A long time ago, in a country far away (California), JC and I were celebrating our first Christmas as a married couple in a house of our own. We had a fifteen foot cathedral ceiling in our living room, lovely gray-green shag carpeting throughout, and a cat. No traditions, no experience.
We went off to the base exchange and bought a gigantic tree--so big that it stuck out the passenger side window of JC's Ford Torino (and that was a big car) when jammed in the back seat. I was forced to share the back seat with more tree than I'd ever seen, much less had as a seat partner. We got it home and set it up in its new stand. We had virtually no decorations.
In a spontaneous burst of craft-iness, I decided to make ornaments. Cookie-dough ornaments that represented Christmas, and also our lives. Hand-painted by me, and in some cases, hand-cut by me when cookie-cutters didn't have the proper shapes. I made Santas, camels, a lemon tree, a cat--anything I could think of--and dutifully punched holes and threaded them with ribbon. We bought a few ornaments at the exchange: a partridge with three artificial pears, I remember; JC found some tin ornaments on a foray into Tijuana (one shepherd--or king-- looked like he was wielding a hockey stick); I found some plastic 'Shrinky-Dink' ornaments at a local church bazaar--and my mom had mailed me a small box of ornaments from my godmother's tree. It was nowhere near enough for the monstrous tree we had, but lights and love cover a multitude of decorating sins. It was a beautiful tree.
The most labor-intensive of my homemade ornaments was a felt-covered tuna can with two small figures glued inside: Mrs. Santa planting a kiss on Santa's cheek. Cute, tho not very professional-looking. Our first ornament.
That tuna can has lasted for 40 Christmases. Longer than most of the cookie ornaments, though the cat and the lemon tree and maybe a camel are still hanging on. I like to think that the tuna-fish Santa is there to remind us of something that is truly important in this season: showing our love and appreciation for our families. No matter if the tree is big or small, no matter if family is far or near, no matter where we are or how lavish or sparse the gifts under the tree, the best part of our Christmas tree is those we love and remember as we gather round it. And, of course, the tuna can Santa.
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