Ornaments

by Beth Alexander Walsh

     A debate started in our house around seven years ago about replacing our real Christmas tree with a fake one. For years we had purchased our tree from our church to benefit the parish school. As our children got older we then drove to Boxford to wander the lot with a saw in hand, cutting down the fir with the best shape. Truthfully, the debate started with me, as I was the person untangling lights, decorating, watering and cleaning up the needles. I also noticed that my allergies acted up with a real tree in the house, but my family thought my use of an inhaler was a small price to pay for that crisp pine smell. The debate finally ended one November, when I dragged a fake 7.5 foot Fraser Fir with the lights already attached into our garage, along with a promise to my family that I would light a pine scented candle. After the first two Christmases of complaints, my family finally agreed the tree was just as beautiful as any we had cut down, and that it was what we put on our tree that made it special.

     Our boxes of ornaments carry the most meaning out of any of the extensive inventory of decorations, and I have shed a tear more than once upon finding the remnants of an ornament that did not make it through a year of storage. Each treasure in those boxes tells a story.
    There are the ornaments from my father's childhood tree. Delicate thin glass in the shape of bells and icicles, large and small spheres of different colors cast a glow against the white lights. They conjure up my father's stories of trees lit with candles, and volunteer guards with sand at the ready in case of fire. There are the satin balls of the first year we were married and still constructing our house, unable to afford much more than the cost of the tree, lights and tinsel. There are the homemade ornaments; some I have made as a child and some I have made with my own children, provoking memories of rainy fall days when there was nothing to do. Also garnishing our tree, are the wide assortment of travel keepsakes from Mexico to Maine, and all the places in between, all casting warm images of beaches, amusement and national parks. Some are baubles that represent a moment in time; baby's first Christmas, a new pet added to the family, and the 2004 Red Sox World Series win. Others are gifts from friends, relatives and neighbors etched with the year they were given or notations written with marker. A glass cigar, guitar and little rock climbing and fishing Santas are contributions from my husband. Our vast collection comes in every shape and size and are made from glass and wood, plastic and plaster, yarn and felt.

     The tree is always the last of our household decorating allowing the time and reverence for the perfect placement of each object, while anointing each branch with a memory.