Stanton Farms open for the season at Old Homestead location

By Pat Larsen

For Capital Region Independent Media

The task always seems quite tedious at the onset.

It begins with the arduous task of setting out to choose the perfect fresh tree or lamenting, yet again, over whether this would be the year to purchase an artificial one. 

By the way, it’s always the former, a Balsam Fir. 

Not as a default decision, mind you, it’s just that this particular choice always won out because we never wanted to make that much of a change to what we knew to be “our” Christmas tradition.

With the tree then perched in its rightful place near the bay window, the time had come to adorn every branch with twinkling lights and all those special ornaments that were beckoning  to be chosen again this year. Sometimes, I’d make a contest of it. I’d look over the assortment of colors and taunt the blue and gold ornaments, saying out loud, “maybe I’ll pick your colors this year, knowing the reds and greens would always win out again. 

Before long, though, I’d be totally in the groove and even the old Christmas songs and I had made friends again and I was belting out the one about Grandma’s catastrophic intersection with the reindeers and laughing out loud yet again at the absurdity of these lyrics.

Perhaps as Baby Boomers, at some point we began to experience the whole enterprise of decorating, year after year, a bit tiring to execute. That anticipation and excitement that was present when the children lived at home was gone and now searching for the ornament hooks at the bottom of the bin left us frustrated.

Then this happened quite unexpectedly this year.

Each of the very special ornaments that I began to carefully unwrap so as to honor their delicacy seemed to have a special message to share this year that stopped me in my haste to complete the task. 

I guess it’s not surprising when I realized that now 71 Christmases later, here I was looking at ornaments that signified a time gone by and wondering just how many more holidays would be on the horizon. 

So, as I unwrapped each ornament, suddenly right there, in the reflection of those glimmering orbs, I saw myself, all those years ago. 

The shiniest of the Christmas balls spoke to the laughs of recalling seeing my mom in her holiday apron, directing the decorating from the kitchen, as she took cookies out of the oven. There was no doubt that we’d distract her later on as we sent a spy into the kitchen to grab a handful. My poor kid sister always took the blame.

A tin full of snowflakes then presented themselves to me after all the lights were neatly placed and the ornaments had taken up their positions. That’s when the memory of my beloved Aunt Pauline’s incredible handiwork of having crocheted these beautiful decorations over 50 years ago came flooding back. They were still as perfect as the day they had been gifted to us on the first Christmas we shared as a married couple. I sat for a long while with these memories and took the opportunity to thank my aunt yet again, feeling her presence as I spoke aloud. 

Following this revelation, I then found some of the most precious of my holiday adornments wrapped ever so carefully. These ornaments had been gifted to me from my sister, Lisa, as a special memento of our love for each other during the last Christmas that we shared before she passed at age 34.

The emotion and the overwhelming connections were still palpable within these ornaments. 

This was such a very different experience this year.

Slowing down, and to be honest, having to slow down, then converging to bring me to an entirely enjoyable place.

Re-gifting isn’t so bad after all… even if many, many years later.

Wishing all of my readership the very best of the holidays coupled with the best of memories that carry you forward to what comes next for us.

Pat Larsen is a syndicated columnist. She lives in Greene County with her husband Chris and their pup Lily. Her first book, “Reflections… Anything But An Ordinary Life,” is available on Amazon.com. Please feel free to contact Pat to chat at 518-275-8686.