Suddenly, it is Christmas. Daughter Abbie while home from graduate school took charge of decorating the tree with the ornaments we have acquired over the years. While our house is usually filled with Christmas décor this time of year, this is the first time we have had a tree in years. It’s a beautiful, cheerful tree.
She has a true gift for decorating, whether it is a balloon arch for a 16-year-old’s birthday party or a Christmas tree. Abbie is a doctoral student in information technology and plans to enter the academic world. If that doesn’t work out, I am convinced she could be a professional party decorator.
There is a new addition to the critter collection, a granddog named Teddy. Teddy is a Havanese and Maltese mix — a Havamalt, which sounds like a soda fountain soda drink, to those old enough to remember those largely extinct counters in drug stores.
Teddy is ridiculously cute, a bundle of energy who loves to visit and hang out with Mollie, our Maltese, and Gatsby, our rescue cavapoo who is now officially a therapy dog. Tater the Blubba Nugget cat tolerates Teddy, while Olive the Kitty hides in my wife’s closet when Teddy is around. We’re going to work on that relationship in the New Year.
Tater has taken to sleeping under the Christmas tree. No doubt he will be miffed when it comes time to take it down. Olive jumps up into my desk chair anytime I vacate it, while Mollie is fond of perching on top of the couch, where she can gaze out the picture window and keep an eye on Pancho the Donkey down the hill in his pasture.
Speaking of Pancho, at 25 he is still going strong, galloping to the fence for his daily treats of carrots, shredded wheat, apple slices and overripe bananas. He is blind in his left eye but compensates quite well. He is a fixture here at Three Geese Farm. He will get a special treat for Christmas.
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My favorite Christmas decoration is a ceramic crèche that belonged to my parents. It is at least 60 years old, some of the figures chipped in places. There is a hole in the roof in which a Christmas bulb can be inserted, which my mother always did. I prefer to leave it unlighted, reasoning the actual manger didn’t have electricity. The entire crèche is only 10 inches wide. Baby Jesus is about the size of a pecan. It sits in my study where I can admire it and remember the many Christmases spent with family and children.
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It has become a tradition of mine to tell this story each Christmas. My earliest memory of Christmas is from 1959 or 1960. I can’t be sure if I was four or five years old. We always spent Christmas Eve at my maternal grandparents’ house outside of Concord, N.H. a tiny house crowded with cousins on that night. I was lying in my grandparents’ bed, looking out the windows, which were narrow and near the ceiling, so you could see the stars.
I saw Santa Claus streaking across the sky and realized I had better get to sleep, or the old man might skip this house. My cousins would really be upset with me.
Sure enough, in front of the fireplace the next morning were gifts from St. Nicklaus. The plate of cookies held only crumbs, and the carrots for the reindeer were gone.
I know. Probably it was an airplane headed to Boston, or perhaps a meteor shower. I prefer to believe it was Santa. Certainly that’s what I thought back then.
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I hope your Christmas is filled with family and friends, that you will take time to reflect on the true meaning of this season, perhaps do an act of kindness for a stranger, or possibly accept a kindness from one.
Merry Christmas and God Bless.