Through the years
We all will be together,
If the Fates allow.
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough,
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
(Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Ralph Blane & Hugh Martin: 1943)
We decorated and lit our Christmas tree this weekend and filled the living room, kitchen, and family room with seasonal smells, ornaments, and keepsakes. It’s an annual, 24-hour makeover of the house, in which we lug in our traditional Christmas stuff from the garage, where it had been stored in plastic cartons all year, and cart out our regular household things, which have been replaced. But this year was different, because Toñito wasn’t there to string the Christmas lights on the tree, ridicule his sister’s choices and placement of ornaments, or sing along with the Christmas carols we played in the background. Prisa was there to help, with her husband Joe, and their 4 week-old baby, Sarah Kathleen, but not her older brother. His absence in the Christmas tree ritual was a jarring experience. I can’t recall an Advent season in which both Toñito and Prisa were not involved in some key aspects of the tree. Since their earliest years, they have always played some role in the Christmas drama that began with the selection of the tree, and culminated with the placement of the angel on top. For me, both children were forever fused in our Christmas tree traditions. By the time Toñito was old enough to appreciate the magical lights, smells, and sights of Christmas, his sister Prisa was old enough to share them. My earliest scene of buying a family Christmas tree is with me, holding Toñito’s hand, and Kathy pushing Prisa in her stroller, as we explored the Christmas tree lot at Devonshire Downs.
Devonshire Downs no longer exists today, but in the mid 1980’s, it was an old-fashioned, rural fairground and horse racetrack, located just north of the campus of California State University at Northridge (CSUN). It was home to the summertime San Fernando Valley Fair, and in the winter served as an open-air holiday market and craft fair, where one could buy Christmas trees, ornaments, decorations, toys, and other seasonal knick-knacks. It was there that Frosty, Toñito Godmother, sold her handmade stepstools, and where we brought our ceramic dip and chip platter from the daughter of his pre-school teacher. During the day, there were always animals to ride or pet, and Santa Claus to visit. Toñito’s eyes would gleam in wide-eyed wonder as we walked between the trees, through the exhibit halls, and along the craft booths. In his high-pitched, child-like voice, he peppered us with questions and speculations. What were those trees called? Why hadn’t Santa brought along elves or more helpers? How tall should our tree be, and how much could he help decorate this year? Prisa would sit in her stroller silently listening to the exchanges and soaking in the sights and smells of the grounds. We always used the same criteria in judging a tree - freshness, height, fullness, and cost - but I never knew from year to year what the deciding factor was. I would stand a tree up and turn it, while Kathy, Toñito, and Prisa studied it from every perspective. Prisa would eye it, while turning her head from side to side. Toñito would note its positive and negative attributes, and Kathy would judge it in silence. Somehow, we always made a selection and purchased a tree. From that moment on, Toñito seemed to bounce up and down with enthusiasm, like a popcorn kernel dancing and hopping in the excitement of a heated skillet.
In those days, the trees had to fit in the smaller confines of our Reseda home, so when mounted in a metal stand they were never over 6 feet tall. However, through the reflected wonder of our children’s eyes, the tree seemed as tall as its Rockefeller Center cousin. With Prisa as our excited audience, I instructed Toñito on the step-by-step process of testing and replacing the tree lights, stringing them on the tree, and evaluating them for evenness and balance. Kathy directed the placement of garland, ornaments, candy canes, and on various occasions, icicle tinsel. As soon as Prisa was old enough to firmly hold the decorative ornaments, Kathy would lift her to a specific branch so that her daughter could hang them herself. The process was halted at various times to change the Christmas record albums, admire our handiwork, and evaluate our progress. Toñito had the job of placing the tree-topping angel on the upper-most branch, until Prisa was old enough to inherit the position. He never begrudged the displacement, agreeing with child-like wisdom, that the baby of the family should always handle and place the Christmas angel.
Toñito’s delight, and mine, was in seeing the sparkle and twinkling of colored lights in the evening, and their reflection off the tinsel and garland. I discovered that we also shared the same fascination with unusual bulbs, when I found him alone one night, privately gazing at the tree we had finished decorating. He was watching the start and the steady percolating of the lone remaining, candle-shaped, bubbling Christmas light. It was the last of a set of 6 Kathy and I had purchased for our first Christmas tree after we wed. Replacements were no longer available, so as each one broke, or stopped bubbling, they were simply thrown away.
“I love watching it bubble, Daddy,” Toñito said to me, innocently, not embarrassed at being caught staring at a solitary light. “When this one stops working,” he continued, returning his gaze to the object of his fascination, “my baby Christmases will be over.”
I had no reply to this plaintive note of intuitive knowledge, so I just sat next to my little boy and joined in the watching of the last light.
Toñito told us that social commitments with friends prevented him from joining us last weekend when we decorated the house and tree, but that was only half of the story. I think he was reluctant to participate in a family Christmas tradition that had grown to include his fiancé Jonaya, because it reminded him of her absence. About two months ago he and Jonaya ended their 4-year engagement. They had been going through a difficult period of adjustment and reassessment, and it culminated in this final and irrevocable decision. Ending a committed engagement and love affair is a personal and emotional catastrophe I can’t even imagine. Kathy and I could only express our love, support, and availability to Toñito, and encouraged him to stay connected to friends and family, and to be active and social. We were relieved to hear that he was taking our advice with friends, but saddened that associations with family traditions caused him pain. The benefit of rituals such as Christmas decorating is in their repetitive actions, which help recall their original meanings and emotional significance. Kathy, Prisa, and I could not be sad too long about Toñito’s absence, with Joe’s enthusiastic ornament placement and Sarah’s observance of her first Christmas rite.
During a break, Kathy and I expressed the hope that Toñito and Jonaya’s pain would ease with time, and that they would eventually see how much they grew from their experiences together. When I shared this sentiment to Prisa, she scolded me.
“You’re being mighty generous, Dad,” she said, fiercely. “I’ll settle for my big brother feeling better and coming back for Christmas. As annoying as he can be, it’s not the same without him.”
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dedalus_1947
no subject
Date: 2010-12-18 07:21 am (UTC)TRH
no subject
Date: 2010-12-18 11:27 am (UTC)PKO