Desperately Seeking Claus

... or not?

OK, who's the wise guy that pushed the 'fast-forward' button?!  Before anyone suspects I've run off to the North Pole, I thought it prudent to step up to the plate.

(Actually, I've authored several posts -- epistles, if you will -- but promptly deleted them for sounding too inane ... or worse, snarky.)

So, last night I guilt-ed myself into asking DH to retrieve the tree from the garage.   You see, he's asked ever so nicely the last couple years if we might decorate, but I (a) pretended to be mute or (b) blamed the puppies for probable chaos.  

To be honest, I didn't especially want to see the darn thing again.   We called it Cara's tree: When she wasn't 'tending to business' or eating, she loved to abide under its branches.

  

What to do but pour a glass of wine, indulge in a good cry, put on my big-girl panties .... and deal with it.  After all, my dear mother put up her own tree for my son's behalf - only a few days after my father's passing - with a smile on her face.

"Stupid tree!"  
... That's me, trying to wrestle it's bulk into something resembling a stately spruce.  Unfortunately, both its shape and mine have shifted less than gracefully.     

Then (ca 2008)

... and now.
What?!  Don't go looking for a picture of the author!

Does anyone else out there struggle with feelings of melancholy this time of year?   I was never raised to believe in Santa Claus -- unheard of in the 1950's! -- but lately I've found myself searching for his spirit.  Some mornings I'll put down my car window - perchance to smell a memory.

While I'm busy searching, I thought (one or two) of you might enjoy these olden images.

... that would be 1950

Santa's expression never fails to crack me up!

(ca) 1956?  Lovin' my new Davy Crockett get-up!

I've heard it posed, "If you could witness one Christmas moment come to life again, what would that be?"   For me, it's a toss-up:   

When I unpack the sleigh-bells worn by my grandfather's team of horses, I'll imagine my mother as little girl, bundled against the elements in the back of a sleigh-car, as her father guides his team towards town to observe Christmas eve with family.   There was only one gift to be had ... but she remembers cherishing it.

On the other hand ...

My father and his siblings never saw their Christmas tree until after his father's final church service on Christmas eve.   Returning to the parsonage, Pastor Willer would gather the children, then throw open his study doors to reveal "the most beautiful" tree.  Little else is known, but oh what I'd give to see those children's faces!

How little it took to make them happy!

I'm interesting in knowing, what Christmas moment would you most appreciate witnessing? 

Hugs from Phoenix!
Myra

PS - 
I may be off the grid for a few days, but will visit blogs as I'm able via my phone.   See, I've an important date with my son and his family over Alabama way.  (yay!)  
Of course, that means entrusting the TSA and pilots union to do what it is they do best -- but I'm nervous just the same.  Thanks for your prayers and well-wishes ... not just for DH and me, but all the travelers across this big old world.

Some of my favorite humans ...
a Favorite Memory (ca. '98)