What I most want to say has nothing to do with resolutions, or the year in review, or regrets or hopes-all the things we usually write about in the waning hours of the year.
I spent almost an hour in the doctor’s office this morning with two of my residents. No, I’m not complaining about the wait. We were early and that’s what happens when you’re like me-I’d rather wait than be late.
I love looking through magazines because they are a rich source of ideas for art, writing, cooking, etc. Of course, this is the holiday season so the magazines were all loaded with Christmas decorating and cooking ideas. I love holiday magazines for all those reasons. Except this morning I got so bored, looking at one color coordinated Christmas scene after another. The children were outfitted to match the tree, which was decorated to match the furniture, and the accents in every room were so well coordinated that all I could think was…
“Everything’s so beautiful, so PROFESSIONAL, so cold, so expected, so PROFESSIONAL…” and after the third magazine I was aching to see one tree-just one!-that actually boasted handmade children’s ornaments mixed in with ornaments bought on memorable vacations mixed in with ornaments saved by our own mothers and handed down to us for our trees…and ornaments from the office and ornaments from our first tree when we moved out into the world on our own…ornaments that prompted stories as they were reverently removed from drying, yellowing tissue paper.
I wanted to see a room with a fat tree bursting with meaningful ornaments in all the riotous colors of Christmas. I wanted to see colored lights-not just the sane, elegant everywhere-you-look tiny white lights that “hold all the elements together.” I wanted to see old toys-real old toys, our own old toys mixed in with gaily wrapped presents in lots of different paper, in lots of different colors and patterns. I wanted to see all the physical proof that we come together at this one time of year to show each other we care.
I wanted to see a room full of people in individual clothes that spoke of their culture and hope and enthusiasm for being there.
I understand why magazines make these photographically perfect displays. I worked in the publications industry for years and those color coordinated rooms are agonized over for months. I know that. I understand. I don’t care. I still felt famished after looking at hundreds of pages of “Christmas Celebration.”
I was hungry…hungry for color¬–real color, not sea foam and pink, not sage and peach. I wanted to see hundreds of colors-not three shades of two colors. Texture! Give me metallics and flocking and velvet and satin-make me want to touch the person wearing the red velvet dress, pick up the shiny package with the sparkling bow. Make me want to be there, interact, experience the season!
I do have something to say about hope, though. I hope that next year, someone out there in publication land has the courage to stage a Christmas scene that speaks to those of us in the real world.
I don’t have a family much anymore, and I make things for Christmas for my friends and the residents where I work. I read these magazines to get ideas, as do many other people. I take one thing, one DIY ornament idea, or decorating tip, and I go with it. My room, my ornament, usually doesn’t look much like the designer version. That’s OK; it looks like I made it. And the person that gets it will hang it every year from now on, even when I’m not there.
I know I’ll be remembered and there will be fond (I hope) comments about the year I made and gave the ornament. There are grown people out there who got that ornament before they could drive and have hung it every year. One niece keeps hers out all the time in bowls because it keeps me close to her even though we live hundreds of miles apart.
Oh, I doubt I’ll ever see a REAL Christmas scene in a magazine. They’re just for ideas and they just offer guidelines about how to decorate for the most anticipated season of the year. Still, I had to say it.