Tree-ey the time capsule

I'm kind of a materialist. We humans love to tell the stories of who we are and where we came from. It's this incredibly reaffirming thing to do and share with others. As the story evolves - and we pick and choose which details to remember and what weight and perception to attach to them - we don't just write our own story through present action, but equally as much by our choice of hindsight. The talismans we attach to these stories are physical projections of this internal artistry. They're artifacts not just of a time, but of a metaphysical mindscape. I think you can see quite a lot through other people's eyes when they explain their possessions - artifacts of their experiences, passions, and relationships - and what these mean to them.I feel a similar way about music, scents, tastes and other intangible sensory experiences that trigger a return to an entire state of being... that is one of the really nifty things about holidays. Somehow they exist in the present but simultaneously own and incorporate the past and future in a singular instant.

Through my childhood, ornaments were always particularly magical. Yes, largely because they were SHINY, but also because they were always accompanied by a story, a rush of memories, a sense of a past folding out behind and beyond me and my present life. One of the few family traditions that I remember upholding through my mom's side of the family was the gathering of all the grandchildren to decorate our grandparent's tree. It was an occasionally tense or awkward time as tempers revved up for the holiday insanity, but mostly it was about pretty sparkly things, cider, festive music and all those trappings of family and nostalgia that didn't always gel as much with my extended family. Each year, my grandmother "gave" us a new ornament (she kept them at her house, so I'm not sure if we were owners and she had an easement on them or if we were tenants in common and yes it's been two years since property so I'm just vomiting random terms here...).

At my Dad's house, we have ornaments going back to his grandparents. You can always tell the ones that have a certain strong attachment, a certain musk of the past to them... and we hear the stories - short as they are - of Christmases past as personified in a single ornament. I've always liked that and it's a tradition I want to continue in my life, so I've decided to start buying one ornament a year that represents that year's Christmas. I have ornaments at my mom's and dad's houses, so these ornaments for me are a lot about having these little talismans to share with Andrew (even though I get sole custody of them... property words start flying!) I told him he should be careful, because these are the ornaments that I'll show and tells stories about someday to our theoretical children. I then made a hilarious Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf joke that fell very flat because he'd never seen or read it (blasphemy!), but I digress.

So... ornaments. They tend to need a tree. I don't have one. I had a beautiful fiber optic silver thing that has made a run for the Canadian border (and since I've let my passport lapse, I can't really go after it right now, darnit). So instead I found some paint, construction paper, nail polish and lots of love and made myself a tree:

For Xmas 2009, I decided that my big thing was going skiing for the first time ever with Andrew's family at Tahoe. So I found this.

This year was probably a bit early to form an actual Christmas memory yet, but earlier this month, my first dance studio closed. Well, ok, they nominally closed. Actually they reincorporated as a new company with a different business model and now rent through a different arrangement from the same grandiose ballroom they've always been in, but the initial news was CLOSING ITS DOORS and so after the expected upsurge of sentimental emotions that such proclamations inspire, nearly anyone and every one who had ever set sueded ballroom shoe on that floor had determined to come for the "last U&Me dance." Myself included. It was one of the most intense concentrations of the people who have shared and contributed to meaningful moments over the last six years of my life. And in appropriate holiday spirit, the moment encapsulated past present and future. I was really glad to make some of those reconnections, to catch up, and to show Andrew (who made it as well), what I consider my extended family and certainly many of the influences that go into who I am now. So, I wanted a dancing ornament for this year.

Anyways, speaking of ornaments, this week I will be festooning my dad's tree with ornaments along with my dad, sister, and possibly Andrew! I'm quite excited. Let the Christmas jonesing begin!