Walking throughout New York City this weekend, past the horse-drawn carriages in Central Park, by the Christmas market at Columbus Circle, around the towering tree in Rockefeller Center, my husband and I talked about the power of tradition. As we strolled by sidewalk Christmas tree stands, we watched workers push the trees through plastic netting and saw city dwellers hoist their purchases over their shoulders, heading for home. We took in the smell of balsam and spruce, and he remembered his childhood.
For my husband, the smell of Christmas trees on city sidewalks always heralds the arrival of the season and draws up memories of growing up on Kingsbridge Road in the Bronx. His family would head to the corner stand to buy a tree which his father lugged up the stairs to the apartment with the holiday banner of an old-fashioned Santa Claus taped to its door. Inside, the tree would be decorated with glass ornaments and strings of large multi-colored lights, its fragrance filling his home.
For me, the tree was always decorated late in the day on Christmas Eve, after a morning spent baking cookies and breads. My mother would clean up the flour dusted counters of the kitchen as my father strung the lights on the tree, also multicolored ones, but the small size. Ornaments, many hand-made and reminiscent of family trips or celebrations, covered the boughs like a patchwork of our lives. After the ornaments were placed and the garland looped, my father and I would add the tinsel, me placing delicate strands, my father laughing as he threw clumps of silver on sagging branches.
Marriage requires an adjustment to tradition. I remember a friend whose first married Christmas required two trees, one stately with bright white lights, red and gold glass balls and flowing ribbons; the other blinking multi-colored lights, popcorn and cranberry strands and quirky elf and reindeer ornaments. For us, it was one tree, small multi-colored lights, homemade and sentimental ornaments, but no tinsel. We still bake on Christmas Eve, but the tree goes up one evening before Christmas as we nibble on hors d’oeuvres, sip eggnog, and talk about when we bought particular ornaments and what memories they evoke. There’s always the branch of dog ornaments and lots of sports themed ones. There’s also a new one Tom and I buy each year, just for us, a tradition started on our first Christmas together 39 years ago.