connie's space

There is nothing like watching the Winter Olympics on TV when it’s likewise really wintry outside your own windows. Yesterday’s recent storm through America’s Midwest and swooping onward across the country didn’t disappoint in adding that extra “Wow!” factor to enjoying the Games on our USA networks. Our Marshall, Illinois, yards, streets, rooftops and trees are completely covered in that powdery substance we call snow. While it certainly wasn’t a time to be out on nearby I-70, it proved to be a perfect evening of cozy couch wrap-ups and cocoa-sipping.

Snow Experiences in my Beloved Luzhou

In Sichuan Province’s Luzhou (loo-joe), the city where I live in China, temperatures rarely dip below 45 in the winter. Very few of my students have ever experienced snow or the frigid degrees that come with it.

I will say, however, that my first year in Luzhou (2002) did give us a snow shower on Christmas Day, one which I’ll never forget.

I’ve reported this before but I was holding final exams on that day and my students were coming, one by one, for their conversation exams which I was holding on the open-air corridor balcony leading to their classroom. There was no heating in the classroom so all were hunkered down in their seats, mittens on and layered in sweaters. Quite a few were jumping up and down, flapping their arms to extend enough energy to warm themselves. Others, while waiting for their turn to come for evaluation, were wandering the room while spouting well-practiced, memorized English sentences.

I remember my fingers were so cold that I could barely hold the pen to mark their scores.

As I asked questions and waited for the replies, the air filled with my breath. I’d have moved into an adjacent classroom if one had been available but since none were, I was stuck outside in the elements with only the corridor’s overhead for shelter.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, it started to snow.

None of my freshmen, ages 17 to 18, had seen snow before. I later heard from colleagues and news reports that the last snow in the region had been 50 years ago. This snow was proving to be such a unique, rare and utterly astonishing event that it sent everyone inside scurrying to the windows to peer out. My little balcony corner was suddenly engulfed in vocalized exclamations of wonder and eagerness to race outside to play in the snow.

That proved a bit difficult with our exams going on; however, as I was toward the end of my testing list, I figured might as well make their day. I dismissed those who had finished while the others were left to wait it out for their turn to come, after which they, too, could join their classmates to rejoice in all the excitement.

The last few leftovers I was grading were definitely a challenge to converse with due to all the chaos in the courtyard below. Their classmates, not to mention numerous other students, were running about , shouting, twirling, catching snowflakes on their tongues, inspecting the delicate flakes that landed on their clothes, and basically causing such a fuss that I could barely make out my examinees’ responses.

When everyone was able to finish, I remember standing on the second floor of the classroom building, watching the frolic of the campus students below. Such joyful abandonment! It brought back memories of my own childhood: building snowmen, sliding on icy streets and sidewalks, creating snow forts, participating in snowball fights and creating snow angels in snowy drifts. What a shame cellphones were not readily available or even used at that time or we’d all have been able to record the entire thing.

That snowfall was quite brief, a mere 2-hours with no accumulation. By noontime, there was no evidence of this wintry wonder even having taken place. But the excited chatter of that first snow experience lasted for several weeks afterward and I’m pretty certain the memory 20 years ago of that special event, with the Winter Olympics upon us, is being brought up today by those who experienced it.

Looks like I’m joining them by bringing it up here in this space!

Sharing My Snow Experience with My Chinese students and friends

Yesterday and today proved to be a great opportunity to post snow photos and videos to share with my Chinese students and colleagues. I had so much fun! And the response of the below was non-stop. My WeChat replies exploded with exclamations of delight and longing at such a wintry scene. Here’s my offering for today, with more to come.

If you’ve been following my Year of the Tiger posts, you’ll remember that Gao Pei (Frank) sent me an incredible box filled with favorite Chinese snack items as a New Year’s gift. It was great fun to see such a wide variety of items I never see here in my Midwest USA area. In China, I see such gift boxes and individually sold snack items on a daily basis. Pulling them out one by one brought back so many memories of the tastes and smells of my overseas home.

It also made me realize that there’s no way I could possibly eat all of these on my own. They are an acquired taste, some of them, so sharing with my mom is fine for some items (like the almond cookies) but not so much for others (like the Sichuan spicy noodles or rice flower red bean candy.).

Who in my community would possible appreciate any of these? None other than our local Chinese restaurant owners!

Over I went to bestow upon the mom and dad, plus their adult kids and the grand-kids, 3 boxes of Frank’s generous picks which he had sent to me.

As I swooped in the doorway of Happy China, then bustled past a few lunch diners who eyed me with curiosity at the fancy boxes I was carrying, I felt stealthily secretive, just like a tiger. No one had any idea I was coming. All were in the back kitchen, woking up more vittles for the buffet, when I burst through the swinging doors of the back room, shouting, “Gongxi Gongxi! 恭喜! (Congratulations!)”.

“Wow! Connie!” greeted me, with a response of “Gongxi, Gongxi!” and “Happy New Year!” in Chinese.

I began hauling out the contents of one box, pointing out the assorted snacks inside. The goodies were individually wrapped but not for long. All grabbed their favorites, tore into the sealed packets and began munching down all those familiar tastes of China while at the same time serving up buffet stir fries into the containers. Not missing a beat, they kept working while exclaiming, “好吃! 好吃!” (Good eats! Good eats!)

The son has 4 children at home so one box went to him. It might be that his very Americanized kids won’t care for what is offered but I bet Dad will. His wife is from South America, Lupe, a young woman very adventuresome. I’m guessing she’ll be keen on trying out whatever her husband brings home. I’ll be interested in hearing the reports next time I see her.

In exchange for my goodies, I was gifted with a Fujian Province apple, ordered from Chicago’s Chinatown by the family. The apples had just arrived that morning by truck from their Chinese product company used for all their special orders. I felt so honored that they would part with one of their treasured items and I was the recipient.

For those here, it’s really business as usual but for those in China, I continue to receive messages filled with family pictures around the dinner table and descriptions of gatherings, shopping ventures, highlights of this year’s CCTV gala  and plans for short-distance traveling.  The reports are filled with excitement and happiness, reflecting the joy of the holidays.  How I wish I could be a part of it all!

Well, there’s always next year.  Perhaps in 2023, I’ll  be celebrating alongside all those who are currently sending me greetings from afar.  Let’s hope that next year’s Chinese New Year (the Year of the Rabbit, to be celebrated on January 22nd)  will give us respite from the virus and see me curled up on my couch in China, sipping tea among friends and discussing with relish all our upcoming holiday plans.

Until next entry, here’s wishing you peace 平安 (Ping An) for your day. 

Last Wednesday, a large, heavy box addressed to me landed on our doorstep here at 710 Mulberry Street.

          “What in the world did you order that’s 22 pounds?” my mom called out to me.  

           She continued her inquisitive nature by peering at the return address.

           “It’s from . . . Hong Kong?”

She paused in disbelief, continuing with “You ordered something from Hong Kong?!”

          Well, not exactly. 

           My box was a gift from a very good Chinese friend, Frank (Gao Pei), who wanted to send me and my mom something special for Chinese New Year.   He had ordered a variety of Chinese snack items and food stuffs from a supermarket in San Antonio, Texas, called Hong Kong Mall. $80 worth of noodles, cookies, miniature cakes, seafood chips and delicate sweet and savory pastries greeted us as we pulled out the packaged items one after another after another. Quite a haul!

           What an excellent reminder that, yes, it’s that  time of year for quite a few of the world’s Asian populations. 

Chinese New Year in China       

           If you didn’t know, February 1 begins what the Chinese call Spring Festival  (春节 choo-n jee-eh), or what we Westerners often refer to as Chinese New Year.  2021’s Year of the Rat is now being replaced by 2022’s Year of the Tiger.  Celebrations on Mainland China entail visiting friends and family, eating special snack foods, shopping, giving money gifts in red envelopes to children and basically enjoying a lot of free time for the next 15 days.   February 15, referred to as the Lantern Festival, then signals the end of this special holiday with people returning to work, schools resuming and everyone back to normal routines until the next year.                  

         My Chinese students, colleagues and friends, however, are reporting a different New Year for 2022.  

          China is hosting the Olympic Winter Games and with the government’s strict “Zero-Covid” policy in place, people are asked to remain in their cities and towns.  The Omicron variant continues to pop up in places that were once never a concern.  The way to keep the virus in check is massive mandatory testing of all citizens and complete shutdowns of infected areas:  No one goes in; no on goes out. Migrant workers in country are encouraged not to return home but remain in their places of employment to keep the virus from spreading. As for the Olympics, there will be no outside spectators, Chinese or other, for events.   Incoming overseas flights have been limited mostly to athletic teams only. Those who want to leave the country for holiday travel have already been told on their return, 21 days of quarantine in expensive airport hotel facilities will be enforced, with yet another 2 weeks isolation in their private homes. Needless to say, people are pretty much staying put. 

          Thus is life during Covid in China.

           That will not stop people from visiting neighbors, crowding into shopping malls or traveling by car to outer-lying areas to see friends and relatives.   In other words, there will still be plenty of happiness and excitement despite mandates of caution.

Join in the Celebrations!

           Here in America,  I encourage you to do a different sort of Chinese New Year traveling.  Drop yourself off at your nearest Chinese restaurant and give the owners a joyful beginning to the Year of the Tiger with your patronage.  

           Listed here are some simple Chinese phrases to use.  I recommend printing out the below and taking it with you to your favorite Chinese restaurant during the next 2 weeks.  As mentioned above, the Year of the Tiger celebrations continue onward until February 15 so you have plenty of time to try out your greetings.  Don’t be shy, have some fun and enjoy sharing in a culture different than your own.

Spreading a bit of Chinese New Year’s Cheer

As for myself, I can’t possibly consume on my own all those amazing Chinese offerings from Frank. I’m off to Happy China, my hometown’s local Chinese restaurant, to share my gift box with the owners (originally from Fujian Province) and their extended family members. I can’t wait to greet them with “恭喜,恭喜 (Gongxi, gongxi!)” and watch their faces brighten with astonishment at all these traditional New Year’s goodies, impossible to find in our small-town area. That’s what Spring Festival is all about: Spreading happiness, luck and good wishes to others for the new year. What better way to do so than sharing a feast of Asian snacks with those who’ll appreciate it the most.

            Here’s wishing you 平安 (ping an, peace) for your day, and a very happy upcoming Year of the Tiger! 

January 12 had me celebrating my 57th birthday.

I awoke in the morning to find the above display, set by my mom.

The birthday bear plays “Happy Birthday to You”. It’s our tradition to bring out this musical stuffed animal for any birthday in our family. This is the second year I’ve been able to celebrate my birthday in America with my mom. Usually, I’m in China but Covid restrictions in Sichuan Province still aren’t allowing schools to apply for foreign teachers’ visas. My college continues to ask but so far, no word has been given except, “Please wait.”

Of course, I’d much rather be at my college in Luzhou but I did receive birthday wishes throughout the day from friends, colleagues, not to mention my current and former students. Made me both overjoyed that I hadn’t been forgotten (I’ve been waiting for 2 years) but also homesick that I haven’t been able to return yet.

Posting for My Chinese Friends to See

To commemorate the day, I made sure to take plenty of pictures to send to others through my WeChat account, located on my phone. (WeChat, if you didn’t know, is China’s equivalent to Facebook or What’s App)

Here were my offerings: A slew of cards mailed from friends, a very pretty store-bought ice-cream cake and the January 12 Dog-a-Day calendar page.

Of course, no birthday is complete without the birthday song. Voices heard are me and my mom.

A Note about My First Birthday Cake Experience in China

Speaking of cake, let me share this story concerning the first birthday party I attended in China. It was 1991, in October, and I had just arrived at Nanchang Normal University in Jiangxi Province. I spoke no Chinese and knew very little about the culture or customs of the country. A teenage girl, whom I met by chance on the street, practiced her English with me for quite some time and then suddenly invited me to her home for her birthday. She had already contacted numerous friends to join us at her house, all of whom were very excited to have their first ever foreigner in their midst.

The cake her parents purchased for her was huge and looked spectacular with heaps of fancy colored icing lathered all over it. This 2-layered wonder seemed to promise a magnificent taste. After candles had been blown out, I remember the birthday girl putting a gigantic slice for me in a porcelain rice bowl (I found quickly that plates were not used for individuals but more as serving dishes for woked-up stir fries). She next gave me chopsticks to use in place of a fork and, smiling all the while, watched with amusement as I tried my best to manuever the dessert into my mouth. (I wasn’t yet very adept at using chopsticks.) I finally managed a huge bite, which caused the group to clap at my success.

As for me, the success was short-lived as I suddenly panicked to swallow.

I was anticipating something wonderful but the surprise came when my mouthful proved to be what I would deem as inedible. It was undeniably truly awful, especially the whipped- cream frosting, which had no taste other than a slick, lard-based, nasty texture that stubbornly adhered to the roof of my mouth. There the slug-like concoction refused to dislodge itself no matter how much tea or water I drank to wash it down.

The entire experience, from the sickly heavy coating to the extremely course, mustard-colored yellow sponge, almost scarred me for life. Nor was I the only one at that birthday party who strained to grin through a mouthful of this birthday “treat.” The Chinese in my midst wouldn’t eat it, either. I quickly found it was the enacting of the foreigners’ birthday tradition, along with blowing out candles, that entertained everyone, not the consumption of the dessert itself.

For many years, I wouldn’t touch a Chinese birthday cake, no matter how many times I was invited to do so. It wasn’t until I returned to the mainland in 2001, after I had been teaching in Taiwan for 3 years, that bakeries across China finally discovered adequate recipes, with overseas ingredients to match, which made for more enjoyable cake indulging on my part.

As for my January 12 here in America, I opted for an ice-cream cake, which is very difficult to find in China but one which I certainly prefer and treated myself to.

A Birthday Swim Has me Treating Others

Aside from pampering myself, I followed the Chinese custom which is to treat others for your special day.

Four times a week, I swim at the Terre Haute Aquatics Center for their public lap swimming. I couldn’t resist sharing 40 mini assorted candy bars, placing them on the table entrance to the pool, with an invite for staff and swimmers to pick a favorite.

When I ended my work-out, 2 hours later, not a single goodie was left.  Now that certainly was a treat, knowing that my small offerings were appreciated.

Final Recording

I couldn’t resist this show-off video as a finale to my special day,  along with an “I miss you!”  to my students, friends and colleagues.  

Yes, it was a fun day but I truly hope that my 58th will be celebrated at my Chinese college in Luzhou, with birthday parties galore and another swimming post but this time, in the new pool on our new campus. That was my birthday wish as I blew out my candles.

Be looking at this space a year from now to see if that birthday wish came true. I have faith that it definitely will.

Thanks to my older brother, my mom and Bridget for being such good sports to record this for my students. I received a lot of comments after sending it off through my WeChat channels. Thought those of you who follow this site might like to see it as well.

Happy 2022, everyone!

There’s a story here concerning my mom and me performing in a trio during our Marshall First UMC Christmas Eve Service.

We weren’t meant to be a trio.

We were only meant to be a part of the choir but when the college student who was to sing with her friend became exposed to Covid by a roommate, thus bowing out of the service, our organist/choir director Jo Sanders was desperate. Who could she turn to at the last minute to step in?

My mom was choir director for over 30 years at our church. She also is a retired music teacher, a music major who specialized in voice. She can read music at the drop of a hat so she was a logical choice as a stand-in.

I, on the other hand, am not that adept at reading music but if it’s the melody, I can hold my own. Thus I was also enlisted to complete what was to be a duet but now became a trio.

On Thursday the 23rd, our trio had a short, 30-minute practice session with recent college graduate Jocelyn, who was to sing first soprano. I was to be second soprano and my mom, alto.

Let me just say there were a LOT of words in that song, The Innkeeper’s Carol. The copy we all had wasn’t so great as there was no original music score to Xerox from. Jo searched in the music files but couldn’t find any, thus my mom and I really struggled to piece together the verses. Jocelyn, being much younger than us, didn’t seem to have visual difficulties but remember, she had a lot longer to practice this thing than we did.

At home, my mom and I went over our music at the piano numerous times. At first, it was an agonizing procedure squinting at our copies, trying desperately to make sense of the faintly visible print while we harmonized our parts. The pressure finally got the better of us. We began giggling so much at our interpreted guesses that we barely made it through the piece from beginning to end.

“Wonder who that baby possibly can be?” became “Wonder who that baby probably can be?”

“Now a baby sleeps upon my stable floor” became “Now a baby sleeps upon my standup door.”

“Up above I hear a host of angels sing” became “Up above I hear a hoard of angels sing.”

“Yonder there are shepherds kneeling by his bed” became “Yonder there are shepherds kneading by his head.”

“Somewhere there are bells, I’m sure I heard them ring” became “Somewhere there is hell, I’m sure I heard him sing.”

It goes on from there but you can see why we got so punchy. While we had great fun during our at-home rehearsal time, the kicker came when it was time to sing for the final performance. This took place in front of the congregation with Jocelyn and was recorded, going out live on Facebook.

Did we slip up and move into our comedy routine during this solemn, holy occasion?

Take a look and find out. Hear anything amiss? That’s my tantalizing invite to get you to listen. Enjoy, folks!! We certainly did.

https://www.facebook.com/watch/live/?ref=search&v=1256695571488339

     It was a fight to get through the lower levels of the Mouer Department Store in Luzhou, China. The entire population of this Yangtze River town seemed to be here. I pressed in close and peered over the customers, who were sampling and discussing some item of great importance.

            What was the big draw? None other than the yue bing, or mooncake.

            Much like the Christmas fruitcake in the United States, the mooncake is not really a cake at all. It is a heavy mass of pasty substance, usually the size of your palm, encased in either a soft dough or flaky crust. Fillings abound, such as hard-boiled egg yokes, shaved dried beef, sweet red-bean paste, coconut, minced walnuts, sesame seeds and pine nuts.

            All year, thousands of yue bing make their way into every shop, grocery, market and department store across the country.  It’s especially prevalent around festival times, and when I was in China, it seemed that a majority of these traditional goodies found their way into my home.

            As a teacher in China, never had I been able to escape the bombardment of yue bing, especially during Christmastime. After every Christmas Open House I held, over 14 parties for 350-plus students, colleagues and friends,  everyone would bring what was considered the perfect gift for a foreigner: mooncakes. 

These would descend upon me with a vengeance. In my small apartment on the college campus , the mooncake pile kept rapidly growing all through December, much like a persistent fungus.

          “We want to share our culture with you!” my holiday guests called out as they thrust into my hands boxes and bags of this festival snack food. Even the school administration officials got in on the act. On formal visits to my home for Christmas, they were often laden with regional mooncake specialties presented in ostentatiously decorated boxes.

         I appreciated their kindness, but at the same time, I was always at a loss what to do with my nightmarish hoard.

         Strangely enough, like the Christmas fruitcake, mooncakes were something of a joke. My beaming well-wishers proclaimed them “delicious,” but when the Chinese were questioned, their responses were not so complimentary.

“Too sweet,” students said with a frown.

           “Too fattening,” my colleagues declared.

           “Too many!” my friends groaned.

So while it seemed that everyone gave these things away as gifts, no one really liked to eat them.

Now here I am, still in the States, where it’s not the mooncake disposal dilemma I’m stuck with but the fruitcake.  There are 3 sent from family and friends sitting in my mom’s fridge, and another just arrived in a Harry & David 3-tiered gift box. 

 I thought I might be able to pawn some of the stash off on Bridget, our immigrant dog from China. 

Perhaps she would appreciate having a little taste of Americana.  But, alas, she took one tiny nibble and spat the rest out on the floor.

I guess every culture has its preferences, and looks like in this family, whether you be from China or America, fruitcake isn’t one of them.

“The worst gift is a fruitcake.  There is only one fruitcake in the entire world, and people keep sending it to each other.”   Johnny Carson

(This piece was published in the Christian Science Monitor’s Home Forum section, December 3, 2004. Thought it was appropriate for today’s entry, before Christmas. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!)

       My Christmas stockings have followed me around the world.  No matter what teaching position I’ve held overseas, my mother always mailed mine early enough so that I’d be able to adhere to our family’s Christmas day tradition of opening stockings before breakfast.   

       I consider the opening of my Christmas stocking a sacred holiday tradition.  Never would I open my stocking before Christmas.  But I have learned that breaking a tradition can sometimes be more meaningful than keeping one

            My first overseas teaching position was at the YWCA (Young Women’s Christian Association)  in Kyoto, Japan.   Aside from teaching English classes, I assisted the staff with various YWCA programs, including all the holiday events crowded into December. Yet it was the ladies’ Christmas luncheon which would require the most preparation on my part.  I’d been invited to be the guest speaker and introduce American Christmas customs to the guests.  This was quite a task, considering most of the women attending were not Christians nor familiar with even the most common Yuletide traditions of my country.   With this thought in mind, I began planning how best to give the ladies an understanding of Christmas in a mere 20-minute presentation.  

            A few days before the luncheon, my first overseas Christmas stocking from my mother made a timely arrival.  It was beautifully made from old quilt pieces sewn together by a local seamstress she had commissioned just for this occasion.  The goodies inside threatened to burst the seams and I anticipated the coming of Christmas morning when I could finally be able to see what wonderful things my mother had stuffed inside. 

             It logically followed that my Christmas stocking make an appearance in the YWCA program.  Seeing such a traditional American holiday itemwas bound to impress the Japanese ladies, and having a genuine one to show would make my presentation all the more memorable.    

            On the day of the luncheon, over 100 YWCA members filled the small hall.  After a light meal, I was introduced to begin the program.  One by one, I brought out various Christmas items to show the women seated around me.  When I sensed everyone was at an emotional high, I dramatically pulled out my Christmas stocking.   

            The reaction was just as I had hoped.  Delighted exclamations filled the room.  Everyone was taken by the beauty and uniqueness of the holiday stocking my mother had sent from America.  But what fascinated them the most was my explanation of stuffing the stocking and then opening it on Christmas morning.   

When my program ended, I thanked the ladies for their invitation, wished them a Merry Christmas and sat down.  A strange silence followed.  No one clapped.  No one spoke. No one moved.  People were obviously waiting for something, but what?

            Kawabata-san, the YWCA director, quickly approached the platform.

  “Connie did a wonderful program for us today,” she announced.  “I think we all learned many things, but maybe now she will show us what is in the Christmas sock?”

Kawabata-san smiled.  The ladies brightened.  I panicked.  

My reluctance signaled one of the Americans in the group to come to my rescue.  She proposed I leave the room, allow her to open my stocking for everyone to see and then give her time to repack it again before I returned.  

It was a brilliant solution.  

Kawabata-san escorted me outside of the room where I stood by the door, awaiting permission to rejoin the group.  Inside, I heard comments in Japanese arise as my stocking’s contents were revealed.  

“How cute!”  

“How delicious!” 

“What a good mother!”    

            When I re-entered the room, I was relieved to see my stocking was exactly as I had left it, but I noticed a change in the ladies now facing me.  They realized that the Christmas stocking itself was not the remarkable thing they had at first imagined.  All those knick-knacks crammed inside did not warrant much fuss or attention.  It was the love that went into the preparation of the stocking that made the tradition so meaningful, and it was this understanding which had been passed on to them that day.

My overseas Christmas stocking has never since made another public appearance, but if my students in China were ever to ask me to share with them its contents, I would do so without hesitation.  My Christmas traditions are very important to me, but some traditions, I have found, can be just asmeaningful being broken as being kept.  

May your stockings be full, your hearts glad and your holiday gatherings blessed.

My mom continues with her weekly column in The Marshall Advocate, our local newspaper. She’s been in the Christmas spirit as we’ve been decorating with all our favorites. Numerous Christmas items from 5 separate bins have been emptied and placed inside the house and out. Each has found its special nook or cranny in my mom’s smaller house. So many memories!

In the newspaper’s December 11 issue, my mom shared her favorite tree ornaments, some new and others old, plus their stories and special meanings. Here I share her article with you.

Walk with Me by Priscilla Wieck

It is beginning to look like Christmas in our small mid-western town. During my daily walks this week I saw a lot of outside work being done. Some folks were finishing a late leaf raking in preparation for winter snows. Others were in the beginnings of stringing lights on roof eaves and hanging green garlands with red ribbons around lamp posts and on porches. Lighted trees sprouted up everywhere, inside and outside. It seemed to me that they made their appearance later than usual this year but that may be because at our house a Christmas tree was up and lighted the day after Thanksgiving.

For the past few years, decorating trees with various themes has become popular. We see Grinch trees, Disney trees, all one color trees, country trees ,whatever that makes a tree different . It seems that anything goes as long as it stands out from the others. For some people, Christmas trees have become the “eye candy” of the season featuring glitz , glitter and spectacle. For me, however, my tree has become a tree of memories and I enjoy a trip down memory lane with each bauble I hang on its branches.

When I moved into a smaller house, I downsized my Christmas tree ornaments and kept only the ones that had meaning for me. I’ll share with you some of the memories that the “keepers” invoke .

Two of my oldest ornaments are a 3 inch cardboard house partnered by a 4 inch cardboard church both with painted windows and doors covered in glitter.

When I place them on the tree each year I think of the church and parsonage in Massachusetts where I spent the first seven years of my life. They are always hang near a paper angel with foil wings that held the place of honor on the top on all of my childhood Christmas trees.

Each year I carefully remove from their cardboard nest of tissue , a dozen blown glass balls of various colors and designs that I purchased at Cauldwell’s Store the first year we lived in Marshall. The 1958 sticker price remains on the carton–$1.35. What fun it was to wander the aisles of that emporium!

Mildred Frazier, our former school librarian and good friend, gave me a tiny molded , painted wax angel with halo many years ago. She became my mentor and friend for my first years of teaching in Marshall. Lots of memories from those years!

There is a small composite lamb that daughter Connie placed on the church tree as part of a Christmas program when she was three years of age. It hangs near an intricately woven bamboo tree ornament that she brought from China along with a golden , red tasseled Buddha. It’s good to be able to share Christmas with her this year.

Sally Carpenter once gifted me with a lovely glass icicle that I place on my tree each year in her memory while saying a prayer of thanks for her many years of friendship .I miss her dearly.

One year, my former sister-in law sent me a little long nosed felt mouse with a granny cap that makes me smile every time I see it. We may never meet again in person, but I treasure the years spent with her in our family. 

A picture of my granddaughter, Meredith in a baby’s first Christmas frame is also a welcome sight each year and a reminder of how fast time passes. She is now 35.

More recently, I have added to my memory collection , a felted, fiber ornament in the shape of an alpaca made by a Sister Of Providence at the nearby St. Mary of the Woods College on the outskirts of West Terre Haute. It is a reminder of a visit to see the college’s alpacas with my brother and his wife when both were able to travel here.

I have too many Christmas tree memories to share them all in this column. This year I added two more. One, a white long bearded gnome(this is the year of the gnome ) was purchased last week on a shopping trip with Connie and the other is a glittery winged angel in traditional Guatamalian dress made in that country by the Louis Garcia family. These new additions will be entered in my time capsule, stored carefully away at the end of the season and welcomed back next year as the newest members in my Christmas Tree bank of memories.

“It’s not what’s under the Christmas tree that matters,it’s who is around it.”–Anon.

Peace

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