Cards and Trees

I love Christmas and the many traditions surrounding this season. Cognizant that, for many, the stretch from Thanksgiving through New Year’s is a time of stress and challenge, I am consciously grateful for a history and experiences that allow me to embrace this time. I am also painfully aware of those families who lost so much in recent California fires.

Christmas in the Glass household officially begins on December 1st (never before) with the rediscovery of music collected over the years and the unpacking of Spode Christmas china, first gifted to us as newlyweds by a wonderful aunt. Both collections have grown steadily over the years. The former reflects diverse tastes and some humor; the latter now includes unique pieces that are an extension of a generous basic set. In Jackson Hole for this particular Christmas, I elected not to pack the china. Blessings on the daughters of the aforementioned aunt who bequeathed us a set of demitasse cups. We are not completely Spode-less (there must be a pun lurking their somewhere, but I can’t think of it). As for music, thanks to Spotify and Pandora, I have been able to create an ever-increasing play list (now numbering over 250 songs) without carting or changing a single CD. I start with John Denver and The Muppets and move, in no particular order, to Barbra Streisand, Home Free, Pentatonix, Elvis, Mannheim Steamroller, Celtic Harp, King Singer’s, Anne Murray, Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams and his brothers… Come January 1st, I will have had my fill, but for the month of December, sweet Christmas music evokes precious memories (when Hillary and Allison were much younger, singing Streisand’s “Jingle Bells” with no accompaniment as we drove up River Rd, the sound system in our VW Beatle not working) and embraces new experiences. Music of and from the heart.

For many, paper Christmas cards have become a thing of the past. I appreciate that we are not being as environmentally sound as we could (perhaps should) be, but I am not yet ready to relinquish the tradition that was such an important part of my family history and has been the same for Wayne and me. The one year we decided not to send cards — for reasons I cannot recall — several people confessed later that they figured we must have been getting a divorce. Don’t want to risk that again! 

From the time I was a babe-in-arms, my family always sent photo cards. Mom and Dad kept an album devoted just to those family cards. I wish we had done the same. Instead, sometimes I encounter a random year’s photo and am re-amazed at what scene and feeling each picture captured. We send and receive cards from folks who span a shared lifetime, starting with those with whom we shared childhood, moving to high school and college, then to employers, colleagues, and employees. It’s safe to say there are people with whom we exchange annual missives that I haven’t seen in fifty years. However, I recognize their addresses and handwriting before I even open the envelope, and I have a sense of who their children (and now grandchildren) are, and what they are doing. These connections are part of my life’s blood. I value remembering and appreciate being remembered

All that said, I do not love the fact that I just had to reconstruct my entire Christmas card address list (250),which was inadvertently erased as I was trying to update one card. Argh. However, the problem arose after cards had been sent, and technology, culprit at the outset, was my savior. Years ago had I lost my green leather address book, it would have been all over.

Teacher Christmas trees are a species unto themselves, adorned as they are with countless ornaments provided by students and families over the years. In my family, as I am sure is true of other educators’, there are particularly beloved ornaments and decorations without which Christmas just wouldn’t seem like Christmas. Large or small, with identifying tags still attached or not, the small and shining faces of those gift-giving students endure through years and across many moves. 

The first ornament on the Glass family tree is The Pink Pig, given to me by Teddy Fonseca, a round cherub of a child in our JK and K classes at Colorado Academy. My understanding is that, sadly, Teddy passed away as a young adult. His gift has been cherished for over 40 years. It survived intact until our tree fell over in the middle of the night last year and crushed it and one other ornament. Fortunately, I had pictures of The Pig, one of which I printed and laminated and, thus, remains the first ornament to be hung (and is now unbreakable). Two friends found and gave me pink pig ornaments of their own last year, special and meaningful gestures that are worthy of the original Pink Pig. Their generosity suggests how special and meaningful gifts can be, and how the things that we treasure are often small and unexpected. 

My hope is that, whoever you are and whatever you celebrate, you have occasion to reflect on people in your past who somehow remain a part of your present. I hope there is music that fills your heart with  joy and traditions that steady your Life’s journey. I hope that you have associations with young children that brighten your days, even if those “children” are now grandparents themselves.

Author: Glass

I retired in July after forty-six years in independent school education. I taught students in classes from PreK-12, was a middle school head for many years, and a head of school for 17. View all posts by Glass