Memories of a Christmas Past

by Lauraine Alberetti Lombara

     The Christmas tree was a quintessential Charlie Brown twig tree. My Papa tried hard to find one big enough to fit in the corner of our small living room, but not so full or nicely shaped that it would command a high price. At the time, I’m sure I was upset, but with all the good-natured joking by my older brothers and their heroic attempts to glorify the tree; trimming scraggly ends, drilling holes in the stem to add extra branches and finally setting the stand so the bare back was facing the corner walls, I was soon laughing along with them.

     I was very impressed with “the miracle”--turning the small bare tree into a glowing beacon, festooned with lights, ornaments, tinsel and a beatific angel perched on the spindly top. The magic of this transformation filled me with warmth and joy as I helped set up the Creche with all the figures, save the Baby Jesus-only placed after midnight Christmas Eve- and put out our few other simple decorations-lights in the windows and a few past year Christmas cards sent from Italy.

     Mama took me to downtown Boston to visit Santa, at Jordan Marsh, for my yearly photo sitting on his lap as I shyly told him my gift wishes. I wore my “best’ tan coat with a brown velvet collar and cuffs and matching jodhpurs, a brown felt, brimmed hat which tied under my chin with earmuffs, to protect my ears from bitter cold or leave folded under the hat if not necessary and good brown shoes or boots, if it was wet or snowy. An added treat was the spectacular Christmas displays in the store windows, especially Jordan Marsh’s Enchanted Village. The diorama of adults and children dressed in the fashion of the late 1800’s-early 1900’s in various home, store, and outdoor venues in winter and Christmastime was a delight for all ages. Not yet tired, we walked to R.H.White’s, Kennedy’s, Gilchrist’s and Filene’s to see their beautifully decorated windows 

    Chilled, hungry and a bit weary, but still excited, we walked around the corner to Coldstone’s, across the street from the rear of Filene’s. This was originally an automat which eventually became a cafeteria-type eatery. It was handy, inexpensive and always filled with shoppers, entering with their Filene’s Basement bags, bulging with bargains. We enjoyed a delicious lunch, got warm and rested and then we were off to see the historic Boston Common in its winter finery.

     We walked up Winter Street-so apropos of the season, looking toward the golden dome of the State House sitting majestically on Beacon Hill, surrounded by the stately, famous Boston brownstones. Many of the trees in the Common were covered with Christmas lights, as were a few small holiday displays and a Nativity Scene, all glowing in the early-arriving twilight. The masterpiece, the center of our attention now, was the enormous, towering Christmas tree; an annual gift of a grateful Nova Scotia to the City of Boston, in appreciation of their help during the Halifax Explosion and fire on December 6, 1917. The lights were blazing on the branches as if to say thank you, as a crowd of shoppers, workers on their way home and others stopped and stared-all eager to look with pride and joy at this glorious scene-it could have been a canvas painted by our own Boston artist, Childe Hassam.

     As we stood in front of the Park Street Station entrance, before heading home on the MTA, we would put all our change in the Salvation Army pot, all the while being serenaded by the uniformed Army chorus singing lovely carols. As I sat next to my dear Mama, a box of the eponymous Jordan Marsh Blueberry Muffins on my lap, I was one tired, but very happy child, even before Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and the Feast of the Epiphany had arrived.