In the days when Christmas was enforced as the primary Winter holiday, Christmas ornaments were a yearly were classroom projects. Skeins of yarn, rolls of shiny paper, stacks of popsicle sticks, and blizzards of glitter, the y became stars,, circles and bells. I also remember making an angle out of a gold paper cup, a paper doilies and a tiny Styrofoam sphere; for years, she topped our Christmas trees.
My mother saved home-made decorations, although she always hoped that some would vanish somewhere between the basement boxes and the tree. Some were so old that we had forgotten who made it, or even what it used to be.
Such was the case wit the Xmas Lozange. Made out of melted yellow plastic, a foreboder of the melty beads, it was long and shiny. Because its texture was gravely, I thought that the plastic had never melted properly. As the years past, we all agreed it was butt-ugly, and neither my brother Jonathan nor I took responsibility for it. He blamed me, but I absolutely know that he created the Xmas Lozange. The last time we our families gathered to the tree with my mother, all admitted we hated it, and the Xmas Lozange hit the trash.
My mother made ornaments as well. She sewed them out of felt, She made the classics, the tree, the Santa, the stockings the teddy-bears and the reindeer, and she made ones that made sense only to the four of us; who would decorate her tree with a felt Sherlock Holmes except the youngest member of the Friends of Irene Adler?
Like most of his family, Liam makes things. Three years ago, he built a home for my Yoda figure. It sits on my desk an intentionally-lopsided hut, so perfect for the squat green Jedi. Right now, he has a business building habitats for the beastie-shaped pencil-topping erasers that are popular with his classmates. Demand is now so high that Liam and his fellow builders have needed to fire their sales-people. Liam may make himself obsolete because, since kids pay Liam and his friends in erasers, they may eventually be the only ones who have any.
This weekend, I am planning a trip to Pearl Art Supplies in Central Square. Bypassing the alluring aisles of chalk pastels, I’ll head strait for the craft supplies in the basement. Felt, Popsicle sticks, melty beads and anything that sparkles, I’m planning to come home with some of everything. The art-students buying brushes and fixative upstairs may wish they were going home to make Christmas Jedi.
My mother saved home-made decorations, although she always hoped that some would vanish somewhere between the basement boxes and the tree. Some were so old that we had forgotten who made it, or even what it used to be.
Such was the case wit the Xmas Lozange. Made out of melted yellow plastic, a foreboder of the melty beads, it was long and shiny. Because its texture was gravely, I thought that the plastic had never melted properly. As the years past, we all agreed it was butt-ugly, and neither my brother Jonathan nor I took responsibility for it. He blamed me, but I absolutely know that he created the Xmas Lozange. The last time we our families gathered to the tree with my mother, all admitted we hated it, and the Xmas Lozange hit the trash.
My mother made ornaments as well. She sewed them out of felt, She made the classics, the tree, the Santa, the stockings the teddy-bears and the reindeer, and she made ones that made sense only to the four of us; who would decorate her tree with a felt Sherlock Holmes except the youngest member of the Friends of Irene Adler?
Like most of his family, Liam makes things. Three years ago, he built a home for my Yoda figure. It sits on my desk an intentionally-lopsided hut, so perfect for the squat green Jedi. Right now, he has a business building habitats for the beastie-shaped pencil-topping erasers that are popular with his classmates. Demand is now so high that Liam and his fellow builders have needed to fire their sales-people. Liam may make himself obsolete because, since kids pay Liam and his friends in erasers, they may eventually be the only ones who have any.
This weekend, I am planning a trip to Pearl Art Supplies in Central Square. Bypassing the alluring aisles of chalk pastels, I’ll head strait for the craft supplies in the basement. Felt, Popsicle sticks, melty beads and anything that sparkles, I’m planning to come home with some of everything. The art-students buying brushes and fixative upstairs may wish they were going home to make Christmas Jedi.
Comments