Our Santa

One Christmas afternoon, while we were at our Grandma and Grandpa Barner’s home, my cousin, Gene asked if  I “still believed in Santa Claus.”  I was about nine or ten.   (maybe eleven)  I lied.  I said ,”No.”

I have never questioned the existence of Santa Claus.  He’s real.  When I was growing up, I knew that my parents couldn’t afford to purchase all of the things that my sisters and I received on Christmas morning, so he had to be.  If you have ever seen “that look” on a child’s face on Christmas morning, you know that he’s real too.

Take a look at these two waifs.  (You can see from our pajama bottoms that we were expecting a flood.)  This is one  Christmas morning a very long time ago.  I’m holding my sister, Sharron, steady as we enter the living room.   She was tempted to just run in and start unwrapping.  She’s already zeroed in on some special prize. I am making sure that she follows our “taking turns” procedure because that’s what older brothers do.  (My youngest sister, Jackie, is in her playpen in a corner of the room on the far left of the couch.)

We always placed our family tree in the living room.  My dad purchased the trees and sometimes we kids went along to help.   Dad placed the tree in the tree stand, helped mom with the lights, and then he was done.  The kids got to help with some of the decorations, but Mom did most of the work.  She moved our carefully placed ornaments where she thought they looked best.  She ALWAYS put on the silver tinsel, one strand at a time, and took it off after Christmas in the same manner.  She wrapped her treasured tinsel in newspaper and wax paper for safe keeping,  so she could use it the following year.   I think that we must have used one package of tinsel for a hundred years in a row.

When Ruth and I married, we started our own Christmas tree traditions.   Our tree selection was a joint venture.  We lived in Kalamazoo and selected our tree from a local lot.   Our decorations were few in number but grew over time.  Our first married Christmas we received a Michigan State ornament (for Ruth) and a Western Michigan ornament (for me).  I expect that we still have them but I haven’t seen them lately.

We spent each Christmas eve with Ruth’s family, and after our gifts were opened, we drove to Royal Oak to spend the night at my parents’ house.   We went to midnight mass and opened our gifts in the morning.   I woke up in my parents’ home on Christmas morning for the first thirty years of my life.

The birth of our third child, Michael,  was a turning point in our Christmas celebration.  David, the oldest, was fully engaged in Christmas and Elizabeth was tuned in too.   We began to establish our own traditions within our family home.   We attended the “children’s mass”  on Christmas Eve and ate Chinese food for dinner.  All other restaurants were closed, so Chinese food became a tradition.

We still made the annual trip across the state, but waited until Christmas presents were opened at our own home before venturing out.  We celebrated Christmas morning at our home and Christmas evening with my parents.

I always bought my own gifts for the kids, but Ruth was, and still is, our Santa.   She carefully considers everything.  What do people want and need?   She covers both ends.  She makes sure that everyone is treated equally.  If David was going to receive two dozen gifts, Elizabeth and Michael received two dozen as well.    She spend an equal amount of money on each child.  She never wanted one to feel more, or less, loved than another.

Whatever the kids wanted, Santa knew and provided.  They also received wonderful gifts that they didn’t know they wanted until they showed up on Christmas morning.  Lots of joy, lots of laughter, very little drama.

She operates the same way today.  Every gift is considered carefully.  Every decoration is perfect.  Every light shines as she wants it to shine.   No detail goes unnoticed.

When the kids were still at home, we often went out to purchase our tree together.   We chopped a few of our own, but more often than not, chose our trees from local Christmas tree farms.  Ruth was very particular about each tree that she chose.   Few were perfect.  Most were misfits, and as Michael remembers his mom saying, “even ugly trees need homes” because “they are all pretty when they are decorated.”

One tree was never enough.  There were several years when each room in our house had a its own tree: four bedrooms, a living room, our entry room, family room, kitchen,  our screened porch, and at least one bathroom.  We couldn’t have too many.

They were decorated with themes.  Elizabeth had angels, the boys bears and clowns, some with only white lights,  some red, some multicolored  – all by design.  Some were covered in beautiful ribbons, others lights only.   We had one tree with sterling silver bells that Ruth’s mom bought for Elizabeth each year and that Ruth continued to purchase after her mom was gone. Nothing was left to chance.  Even the neediest tree stood tall and beautiful in our home.

We are preparing for Christmas in Florida this year.  Since the kids have married our traditions have changed.  We are rarely all together during the holidays.

This year everyone but Mike and Kate will be with us.  They remain in California with Kate’s parents, sister, brother-in-law, and their new niece.  Since Mike and Kate married, he’s learned new traditions from Kate’s clan.   They, too, are filled with love.

Elizabeth and Sutton are living in Florida for the winter so they’ll be here.   Ruth’s sister, Kathy, and her husband, Dan, arrive Christmas Eve.   David, Lindsay, Brady and Eva arrive Christmas night.  They’ll have shared Christmas morning in Hamilton before heading our way.

When everyone arrives they will see our Florida tree. It’s as pretty as those we shared in Michigan.  While there may be only one this year, it too is very special, because our Santa, Ruth, decorated it that way.