Ornamental love

THE WINNER

A few years ago, my mother, 85 years old now and a widow, said she was “downsizing” and gave me this little clown ornament to hang on my family’s tree. I remembered the clown hanging on our tree every year when I was a child growing up in Mississippi. My parents bought it in a New Orleans shop when my oldest sister was a baby, over 60 years ago.

On Aug. 29, both my mother and my sister lost their homes to Hurricane Katrina. My sister, Sharon, wrote me recently and said she did not want to participate in any Christmas activities or traditions this year. She poignantly described seeing her Christmas decorations hanging in muddy tatters from what was left of her attic the last time she went to her home site.

Sharon moved into her new FEMA trailer just two weeks ago, and it will be some time, maybe years, before she will have a real home again. At that time, I plan to give her the little clown ornament in memory of our childhood and in celebration of her new life and her first Christmas in her new home.

Margaret Evans, Cheney

Honorable mentions

Growing up in Reno, Nev., in the early ‘60s, I loved riding around town with my family and looking at Christmas lights. We dubbed our favorite house “The Pink Castle” because it was covered with pink lights. On the lawn were all kinds of visual treats — a castle with a mechanical Rapunzel in the window, waving to her mechanical prince; busy mechanical elves in Santa’s workshop; and mechanical skaters, whirling ‘round and ‘round on a shiny pond. The sidewalk, winding through it all, was lined with large pink and white candy canes.

If you timed your visit just right, you would find the man of the house dressed up in (I’m not kidding) a pink Santa suit, moving from car to car with candy canes for those in the traffic jam in front of their house.

One year, “The Pink Castle” was dark. My dad read in the paper that the owner had suffered a heart attack and was in the hospital, so we sent him a card. That spring, the man and his wife threw a Christmas party for all the kids who had sent him cards. The party favors I received included a pink cupcake and this (beautiful!) angel.

Cheri Corder, Spokane

My third child, unplanned but very welcome, was born just before Christmas. This stork was attached to one of her shower gifts and since it was handy, I hung it on the tree when we decorated. The following year, there among the ornaments was the stork. My husband suggested that maybe this was a talisman. If we hung it on the tree every year, it might prevent any more little surprises. Every year it had a place on our tree and I still have only three children. I am now 84 and probably don’t need it anymore. Maybe I should pass it on to my granddaughter.

Jeanne Biner, Coeur d’Alene

In 1996 I made whimsical jester ornaments, featuring photos (the sillier or more unflattering, the better!) of family members (pets and myself included.) It was giddy fun to design the costumes and poses to “compliment” each person’s photo, and I hit the floor with incapacitating laughter a few times.

I then delivered the entire batch of ornaments to my mom’s Christmas tree, showing everyone their own little jester depiction. I hung them prominently on the tree, only to discover that the next day some had been moved to more discreet, obscure boughs (party poopers!) Evidently, my enthusiasm for jester portrayals, in all their festive attire, was not matched by my fellow jesters.

When my mom passed away a few years ago, and we were sorting through all of her things, I retrieved for myself the Mom Jester and the Andrew (my chinchilla, also now passed on) Jester. I had the rest sent off to my niece.

These ornaments remind me of our family Christmases, before death and divorce forever changed the tradition of how and where we may gather to celebrate.

Gail Somers, Coeur d’Alene

10 highlights Velveteen rabbits

Many readers sent in photos of well-loved old ornaments, much like the faded rabbit of the children’s book classic. Three of our favorites in this category: Joe Trudnowski’s marshmallow snowman reminds his parents of the wonderful woman, Grace Totten, who helped their “Special Olympics son” find his way into the classrooms at Bryant School. Liz Nebergall’s Ivory soap ornaments were carved by her mother for her first holiday as a Depression-era bride. And Debi Tupper’s glittery reindeer, which she made in second grade in 1966, annually inspires someone in her family to exclaim, “Who’s gonna hang that stupid reindeer this year?”

Oldest ornament

Colville’s Robert E. Forman treasures an angel ornament mounted on a silvery frame. His parents bought it in 1919, the first year of their marriage, and displayed it throughout their entire lives. Now Forman and his wife continue the tradition. “In only 13 more years, it will be a century old,” he writes.

Like a phoenix

In a house fire on Dec. 20, 2000, Pat Thompson of Colville lost all her favorite ornaments. The next year, though, a box arrived from her mother, bearing stuffed, handmade ornaments identical to those she’d lost. Most of her collection had been gifts from her mother, and it turned out her mom had bought matching ornaments for herself each year. “As I trim the tree every year now, I marvel at those ornaments,” Thompson writes. “It’s as if they rose from the ashes.”

The pink star

Many favorite ornaments hang on family trees as a remembrance of lost loved ones. None was more poignant than the simple pink construction-paper star labeled “Jennifer” that Nancy Hartley of Chatteroy treasures. Her 5-year-old daughter made the glitter-lined ornament in school just a few weeks before she died. On Dec. 30, 1984, Jenny and her baby sitter were killed as they crossed a railroad trestle on horseback. Every year since, Jenny’s pink star hangs prominently on her mother’s tree.

Magnolia leaf cousins

Doris Swehla of Spokane Valley learned of her Mississippi cousin, Cile Martin, “through the magic of the Internet.” Martin introduced Swehla to her Martin family ancestors and sent her a Santa Claus ornament she’d made. “It’s painted on a magnolia leaf from a century-old tree, one of four that stand guard on the corners of the cemetery where my great-grandparents are buried,” Swehla writes. “… It immediately became one of the dearest ornaments that I hang on the tree each year.”

Tea with Grandma

Bari Cordia Federspiel of Spokane loves a little teapot ornament that reminds her of having tea parties with her granddaughter, Camri. Once Federspiel sold the ornament on eBay, but once she mailed it off, she realized she’d made a mistake. The buyer graciously accepted a refund and returned the ornament. Now Federspiel treasures the teapot and plans to give it to Camri one day. “I won’t be around when she has tea parties with HER granddaughter,” Federspiel writes, “but I know she’ll think of me, cookies, Christmas and tea!”

Toy truck treasure

Ken Bartle of Kellogg, Idaho, fondly remembers his father draping his childhood toy truck over a branch of the Christmas tree. His father passed away over 30 years ago, and Bartle still adores his tin delivery truck. “I now place it on our family Christmas tree each year,” Bartle writes, “and it has been fun to watch the children and now the grandchildren have the same awe and wonder that I had as a child when they look at it.”

Shining son

Sally O’Brien’s only son was born just as her biological clock was winding down. “My sister, who had lost her only son to a commuting accident during his first year in college, sensed Sean’s significance. When he was 6 years old, she had a picture of his face put on a Christmas tree ornament,” writes O’Brien, who lives in Spokane. “Every year, this ornament beams from the heart of my tree. My son – with his conviviality, self-discipline … and now, his dedication to a new family – defines Christmas.”

Butch’s bell

Liberty Lake’s Gary D. Myhre loves a white Christmas bell painted with Butch the Cougar wearing a crimson shirt. The bell’s topped with a Washington State University helmet. “I’m a Cougar through and through,” Myhre writes, “even after a year that makes you blue.”

Mariana’s first Christmas

Carol Bellinger of Spokane hangs a pair of baby’s Christmas socks on her tree, which her daughter Mariana wore for her very first picture with Santa. Bellinger and her husband adopted Mariana in 1990 from Honduras, and now she’s 15. “The nicest thing about a pair of socks,” writes her mother, “is that there are two of them – so someday we’ll pass one of them along to Mariana for a tree of her own.”