Taking a December stroll down the snow-covered sidewalk of our suburban-blue-collar neighborhood was uplifting. It was Christmas time, and it seemed that everyone was filled with the spirit. The houses were decked out with lights, and Christmas trees were proudly displayed in front windows.
I must admit; I was excited as any young boy could be about the prospect of opening gifts on Christmas morning, but my admiration for the season went much deeper than that. Mom and dad always had the house looking, and smelling, festive. Dad would put the lights on the house while mom baked cookies. She would also see to it that every single decoration on the tree was in the perfect spot. My job was to sneak into the kitchen, and snatch one of those fresh-baked cookies; hopefully, without getting caught.
Mom had a set of decorations that spelled out “Noel.” They were made from ceramic, and had small elves leaning on each letter. She would usually place them on a shelf, at the base of a clock, which hung on the living room wall. One Christmas Eve, I learned that I could rearrange the letters to spell “Leon.” Mom didn’t think it was funny, but I can still hear my uncle Leon laughing in the other room when he noticed it during a family Christmas party we were hosting. The laughter was followed by my mom yelling, “David – stop that right now.” She changed it back to “Noel.
We had a very large family, so our Christmas Eve parties were very lively. I had two aunts and ten uncles on my mom’s side of the family, and two aunts along with three uncles on my dad’s. My cousins and I loved every minute of it. It wasn’t often that we were all able to get together, so it was a very special time.
It was always sad to see mom when she came around picking up the plates, which were frequently adorned with half-eaten fruitcake. It meant that the party was ending. As the night wore down, my brothers and I would usually end up lying on the living room rug admiring the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.
When it was time for bed we didn’t put up much of a fight. The sooner we were tucked in the sooner the joy of Christmas morning would arrive. I would close my eyes and start to fall asleep when I would hear mom's voice crying out from the living room, “David, I told you to knock it off.” The grin would remain on my face until I was sound asleep.
Today, mom claims she doesn’t know what happened to those noel elves. I don’t believe her; but it doesn't matter because a few years ago my wife, having heard the noel story many times, purchased a similar noel decoration. Now, every Christmas she displays it on a shelf in our home. I am happy to say that the tradition lives on. I am sure uncle Leon is laughing in heaven.
Merry Christmas,
Dave (ClosetWriter)



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