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| Some of The Old Items From My Christmas Village. |
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To most people my Christmas village is a bunch of old busted broken no-good trash. There are some cheap seventy-year-old cardboard houses with cellophane windows punched out by little fingers. The windows were made to show the light of a little bulb inside the house but were too tempting for children who just couldn't resist poking them.
There are also three-legged plastic reindeers - some with one antler. And dogs, sheep, camels, are interspersed with ice skaters and skiers of various unmatched scales and sizes resting or frolicking on a blanket of cotton snow. And you'll see Santa and his sleigh, a nativity scene and a model train running around the entire village
Like many of my family members, some of the characters and items that populated my Christmas village in years past got lost somewhere along the way. They are not forgotten though.
The train might be the only thing that moves, but the village is bustling with life and decades of memories. When I look at it, I can see grandma, who would pick up a new item for the village at the Five-and-Dime whenever she got a chance. I can see her sewing the dress and gluing glitter on the cardboard crown to make a Christmas princess out of a plastic doll. No one put more joy into the Christmas village than she. She would often have more than one in her house.
The Christmas village old and worn but vibrates with more life every year. When I look at it, I can see a young new dad and mother setting up the Christmas tree when their baby boy was too young to appreciate it. The mother that urged the child to walk with a supporting hand, now needs a steady hand to hold hers while she walks with a cane.
My dad bought a extensive prewar Lionel set including two trains and many accessories even though it might have meant he wouldn't get a new pair of work boots for another year. I don't know how many months of salary it cost him. I don't know how he did it. The model train still circles the Christmas village even though my dad is now only there in spirit.
The newest building in the village is a reproduction "putz" that my wife made to look like the house my dad built when I was five or six. That was a special gift that I cherish.
The village also contains a small model truck of the year and make that my parents bounced in as they drove the country roads when my mother was pregnant and awaiting my arrival.
My wife added her childhood putz houses with broken windows and reindeers and various other figures to my village. Our village came together as we did.
This year I'm in Florida with my 95-year-old mother, and my wife is up north with her 96-year-old mother. Even though we are a distance apart for Christmas this year we are more together than ever as we try to help our elderly parents knowing that we won't have many more chances. As time runs short and become more difficult, it actually becomes more precious. Like the Christmas village under the tree, we have been through the years and show the wear.
My Christmas village might look like a bunch of worthless trash, but for me it is more precious than diamonds and gold. Despite it's looks, the village is packed with memories, and special times and events. When I look at it , the times and people of Christmases past come alive once again. It might be old and broken, but it bustles with condensed life and love accumulated over the precious years.
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| Poor Old Santa. |
Merry Christmas.
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