At my mom and dad’s house Christmas Decorating is an Olympic sport. My dad long fancied himself the Clark Griswold of the neighborhood, although in later years he toned it down some it still was a huge part of the holiday season for him.  Even so, this was not what stood out about Christmas for my mom and dad.

In the living room, we always have a smaller Christmas tree.  The main tree is in the hearth room, but, the smaller tree really defined my parent’s holiday.  See, this tree is where they would put their gifts to one another; and to be honest, there were usually as many presents here for the two of them as there were under the main tree for everyone else.

Dad and mom would try and out do each other on gift tags.  You might find a tag that says “To: My Bonnie From: Your Steve” but, usually it would be something much more exotic and often PG 13 if not rated R.   I saw “to my Faye Wraye from Your King Kong” once, I’m sure, and “Sexy Mama from Your Loverboy” was a perennial favorite …but often they got even racier than that.  A big Christmas tradition for me each year was reading those tags, and blushing bright red a time or two. 

This year, the little tree in the living room sits alone with not a present in sight.  Dad was getting pretty rough by Christmas last year, which, seems like a decade ago after the year we have had.  Mom and I talked over lunch today about a number of things not the least of which was how thankful we are that 2020 has put limitations on the holiday, because the mere thought of Christmas as usual…without him… is heartbreaking.  Maybe one of the saddest things I’ve experienced this year is their tree, all alone, without a tag to be read, and the idea that late Christmas morning they won’t be handing one another gifts and sharing the love and joy that always made Christmas here exactly what they sing about: the most wonderful time of the year.