Christmas Hollerdays,,,from my book Chickens'Butts and Coconuts

I can't remember mom ever buying a decoration for the tree. They were all heirlooms or something made by the kids in school.

(I made the world's ugliest ornament by putting paper

mache on a potato, painting it white, and dabbing red spots

on it. ( My mom cherished it.)

The ornaments were old, faded and chipped. They

ranged from big round ones, the size of a grapefruit, `to

very small, like a cherry. Then, there were the long, slender

ones-that, I think, were supposed to look like the Christmas

star. They had real fragile centers that would disintegrate

at the slightest touch. (whoops, there goes another one,

Sorry!)

We had some paper chains, popcorn strings, tinsel, and a

well worn silver star on top.

We believed with all our heart, that we had the most

beautiful tree in town.

When brother Dick got married and moved out, he got

an aluminum tree that had a color wheel that reflected

three different colors in succession.

We viewed it as a sacrilege,

A real Christmas required a real Christmas tree!

Christmas Eve. St. Louis. Circa 1960.

Outside the frosted kitchen window (by the way, the

frost looked like little white pine trees or tiny little

ferns that God painted around the edges of the pane of

glass).

I saw the misty hoar frost upon the lawn (not to be confused

with "hooker" frost), and suddenly, huge snowflakes

(about the size of pit-bull puppies), started falling down, oh,

so gently.

Down, down, down, then up a little and down again and; a

little to the left, then right a wee bit, rocking to and fro in

the sacred Christmas wind that once cooled the manger

where Jesus slept so adorably.

Pure, white, pristine, unadulterated snow. (about three

feet deep, according to the bicycle handlebars).

The porch light revealed hidden "diamonds" in the

frozen white "angel's dandruff", while a bunny had to hop

way up and down, way up and down, to transmigrate himself

(or herself) through the deep cold pile of a billion unique and

completely individual, snowflakes.