| by Dr. Jeffrey Lant Author's program note. I started and just about finished my Christmas shopping last night, December 14. That is the anniversary of the death of Queen Victoria's much loved husband Prince Albert... and is the only day of any year when the public can view his mausoleum at Frogmore, on the grounds of Windsor Castle. The great queen is also buried there. I went once on a rainy day many years ago to see and found she had gone to the greatest possible lengths to make sure she was ready for him, her comfort through the anticipated blissful ages to come. Prince Albert is on my mind today because he is most probably the man who launched in England the idea of the Christmas tree. And once he had done so, loyalists in the empire on which the sun never set felt obliged to have Christmas trees, too, even former imperial colonies like our Great Republic. Prince Albert brought the idea from his picayune principality Saxe Coburg Gotha. If it had been up to them, the idea of Christmas trees would have stayed German, insignificant, and parochial... but Queen Victoria ruled over half the world... and her prince ruled over her. He liked Christmas trees (indeed, he liked all things that were family oriented and allowed him to drop a sentimental tear or two)... thus Victoria liked Christmas trees... it was the royal couple's gift to the world. I'm glad; I do like the things with all their trimmings and especially their fresh pine scents. Besides, all the presents do look nice artfully arranged under the tree, don't they? And since this is a story about Christmas presents, it's nice to know you have a beautiful tree packed with mementoes and memories of past years, a suitable place for packages wrapped and unwrapped. Thus, I have selected the seasonal favorite "O Christmas Tree" as the incidental music for this article. The best known version was written in 1824 by Leipzig organist Ernst Anschutz. It may also have been introduced into England by Prince Albert, whose aspects were serious, nervous, severely self critical and often lachrymose. If such a hard-working man (dead at just 42) could take pleasure in an actual tree and a fine tune about that tree, I am glad he found some comfort and joy at Christmas and thank him for introducing these features of the season to his wife... then the world. You can find many renditions of this song in any search engine. It's very soothing... Evening December 14 I am a person who has absolutely no Christmas spirit at all until I set about the important business of selecting gifts for my chosen ones. You see, I am one of the decided minority of people who actually like selecting and giving gifts. I do not regard the matter as forced (as so many others, budding Scrooges all), onerous, a ridiculous waste of time and money, over as early and inexpensively as possible. No, indeed. I grew up in an Illinois home, part of the famous Baby Boom generation which has, since its conception, had such a pronounced effect on manners and mores. Giving apt presents was one of the things my family and friends liked to do, even grampa Walt who could be notoriously crusty about such matters, especially if the spending of money was involved (as, with Christmas, it always was). I have carried this cheerfulness with me even during my earliest days when money was scarce and one was, therefore, often frustrated and impatient. That, at least, is not the problem now. The real problem I face is two-fold. First, my annual list is dwindling year by year, compliments of the Grim Reaper, who most assuredly is no cheerleader for Christmas. Second, with only two exceptions (niece Chelsea and nephew Kyle) there are only two young people on the list, and they are already young adults, teen-age years already gone. My adult recipients all have comfortable lives, needing nothing but the one thing I cannot give: good health. Each and every one of them has a pressing health need... and we are all at the age when no conversation would be complete without a full and complete health update. Still, needing nothing, they would be most dismayed if nothing came from me... and I should think most poorly of myself. And so, December 14, 2011, after the day's work is done, I take out the stacks of catalogs I have been hoarding for months... and which are essential to the only kind of shopping I will ever do... shopping which can be done from the ease and comfort of home, never entering a store for any reason whatsoever. First, as in every year, I draw up my list and, as always, I remember the dead of my family tree and acquaintance, people I knew so well and loved over the course of a lifetime of Christmases. I never forget these sinews of my life, though thinking of them is always bittersweet. I complete my short list in just a minute or two; I know each name so well and wonder who will be the next to go, shortening my list and diminishing my world. I then make my preliminary pass through the 50 or so catalogs I have retained for just this moment. Some are automatically eliminated; the Sharper Image catalog immediately goes into the trash due to their astonishing ineptitude with an order for a dear friend. I shall never again trust my reputation and seasonable equanimity to those boneheads. Catalogs for children are disregarded; we have no children. Catalogs with soft furnishings are tossed; January sales will bring better offers. As for still others offering t-shirts with the inscription "She who must be obeyed", these are not my style. Having discarded the dross, I commence my real labors... this year made immensely easier by the generous gift of a Sacher torte from Vienna, the gift of Dorotheum, Austria's leading auction house, a place I do regular business. Two slices of this famous confection have put me in a very good mood indeed. And so I begin my perusal and selection... Unlike most Christmas gift givers, I have no pre-set budget. I buy what I like and which, from constant effort, I know the recipient will like. Cost is never the major variable; appropriateness for the recipient is. And so I ramble through the catalogs knowing I would give no present rather than something hasty or unsuitable for a single person on my short list, all loved and cherished by me. Yet except for Kyle who is difficult, I find over the course of the next 3-4 hours presents that I like, that I feel sure my recipients will like, too. Then today, most probably in the early evening, I shall call every 800 number indicated and use my credit card to make all the purchases. The most important thing about this way of doing business is that one must be patient, partly because it's a very busy season and partly because the help is often seasonal, with all the potential problems that entails. Yes, patience is required. And a sunny word to the order taker, if she feels down and bedraggled, conditions immediately apparent. In a couple of hours on the phone, my shopping is done... gifts now on their way, whilst I take up the next and final part of my shopping; a visit to Trader Joe's for purchase of the sherry I distribute to all the people who make my life easier, condo maintenance, house cleaners, et al. I have looked for a lifetime for the sherries I give now (for my taste includes both amontillado and cream); Real Tesoro is by far the best, and the least expensive; a miracle often performed at Trader Joe's. Now I am done... simultaneously glad and sad by the paucity of my gifts... happy that I shall make these special ones happy at least once more... but missing the dear ones gone before and still so loved. For these, I take out my egg nog, remembering the great silver bowl my grandfather used when he administered the nog with brandy; (who got that anyway?), whilst I need only a glass. And then I plug in my 13" tree, the one with the bubblers my grandmother gave me a half century ago. And in its undulating bubbles all I see is the past... Christmases past retaining a magic Christmases future cannot hope to duplicate or reprise. But in my dark, quiet room, punctuated by the brilliant lights on my little tree, "O Christmas Tree" seizes and sooths me... and reminds me how sturdy God has made me... ready for the future to come... "O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree How sturdy God hath made thee! Thou bidds't us all place faithfully Our trust in God, unchangingly." ### We invite your comments on this article below. |
2.png )
