2003-12-26
Christmas 2003
It wasn�t very long ago that I went to bed on Christmas Eve while the rest of my family sat at the dining room table cracking walnut shells just for the fun of it and debating the great issues of the world. As I placed my head on the pillowcase in my little bedroom with the blue and green flowered wallpaper, I looked out the window and wished for a glimpse of Santa Claus careening through the night sky.
December 24, 2003 was a very different kind of Christmas Eve for me. This is the first year I've spent the holidays away from my friends and family. It's the first holiday I've spent doing something I wanted to do, instead of what I was obligated to do.
Every year, I like to decorate my tree while listening to Christmas CDs, watching Christmas videos and simmering mulled spices on the stove. I love to gingerly unwrap each ornament from its cocoon of tissue paper and dangle it from just the right branch of the frequently crooked fragrant pine brushing against the ceiling of my sunroom. Though the setting changed, this year could be no different.
I insisted on going to Target to get a small tree, despite Tony's reluctance due to space issues. Bah. Humbug. "Look, Scrooge," I said, "we're getting a goddamn tree." How's that for Christmas spirit?
We drove into the parking lot at Target, while Tony repeated that we had to be crazy venturing out to go shopping on Christmas Eve. (However, he didn't blink an EYE about going to his favorite porn shop, Best Buy. I'm not complaining because I heart Best Buy, and because he found the Donny Osmond Christmas album for seven dollars for me. I'm listening to it right now. Stop laughing, fuckers.) I didn't see why should today be different than any other day in terms of my mental stability, and frankly, I would have waited in line for three hours to get my requisite tree.
The crowds weren't too bad and as I grabbed a cart, Tony said, "We're going to have to make the full circle even though it's Christmas Eve, aren't we?" I just smiled with a look that said, "You bet your sweet ass we're circling the store. This is TARGET, baby, my home away from home."
Honestly, though, that man does a damn good job of pacing the aisles himself. First, we stopped in shoes, and Tony was surprised to learn that a snobby shoe whore like myself would deign to purchase a pair of shoes from Target. I explained that the great thing about shoes from Target is that they're cheap and when they have been destroyed, it's easy to just toss them. It's not so easy to toss a pair of Jimmy Choos, no matter how holey the soles are. I don't make up the rules; they just ARE.
We spent a little time browsing the men's department and commenting on the tender spandex blouses that seemed to be rather popular. I was glad to hear Tony say he wouldn't be caught dead in one of those t-shirts. I mean, not only were they tender, but they were just plain fucking ugly. He's got good fashion instincts, that man.
We checked out the pet toy aisle briefly and made our way to the Christmas decorations. The very first thing we saw was a fiber optic tree and we immediately agreed that 2003 must be a Tacky White Trash Christmas. At 19.99 and 30% off, we wondered how we could ever decide on just one! We settled on the white model and began browsing through lights, ornaments and tinsel. I chose a sparkly purple disco ball and jingle bells for the tree. Tony was hell bent on finding the cheesiest folk art ornaments in the store, and holy shit did he ever succeed. He filled the cart with a pregnant angel,
a Santa and a reindeer that looked like they were crapping out candy canes and various kitschy miniatures. I had to draw the line at the clown-faced nativity figurines.
To the collection, I added a giant silver star that would become a makeshift tree topper, a box of Precious Moments ornaments that we would eventually put back due to cheapness, and a shiny white bareassed angel playing a violin.
We just finished exchanging a beaded garland of plastic turquoise snowflakes for a round of blue and silver tinsel with mylar stars when I heard a gasp coming from the endcap at the end of the aisle. It was Tony. He discovered tinsel trees.
Getting a Christmas tree was suddenly the most important thing in the world to him. He knew in his heart of hearts that this was the tree for us. I had grown somewhat attached to our little white fiber optic number, so I needed a little convincing. Before conceding to this change in Xmas decor, I suggested we open both containers and compare the two trees. Tony just smirked as if to say, "Crazy woman, I will go along with your foolish plan, but you will soon see that the fiber optic tree pales in comparison to the far superior multicolored tinsel tree." He was right. The tinsel tree rocked. We put it in the cart and returned the fiber optic piece of garbage to the shelf from whence it came.
We had all the ornaments we would ever need for this tree, having added purple and blue balls (hahahahaha) and multicolored stars to the cart, and we agreed that garland of any kind would seriously mar the goodness of our fine tinsel tree. Now, we needed to find ornament hooks.
Fat fucking chance.
We circled the holiday section of Target at least eight times with no luck. They did not have one damn package of hooks anywhere in that store. We grabbed a small spool of ribbon for to thread through the holes of our ornaments, huffing and puffing indignantly. Marching away, we announced, "TARGET SUCKS!" and headed for the checkout.
When we got home, we donned our Santa hats and popped "It's a Wonderful Life" into the DVD player. Tony went to work assembling and fluffing the Christmas tree while I laid the ornaments on the table in an organized fashion.
Clearly the bareassed white cherub was responsible for impregnating the pink angel, so we thought it best to keep them apart once on the tree.
We wound purple lights around our wobbly little tinsel tree and proceeded to cover it with every last ornament, save a tiny clock that lost its string during the hanging process. We declared it a miracle that the tree remained upright as we moved it back into position and carefully arranged the five dollar white felt skirt at its base. Yay! We had a super tacky Christmas tree!
And then we fell asleep on the couch watching "Weekend at Bernie's."
The feeling I had as a child when I awoke on Christmas morning was unlike any other I experienced the remaining 364 days of the year. Anticipation and amazement drove me to leap out of my bed and run to my parents� bedroom, glancing down the hall on my way to see the abundant treasures left beneath the tree.
My first words of the day were always, �He came! He came!� My parents shuffled out of bed with weary feet, having gone to sleep only a few short hours before I bounded into their room, wide-eyed and anxious. My mother insisted we wait until she had a proper cup of coffee and a loaded camera before tearing into our gifts. My dad sat on the living room floor, cross-legged and yawning, with coffee mug and screwdriver in hand. Christmas was supposed to celebrate the birth of Christ, but in our house we celebrated the birth of the assembly of Star Wars toys that lasted through the greater portion of the late seventies.
In fifteen minutes, every gift was unwrapped, wrapping paper was strewn across the floor and we surveyed our bounty with wide eyes and even wider smiles. I was thinking today that Christmas must be a wonderful day for parents. They spend weeks, sometimes months, collecting gifts for the most important people in their lives: their children. They wrap furiously and find the perfect hiding spot for these gifts, wondering, perhaps, if a particularly curious child might find them and discover �Santa�s� big secret. The look of wonder and surprise on a child�s face when she unwraps something so desirable must be all the thanks a parent needs on Christmas Day.
This year, I didn�t fall asleep in my twin bed on Hawthorne Avenue. I didn�t fall asleep in my king-sized bed with the black and white toile coverlet. I fell asleep four hundred miles away with a tackily decorated multicolored tinsel tree below me. I didn�t peek out the window hoping for a glimpse of Santa and I didn�t wake up with butterflies in my stomach. I just closed my eyes and woke up feeling very content.
We opened presents on Christmas morning while we watched "Home Alone" and sipped soy eggnog.
I called my family around 3:30 to wish them a Merry Christmas. My sister-in-law was buying cookies from her cousin and gave the phone hurriedly to my mom. My mom pretended to be happy that I was doing something different, something for myself this year, but I could hear sadness in her voice. My dad and I discussed the weather, the snow. My grandmother could barely hear me, but I heard her say, �I love you,� before handing the phone to no one. After a few minutes, my mom picked the phone up and asked if I was still there. �Yes, I�m here,� I said. �We�re really missing you this year,� she said. �I know,� I replied. My brother got on the phone and talked while installing a dart board and farting. It was a bittersweet phone call.
I said goodbye and we sat in front of the tinsel tree, watching the best of Will Ferrell on Saturday Night Live and eating soba noodles with homemade spaghetti sauce.
A few hours later, John, Caryn, Tony and I craned our necks from the front row of the theater watching "Paycheck" and nibbling popcorn. I'd never been to a movie on Christmas Day before. Thinking about that made sitting in the front row much more bearable.
Christmas Day came to a close with my back propped up against a red and white striped pillowcase and my eyes glued to a videotape of "World Idol" on TV.
And because I'm not a total heathen, (well, okay, maybe I am, but it was Christmas, so cut me some slack) I thought about the many things for which I'm grateful this year. I'm grateful for change, for courage and strength, for friendship and love, for adventure and routine, for companionship and solitude, for words and actions and life.
And I'm grateful for tinsel trees.
joeparadox at 11:26 a.m.