'Tis some kinda' season...

I am so easy - utterly and cheaply charmed by twinkly lights. So though the beginning of December predictably marks the start of my whiney attempts to weasel out of having a tree, and testing my daughter to see if she’s ready for me to forego the ritual …. Alas, she is not, and I surrender. I long ago abandoned the care I used to take in stringing the lights. Now I toss them on like I’m flinging a frisbee, but as soon as I plug them in, I’m in full swoon. And I remain that way for the holiday season. 

As with trying to photograph the moon rising over the mountains, every year I try to capture the tree’s warm twinkly beauty and every year the result is wanting. Above is last year’s attempt. It features the very first ornament I gave Julia when she was wee, picked up somewhere at the end of a tour on my way home, and the start of a tradition. When she has her own tree she will have decades of beautiful ornaments each with a story (if only I could remember them) and I will prop up a Charlie Brown shrub from the woods and toss on a garland of popcorn. 

As predictable as my swooning at the lighting of the tree is the abrupt end to my holiday spirit and suddenly the tree must… go… now! Hmm…not unlike a few a few past relationships!

We are such creatures of traditions and rituals, and none so imprinted as Christmas. It begins in our childhood and expands over the years, like the size of our families and numbers of ways to make potatoes. And I’m not so starry eyed as to be unaware that this holiday is not a rosy warm fuzzy memory for all. Some of you might feel that a solitary travel-free Christmas is the best possible holiday!

Here are shots from my first Christmas taken by our Dad and developed in the darkroom he had in the laundry room/pantry. My siblings are doing their best to put on a happy face, but below is a bit more revealing image of what they likely felt about this new interloper they were being forced to pose with. 

We would come to have just 9 more Christmases with our father, and in another 9 I would be on my way to Canada. Funny… I have a clear memory of my favourite ornaments, like the miniature bird cages with the foil pinwheels, suspended over lights so the heat would make them spin. So why can I still remember that and not where I put my keys??

I know, I’m skirting the Big Subject. We are all adjusting to having to veer from our familiar rituals and traditions of gathering with our families. It’s unprecedented like everything else over the past 10 months. We hate change; we never grow out of being cranky when we’re told what we can and can’t do; and we’re worn down. Then there’s the patriotism-infused tantrums about personal liberty. We’re just not that good at any of this. No one under 80 has had to do this before. The whole range of “it’s for your own good” to “it’s for the greater good” is challenging for us to grasp. We want what we want. Short term deprivation for long term gain is not easy for us. If it were, I’d be thinner. 

But hey, perspective is everything. Yes, it’s a challenging reality but the compromises pale against the dire impact of the virus if we get sloppy about it. Comparative minor inconveniences. So this year will be different - let’s roll with it! I know we’re all Zoomed out but…. The fact that we can still gather in that way is miraculous and a viable replacement for this one year. You can still watch your grandchildren open their presents. You can still have breakfast with your parents. Adaptation and good will towards men (and women).

So my friend…here’s to a much easier, saner 2021. And I suggest putting “Of course!…” in front of anything you might be feeling these days. Be kind to yourself, your loved ones, and to strangers. Oh, the list of advice could go on from Ms. Cheerleader here…I’ve taken enough of our time!

Sending lots of love your way…and keep in touch. I’m curious what you and your family are planning and pondering as this year closes. 

Comfort and Joy,

Shari