One Small Tree

Silent Night ... Holy Night ...

 



Christmas Florida Style

Good evening, Readers!!  It's Christmastime!  All you have to do is walk outside and you know that it's here!  I am a sentimental old sap and love thinking about Christmas holidays past, present, and future!


Grandmother
Maggie

Last August, I had the opportunity to get together with many of my cousins from my father's side of the family to honor my Aunt Helen.  It was a wonderful time of remembering our common heritage.  My grandfather, Carl, passed away as a rather young man so the focus of many a conversation was my Grandmother Maggie.  Even though she was a quiet little lady, her influence was strong...


As children, we tend to remember events as snapshots ... I think that I mix up some Christmas's remembering those bits and pieces as one when they were several.  I am grateful for those times and the warmth generated by my memories growing up in small town America.


My Father
Ernest Tilman

My father served in World War II and came home the Christmas of 1945.  Wow!  What a celebration that must have been.  I wish someone would have journaled about it because, I heard so often that he received quite a homecoming.  I was born in 1946 and the years following the war into the 1950's were especially festive.  After all, Ernest was home safe from the war!!  The movie, It's A Wonderful Life epitomized these years and is, to this day, my all time favorite movie!!


What was my Christmas like growing up in the 1940's and 1950's?  It was about family gatherings and parties, snow, smorgasbords, Norwegian delicacies, a nutcracker in my hands as a toddler, music, Christmas Eve candlelit services ... and, that one, small tree...

Kaldahl House
My Father's Birthplace

My earliest memory of Christmas was at my Great-Aunt Bessie's home.  My father was born in her house in January of 1917.  My grandmother, took me upstairs to show me the room and the bed where he came into this world.  There was a fire in the fireplace and the aroma of every kind of hot dish and Norwegian delicacies filled the air.  Oh, those wonderful meatballs.  Yum!  Bessie had an old nutcracker from Norway -- I clutched it in my fists thinking it was so beautiful.  I hid in a stairway, wishing I could take it home with me.  I have been blessed by my son with many wonderful nutcrackers from Germany and each time I unwrapped one, I recalled that Christmas so long ago...

Grandmother and her daughter, Alida, were busy throughout the year, knitting and crocheting gifts for family and friends.  They would check out the local fairs and duplicate the newest styles of mittens, scarves, potholders, and slippers.  Packages were wrapped in tissue paper held together with curled ribbon.  Each gift was carefully made in colors that they thought the recipient would like.  Sometimes, there was a swap of colors but we all received the same gift as children.  My mother and father received a hand crocheted tablecloth one Christmas that I am using now.  Each time I put it on the table, I smile wondering how many meals were served over that piece of cloth.  It's something, I can hold and feel the specialness.  Christmas was a time of bringing out the china, the nice silver and doing lots of laughing and hugging.


I remember my Uncle Lester bringing bags of groceries to my grandmother for Christmas and how her face lit up as she looked inside.  I wondered how someone could get so excited about a bag of food.  Uncle Lester had twinkly eyes and he looked a lot like my dad.  He seemed really tall to me but I don't think that's very accurate ... everyone seemed larger than life to me as a small child!


My grandmother had steps leading to the upstairs of her home.  As children, when we got bored, we would open one of the stairs where she kept comic books, toys, and baseball cards.  Her house was rather small and the noise level rather loud at Christmas.  There was my grandmother, her seven children and their spouses (except for Aunt Alida who was known as a spinster), a gazillion (it seemed that way) grandkids, and a multitude of my grandmother's family who lived in the area.  I'll bet Grandmother Maggie was glad when it was time for us all to head home and get ready for midnight church!

Church ... magnificent stained glass windows, music played on the organ, candles blazing at the altar, parishioners greeting one another with Merry Christmas...  The smell of evergreen filled the air as we gathered...  There were a lot of Norwegians at Glenwood Lutheran and we sang a carol in their native tongue --Jeg er sa glad hver julekveld.  Church and family ... the center of my Grandmother Maggie's life.  It was important, so very important.  Now, it is important to me too.

One Christmas in particular, there was a small tree placed on the table in the corner of my Grandmother's parlor.  It smelled so good ... I wanted to press my nose against the prickly branches but I'd been told not to touch.  The ornaments were very old and today I wonder what became of them.  I remember sitting on the davenport gazing into the tree, my little arms folded on the arm rest.  I thought about how beautiful it looked with the twinkling lights and ice cycles.  There weren't any presents under the tree and I hoped that Santa would visit Grandma and Alida because they were good to everyone all year.  My mother liked dressing me up ... my "frock" was made of taffeta and my mary jane shoes fit tightly on my feet.  My hair was dark brown and curled ... I felt like a pretty princess.  The room was so quiet but I know it wasn't ... I must have been in a world of my own, lost in the beauty of Christmas.


Thank you for walking down memory lane with me.  We all have those memories of small trees when the magic of Christmas completely filled us to the point of being aware of nothing else in this world.  I am so fortunate to have these snapshots in my heart for they give me a sense of serenity and well being.  I knew who I was, where I came from, and was surrounded by the love of all things Christmas.

Always remember you are loved and prayed for ... YA YOU!!

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb.
If I were a Wise Man
I would do my part.
Yet what can I give Him?
I give Him my heart.
--Christina Rossetti