Digressions: My Life in 500 Words or Less

Over the years, Rebecca and I have acquired a considerable collection of ornaments, an eclectic mix of new memories and old. Some are the traditional round ones of assorted colors. Some are oval- or icicle-shaped. Some are customized with names of our Pomeranians. Others are characters from “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” “The Wizard of Oz” or are depictions of Santa from other countries.

This year we added some vintage ornaments to our collection. In a way, it seems predestined.

I should give some background.

A couple of years ago I wrote a blog about my memories of the family Christmas tree. I have fond recollections of that old artificial tree, mostly our family holiday gatherings and the innocent excitement of childhood.

Among the things I remember about our family Christmas tree are the ornaments that made their perennial appearance. While we added new ornaments now and again, we had a number of them that grew older with us.

My parents are both gone now, and the family is in the process of sorting through possessions. It is a long process filled with a lot of bittersweet moments. We’ve discovered new things and rediscovered old ones.

A number of ornaments were among the latter.

Looking at them they might seem unremarkable to anybody else. But these ornaments were part of our Christmas. These ornaments were represented our anticipation of the impending magic of the season. When we hung those ornaments on the tree we were hanging our hopes on a day filled with happiness and love.

When I was given the option of taking those vintage ornaments I knew they had to become part of our collection. They needed to remain in the family somehow.

The day before Christmas, Rebecca and I placed the ornaments on our tree. They are not much to look at to anybody else, but they are to me.

They are my past.

They are my memories.

They are beautiful.