I found this draft of a post from two years ago, which for some reason I never published. Since ’tis the season once again, I may as well show it to you belatedly. Back then, I wrote:
Today I received a small box of familiar Christmas ornaments, topped with this hand-penned explanation from my skilled and wee mommy:
By Way of Explaining the Contents of This Package
That annual tradition—
The choosing of “The Tree,”
With freezing toes and fingers
And sibs, who disagree:“The one’s too tall and skinny.”
“This one’s too short and fat.”
But—finally—agreement!
“That’s perfect—We’ll take that.”Then—haul it, hoist it, rope it,
‘Til on the car it’s tied.
Drive home, reverse the process—
And prop it up, outside.As Christmas day approaches,
Assemble all the gear—
The lights, the balls, the tinsel—
The eggnog, wine and beer.Bring in the tree—and struggle
to “snug” it, in its stand.
[“It’s falling over—watch it!—
Oops!—Did it squash your hand?”]Bedecked, it is terrific—
Pine-scented, glittering, gay.
But—all too soon—it’s over.
Too soon comes Boxing Day.Lug all, back to the attic
And cease your caroling.
Out with the tree—[and needles—
You’ll find them, still, come spring!]“¢ “¢ “¢ “¢ “¢
Now—well into my 80s,
It’s lost its charm for me.
My helper, Ed, rejoiced to hear:
“That’s my last Christmas tree!”
And on that note, I have a quandary this year. My income is very limited with my current job, and a Christmas tree is a pricey item. Even a small one runs about $90 here in the city. I wrote to Eleni and Molly to ask if they minded if I didn’t get one this year. Eleni allowed as it was an essential Allison tradition that should be maintained, and offered to share the expense. So I’ll dig out those decorations, and try not to get squashed by the tree as I put it up. There’s a place a few blocks from here that sells trees that smell good and piney from a block away, so I think I’ll go there.
I got a call today from the detective in Jackson, Wyoming who is handling the Bill Bricker case. Apparently his lawyer is trying to stall for time until he has a chance to die first, so he won’t have to face his past. There’s been another delay in the extradition. Now they want to take two months to determine his mental competency to stand trial. According to today’s story in the Chicago Tribune, proof of competency consists of determining whether or not he knows his name and knows that he spent time in Wyoming. Why it takes so long to establish that is beyond me.
I was just skimming a book (Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking, recommended by Eleni). Exactly at the moment I read the words, “In the midst of life we are in death, Episcopalians say at the graveside,” my Episcopalian late-father’s voice came onto my computer singing No Wood Fire. Life is funny sometimes.