Practically Synonymous

Anyone who knew my parents knew my mother's favorite time of year was Christmas.  According to my husband, she was Christmas.  For her the fun would begin around Halloween.  That was our deadline to have the gift lists ready.  She did not want to be shopping after Thanksgiving.  She wanted her pick of everything with the least amount of hustle and bustle.  

Mother had a system. Decorating the house occurred about 3 weeks prior to Christmas.  This included hanging the exterior lights, the big old fashioned ones, under the eaves.   She would buy a freshly decorated wreath for the door.  We had a lovely creche with hand carved, painted wooden figures.  It went on a side table in the living room.  We had some outside lawn figures that were kinda corny.  One year Dad made a giant Frosty the Snow Man out of plywood and covered it with a giant cut out Frosty. It was just like paper dolls; must have been a kit.  He put a spotlight on that thing and if the wind came up, ole' Frosty would blow over every time. 



Bullock's Wilshire  street side Wilshire Blvd, LA



Mother set aside a day for us to dress up and go shopping. When I was very young and her mother alive, we went downtown to Bullocks' Wilshire, where her mother, whom I called "Manga", worked in designer clothes. 

 



Hinshaw's Whittier, CA.ca 1960





When Manga became head of the children's department at Hinshaws Glendora department store , we went there.   We wore dresses, hats, gloves and I carried a purse.  In fact, I remember that purse being stolen one year when I left it in a dressing room.  I can still see it too: pewter grey leather with marcazite studs and soft grey leather trim.  Imagine! 

After Manga died suddenly, we would shop at the new Fashion Square in Sherman Oaks.  It was the first upscale mall built in the San Fernando Valley.  Lunch in the Bullocks' tea room was special.  We'd order a crab Louis salad and buttered rolls.   





Tea Room Bullock's Wilshire





Mirro Cookie Press



Cookie baking day coincided with Christmas vacation.  I was her assistant.  She made at least four or five kinds by the dozens:  pure maple cookies with a whole pecan on top, iced sugar cookies, snowballs, oatmeal with raisin for my Father, and her favorite, cream cheese cookies made with a Mirro cookie press.  I learned to make dough, cut cookies, decorate, ice, etc.  One cookie she felt she couldn't master was Scottish shortbread.  Our babysitter/second grandmother from Scotland made those ever year and brought us a big box.  They would melt in your mouth. 

 

No, not us...It's a representative
pink flocked  Christmas tree in this photo
 taken at a 1955 Alcoa Aluminum party.


We never bought a tree before mid-December.  We lived in Southern California and they didn't last long so perhaps that is why.  Mother always bought 2 trees, one for trimming and one to cut up for pine boughs.  We had two fireplace mantels she would cover with pine boughs and red trim like berries, bows, etc.  They were so beautiful.  On each mantel, she put three large graduated candles.  I remember the white candles she kept from year to year.  They had frosted candle wax on them and were decorated with artificial holly & berries & velvet bows.  She lit the candles each night before Dad came home. 

Every year we discussed whether or not to get a flocked tree.  Mother loved the flocked trees but my father did not.  They were  more expensive and he thought they were phony.  One year, she went all out and bought a pink tree flocked in white.  Sounds horrible but it was pretty.  They used to spray paint trees is colors and flock with a bit of glitter if you wanted it.  It was the one and only time we did that.  As a young child, I always had my own tiny tree in my bedroom.  It sat upon a kid-sized card table and I decorated it myself and was very proud.  It was probably only 2' tall.  I have no idea why my parents were so generous but I cherish the memory.

My mother was a terrible letter writer; she did not like to write.  Yet, she always sent scores of Christmas cards which she addressed and signed by hand.     I would go with her to the local Hallmark ("When you want to send the very best") store to pick out an elegant card.  She didn't follow a theme, i.e. no Santas or Snowmen or what not.  It was rather what she considered the most beautiful card available.   I think, one year,  she had them printed but didn't feel it was personal enough and resumed hand writing ever after.

As I grew older, the intensity of effort ebbed.  But, my mother never stopped writing her cards or baking her cookies or decorating her beautiful tree.  We wrapped her presents for her, put up and took down the ornaments, hung the outside lights.  I often cooked the dinners and my brother and I did the dishes.  But we'd still have stockings and Santy would fill them with necessities and we'd wake up Christmas morning, light the tree, get our cups of coffee and sit and admire it all while enjoying our stuffed-to-the-brim stockings which my mother had filled. 

It never got old.