line two.
my dad started working from home during the days of dial up internet service so we got a second phone line. i don't even know how, but i do know that one year during the holiday season i would call this second phone line from our first phone line and this would somehow trigger our downstairs stereo to gloriously awaken our whole household with the most over-the-top recording of Jingle Bells ever recorded. ever.
how can Jingle Bells be over the top you ask? i really don't know (or i have NO idea). i just know that it's very, very possible. the jewel case to this CD lay as just one bright shining star (Christmas pun vaguely intended) in a sky of ornament artwork and Santa tunes and tracks. my dad's selection of Christmas CDs to this day outweighs his any-other-time-of-the-year collection. (CDs are apparently these mini records that existed before mp3 players). if you find this irrational, you maybe be right. but you also may not know that these hours of Christmas music were entirely necessary. they were not only the sounds of the season, but the soundtrack that played behind the hours logged during the assembly of my dad's Christmas village. you may have seen these porcelain wonderlands in department stores or as restaurant decor. these villages may have looked defeated as my dad's probably DOMINATED it. my mom bought my dad a starter set, and a can opener for the can of worms that was about to be opened. the village has grown into a double decker venture, calling for an extension that my Papa built, and another later built by my dad. while many of you were out snagging the best of Black Friday deals, my dad was carefully calculating the layout of each building, pond, porcelain person, street post, and which color light bulb to use in the village church to give it a stained glass effect. he would mark these, mark the spotlights, install the lighting, and redeploy the figures to their appropriate spots all over a three day process. then, some blonde princess of a daughter would come in and sprinkle fake snow. over the years, i made various transitions to sprinkling snow from my dad's arm, to being tall enough to sprinkle from the piano bench, to being eye level and above. this wasn't the only transition we had to make.
our ring of fire started when i was in 7th grade, and Christmas that year became truly painful as my Nanny passed that December. pain rushed into a blur--one which did not include candy-canes or reindeer or many smiles really. troubles continued into the next year, and the following holiday season marked "the first one without Nanny." thankfully my dad is a rock of stability and also kind of an elf apparently. times were tough. there was sadness. there was pain. there was grieving. but there was also Christmas. what could have been a blackened yearly marker of loss was instead a beacon of light because of my dad's commitment to his family, the Holiday spirit, and one helluva a village. somehow, through all of the difficulty, he alone mustered up some semblance of celebration, even when the rest of his family couldn't, or just didn't want to.
my Papa had a working man's hands and i'll never forget them--he held all of us tight enough that it's impossible to. he taught my dad a lot of his handy work, a microcosm of which is shown tinkering in the village. i miss his quiet power and understated but always visible, unforgotten, and unwavering strength, even in the eyes of his own wife's passing, which came smack dab in the middle of the holiday season. i miss my Nanny and her ability to make the most ridiculously lofty dreams not only completely reasonable, but tangible. i miss their example of a many times tested marriage and their fearless demonstration of commitment to each other and their seven kids. i'm proud to see it in my own parents. i wish i appreciated all of this more when they were still here, but i am confident they see it now, especially as my sister tackles her acting career with her burning and fierce passion, and i try and set some of my words to music.
this Christmas the village remains in a cold but safe storage unit.this Thanksgiving, we watched pictures of village displays from years past scroll on our television as i ate with my Core Four family, a lovely guest of Lydia's and my thriving uncle, who i know my grandparents are looking down upon with pride.
i didn't get to write a Thanksgiving post. i'm always thankful for my family every day all year. i guess this year i'm just also really thankful for Christmas, and admittedly in recent years my electric bill has spiked because of my own absurd passion for Christmas lights.
watching Christmas unfold in the City (yeah, i'm one of THOSE new yorkers) makes Christmas a feeling as much of a Holiday. that's what my dad did when we didn't know what or how to feel in the midst of the pain. this year, we don't have to try. and though missing my Nanny and Papa and reflecting upon their absence can hurt, i am ever thankful that my dad ensured their would be clear memories of joy, too.
with a little help from the crew at Department 56.
-k.
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Now playing: Taylor Swift - The Best Day
via FoxyTunes
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