tape. Wrapping presents becomes a meditative exercise and as I find my Zen, I find myself recalling bits of Christmases past.

My mom did a magnificent job making Christmas magical when I was a kid. A couple of her specific schemes come to mind. 

Our tree topper was a plastic Tinkerbell-inspired angel in a crushed red velvet dress with gold cardboard wings. Her jeweled shoes were highlighted with a spritz of tinsel. Her name was Angel. When I was really little, Mom convinced me that Angel was barely hanging on atop the tree, and I needed to keep an eye on her so she didn’t fall. The most stoic moments of my life were at age three, sitting at the base of the tree amidst the colorful glow looking up and pleading, “Don’t fall, Angel. Don’t fall.” 

Who gets a three year old to be calm on Christmas Eve? And how? My mom was a wise woman.

My parents divorced when I was four, and although Christmas celebrations changed, Angel was a constant. When it was just Mom and me, it was clear who presents under the tree were for and from, but Mom added a touch of enchantment. She labeled the gift tags as though presents were from famous people or fictional characters. At first I received gifts from Mickey Mouse, Winnie the Pooh and Wonder Woman. As I got older and my interests and knowledge broadened, I’d see gifts from Eleanor Roosevelt, Robin Williams and Axl Rose.

Our Christmases never held extravagant or expensive gifts, so this element of wonder stayed with me. The creative labels brought more merriment and fantasy to the holiday, and it showed that Mom was tuned in to my expanding pursuits, that she knew me. Sometimes as much thought went into the labels as it did the gifts. Often, she’d give me hints. I got a Crayola Caddy from Vincent Van Gogh and a Walkman cassette player was a joint gift from Cindi Lauper and George Michael.  And I always got something from Angel.

I do this with the kids today. It’s fun to see them look for the gift tags rather than simply counting the presents or gauging their sizes and contents. The labels introduce a Christmas connection.  This year, they’re getting chocolates from Willy Wonka, a science experiment from Albert Einstein, and the oldest, who’s interested in law school, has gifts from Michelle Obama and Ruth Bader Ginsberg.  Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Nikola Tesla and Abe Lincoln are also among this year’s gift-givers at our house.

The kids are too old to be tricked into tranquility over a tree topper four times their age, but after their mom and I got married and I explained the history of Angel, they welcomed this bit of my personal history into our family’s blend of holiday traditions. But sadly, there will be no presents from Angel this year.

During a decoration cleanup, our golden doodle Wiley Wayne chewed her beyond repair. I was devastated. As I was examining the depth of my disappointment, I was able to put it in context. My mom died a month after my 28^th Christmas, and Angel made it to my 44^th.  My tree topper spent more Christmases with me than my mother.

Hard to be mad at that face, but...

Just sadness

My wife’s heroic googling prowess found a tree topper on EBay almost identical to Angel. It was still in the vintage 1970’s box. She was afraid to give it to me and worried how I’d react. She knew that Angel couldn’t be replaced. Yet when I recall those still flashes of my childhood, the new tree topper’s wings were as shiny and her cheeks, as rosy as Angel’s when I first met her.  

We named the new tree topper Rosie because of those cheeks and in honor of Mom’s love of Rosie the Riveter and her “We Can Do It” motto.  Rosie’s dress is a deep gold where Angel’s was red, so this helps make Rosie uniquely ours.

As our family’s holiday traditions continue to mesh and evolve, Rosie is something, or rather, someone we have together.  I wonder what she will get everyone for Christmas this year.  

Rosie