December 28, 1963
At 7:00 this evening, Joe and I will be enjoying an anniversary dinner at Mia Bella, an Italian trattoria, Texas style. Forty-nine years ago at 7:00 in the evening, the organ chimed seven times, I put one hand in my muff, with the other took my father's trembling arm, and walked toward Joe at the altar of the church in Jacksonville, Texas where both our families worshiped while we were growing up. Our meal that evening was a plate of waffles where we stopped the little blue Karman Ghia on our drive back toward Oklahoma City. When I bent my head to look at the menu, rice fell all over the table.
We decided in October to get married in December during my Christmas break from my senior year in Oklahoma Baptist University. I was in the clinical portion of my studies (which took place at that time at John Wesley Methodist Hospital in Oklahoma City). In the weeks between our decision to move our wedding date and that week after Christmas, we made a couple of trips to East Texas, picked out china and silver and linens, ordered our wedding rings, I made my wedding gown, took finals, and planned the wedding long distance and low budget. With less than thirty dollars for fabric and supplies, I made the dress from creamy peau de soie, appliqued lace and pearls, and sewed on all those tiny covered buttons. My veil hung from small pillbox hat (did you know an oatmeal box is just the right size to cut down and cover for a tiny hat like that?) and my only flowers were pinned to the muff I made from the leftover fabric.
Joe was handsome and happy in his dark grey suit and butonierre. My sister and best friends wore cranberry faille coat dresses with white organza collars and carried candles. Joe's brothers and best man dressed up in their suits, too. Our only decoration was a bank of magnolia leaves, leftover from a wedding the night before! A friend of Mother's made our wedding cake which I decorated by sugaring little Christmas bells the night before. The wedding rings didn't arrive, so we borrowed rings from Arnold (Joe's brother, and his wife Judy. I honestly do not remember feeling anxious or stressed.
And it was beautiful. Beginnings are like that. The start of our fiftieth year is another new beginning. Beautiful.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
Carol of the Birds
I am strangely attracted to a Christmas carol rarely sung -
treasure of music,
words with sweet mystery,
quiet, wondering
melody
Questioning feathered twitters.
“Whence comes this rush of wings afar,
Following straight the Noel star?
Birds from the woods in wondrous flight,
Bethlehem seek this Holy Night.
Tell us, ye birds, why come ye here,
Into this stable, poor and drear?
Hastening we seek the newborn King
And all our sweetest music bring.”
Stirring some ancient warmth within me
I play the notes and sing each verse,
decorate a small
Christmas tree
with vines, berries, woodland birds.
Greenfinch, Philomel sing
Re, mi, fa, sol in accents sweet
from woodland edges, farmland hedges
Noel, Christ on earth with man to dwell
Someone singing this tune for 400 years,
before that, once an older one now lost?
Could it be I am pulled by what I cannot remember?
Song and my great grandmother both born in southern France
She died when I was a baby.
Did she sing it, rocking me
in the old wooden rocker in which I rock my own grandchild?
Noel.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Trees and Trims
My granddaughters are a delight all year 'round, but Christmas brings more fun than ever. We enjoy making this tea tray with a tiny tree, teacups and teapots. We add a mix of pretty tea bags and Joe's mother's small spoon collection plus the book A Cup of Christmas Tea.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Snowflakes
Cutting paper snowflakes can make young children into magicians and grandmas into little girls again. There is mystery involved in the folding, choosing just the right place to cut, and carefully trimming little triangles and curves and slashes. But there is wonder in the unfolding! Much like the real ones, no two snowflakes turn out exactly the same. I have never lost that sense of expectation and trying to imagine how this one is going to turn out.
Forty-nine years ago Joe and I celebrated our first Christmas as a married couple. That December found us far from our Texas family and friends, in Corvallis, Oregon. The original plan for Joe to enter graduate school there had been delayed. In the meantime, he did any odd job available, including painting houses. I worked as a nurse in a busy pediatric practice within walking distance of our apartment. One of our doctors had a farm outside of town where we were invited to come cut a Christmas tree. We tramped around the hillside brushing away blackberry vines to find a perfect small Grant pine. Its symmetrical, graceful branches had wide spaces that were perfect for decorating. But we were beginning our home and our traditions. We had no old familiar ornaments to unbox and remember. We also had no extra money in the budget for buying same. So we hung a few candy canes, made some string balls from twine and starch and balloons, and carefully cut lacy snowflakes. That year I knitted my new husband a green sweater with sleeves twice as long as his arms. He painted a tiny recipe box for me and pasted "Good Things You Can Fix" on top.
The photograph is the few snowflakes that remain after all these years. I framed them last year for a gift for Joe. This year we will remember our 1964 snowflakes when we make paper snowflakes with our grandchildren. If you have never cut a snowflake, try this project. You will agree with Charles Dickens - "It is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself."
For some wonderfully fancy paper snowflakes, visit www.bontempsbeignet.blogspot.ca/2011/11/faux-sneaux-flakes.html
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