Of Ribbons, Paper and Tape

Dear Boo and Bubble,

My goodness, what a whirlwind since I last wrote you!!! Captain and I have literally been across the ocean and back - and when we returned tot Dulles Airport a week ago, we landed right down into the middle of the delightful chaos of Christmas. For the first few days, shopping was a challenge due to jet lag. The malls didn't seem to want to open at 4:00 AM and by the time they were in full swing, I was back to bed and sound asleep. Thank goodness I'm adjusted back to good old Eastern Standard time now and filled with the Christmas spirit, which has me reminiscing a bit.

Yesterday afternoon, I went into our room and starting wrapping some of your gifts. When I finished my frenetic flurry of cutting, folding, taping and ribbon-zipping, the bed lay covered with packages - the remnants of the activity strewn everywhere - and the sight of it all transported me back to a time when I was your age, to my old dining room which every year in December joyously morphed into wrapping headquarters for 3 Lakecrest Drive. I've written about Christmas at 3 Lakecrest before (See December 2012 - "It's All Sugar" and "Cha-Ching - a Christmas Story), but I've never fully explained the details that make its memories so absolutely delectable....all magically orchestrated by your great grandmother Mary. Oh, how I wish you could have known her in this earthly existence.

For Mamaw Mary, Christmas was a 365-day-a-year project. It started as soon as December 26 when she would hit the stores in search of bargains on wrapping paper, ribbons, bows, tags, cards, tape and any other holiday paraphernalia that might be slashed for sale. She had a special spot in the attic where these things would keep until the appropriate time. All during the year, she bought small odds and ends figuring that she would match them up with a deserving person later on. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, her special stash included all of these things plus several Whitman Samplers and LifeSaver cartons (the Butterscotch was always my favorite) - it was a treasure trove of unassigned gifts for bag boys at the grocery store or car mechanics who worked on her car or attendants who filled up her gas tank or just in case somebody showed up unexpectedly at the door and she didn't want them to think they weren't on her list. (It was actually amazing how often this last situation occurred and she would say "Wait just a minute, I have something for you, too!" and would run to the dining room where these odd pieces were already wrapped with a tag that only needed to be filled out.)

By the first week of December, the dining room was completely converted to the purpose of wrapping gifts. I will never forget how she and I spent hours hunched over the table working on first one box then another. My first job was to tear the Scotch tape into small pieces and stick them in a row on the table so that they would be ready when she needed them. Next, I threaded the tags with their little strings and tied knots so that when she finished a package, she could identify whose it was. I then graduated to measuring the gift on the paper and cutting an appropriate size. When I mastered the art of folding the paper and taping it, Mamaw taught me how to secure ribbon around the box and fasten it, leaving enough length to tie down a bow which she had deftly crafted. The pièce de résistance came when she showed me how to zip the ribbon into tight curly-ques......how frustrating it was when I zipped the wrong side of the ribbon and it lay limp and straight as an arrow over the paper, with no chance of curling ever again! (Later on, with the advent of stick-on bows and tags and wide satin ribbon, a whole new era of wrapping was introduced.)

Mamaw Mary's goal for Christmas day was to make it last as long as possible. She saw no sense in spending all of the preparation time only to have it over with by breakfast. In order to accomplish this, she developed several techniques that turned into traditions that I insisted we utilize when your mom and Aunt Bee were little ...... and I try to make sure that they are followed in your household whenever I can. First of all, your great uncles Bryant and Gene and I had to stay in our rooms on Christmas morning until Granddaddy Schaefer verified that Santa Clause had actually come the night before. Once he signaled that there were gifts left under the tree, we raced down the hall to the living room where we could see our initial bounty. After that, we went through our stockings but had to pause then for breakfast - which you might think to be unfair. Trust me, it was no burden. By this time, the smell of sweet rolls and cinnamon buns warming in the oven, coupled with that of bacon and sausage on the stove, overtook our senses. It was no sacrifice at all.

After breakfast, we reconvened around the tree to open presents and, boys, I must tell you that opening presents on Christmas morning at 3 Lakecrest could only be defined as an experience. Mamaw's most fundamental technique for extending the day centered around the presents. The sheer volume of them stacked half way up the tree, almost swallowing it, and she achieved the effect by making sure that everybody in the family had gifts both to and from everybody else in the family - including the dog and cat. If there were socks to be given, they were dispensed separately. If something had a bottom, its top would appear later. Granddaddy's carton of cigarettes was broken down into individual packs, each wrapped with its own bow and tag. (Thank heaven Mamaw didn't wrap each cigarette or we'd still be there!)

The number of presents was one thing. But the real culprit in making Mamaw's goal a reality was her rule that we open gifts one at a time. It would take us forever and every year, when the last package came out from under the tree, Granddaddy Schaefer would proclaim - "I think we have a record!!!"

What fun it is to remember these things with you.....and I'll be happy to have you blame me on Christmas morning when you are so eager to tear into your presents and be done with it......and your mom makes you sit still and watch and wait ......while all the gifts are opened.....one at a time.