The holidays are times that generate reflections of the past. I have decided to write several posts and toast to childhood memories.
When I was twelve we had just moved into a new bigger house and it was our first Christmas there. My father was the decorator and he went all out with the holiday lights. We had spotlights, large candles and a perfectly shaped blue spruce. No fake trees in our house. Of course the fake trees in those days were white aluminum with a rotating colored strobe light shining. UGH. I remember feeling sorry for a few friends who had them. My mother bought dozens of large blue bulbs with white holiday scenes engraved on each. We marveled because we had never seen anything like them before.
Christmas morning arrived and we ripped opened our gifts. My dad would always light the fireplace and use the wrappings to help start the fire. I decided to do this on my own and put all the paper in the fireplace. I lit it but alas, I did not open the flue. The room and house filled with smoke. My mom ran around screaming like a bangee.
My first response was to run into the kitchen and get the broom. I came back in and used the handle to open the flue and all was well. My dad affirmed me over and over because I had stayed calm. Even though I had made a mistake, I was happy with myself for saving the day. I was off the hook; mom was in the doghouse with dad because she lost it.
My pride was short lived (about ten minutes) because I stood too close to the tree for a photo and my bathrobe caught on an ornament. Unaware, when I started across the room that most carefully decorated tree followed me and fell and broke every NEW expensive ornament my mom had just bought for the new house.
OOPS… “Tis the season to be Jolly”