In twenty years together, we have only had a few Christmas trees. In the beginning of our relationship I would ask Paul if we should get a tree. He would point out that we would be out of town for most of the holidays. A few blocks away under the freeway there is a funky lot where we found a tree the few times we were home. We always looked for an orphan Charlie Brown type tree; a small uneven thing that nobody would want, wouldn’t cost much, and fit neatly on our little Saarinen table. We even bought a stand and I had an old white mohair blanket that looked like dirty snow for the base. But most years we were across some ocean or another. But this year, like most folks, we are home. Typically, the limit of our holiday decor is a pepper wreath we bought one year in New Mexico. A few weeks ago Paul asked “Should we get a tree?” Like most decisions that I am not sure about I just said, “Let’s see.” That’s no without the no. A soft no. In the past I always wanted a tree whether we were going to be here or not. At first I thought he doesn’t really want a tree anyway. Eventually I realized I was just too sad for a tree.

I don’t remember too much sadness from our Christmas except once when the tree went over after some rough-housing. For the first many years it was a white plastic tree which was much easier to manage than a real tree, an example of my parent’s modern efficiency. I loved draping endless tinsel. A real tree was messy and it could catch fire. As we learned to advocate for our positions the three of us kids banded together and convinced our parents to buy real trees, which we would then plant in the backyard. They were really expensive and shed needles. I think that “ecological” argument lasted two seasons.

My sister ended up with most of the ornaments from our childhood. There were some awful plastic ones filled with what I now think must have been asbestos. Although my sister’s childhood was unhappy she kept all the “stuff” we didn’t want. My brother and I were happy to let her have it. I couldn’t figure out why the reminders of an unhappy childhood comforted her. Now that she is gone I think my niece Maya and sister-in-law Sharon have them. This year Maya showed me a few of the better old ones on her tree via ZOOM. (Hopefully the asbestos ones were safely disposed of!)

I felt closest to my sister when she was a young adult. She lived in Kresge College, the “experimental” college at UC Santa Cruz designed by Charles Moore and Bill Turnbull. I thought that was heaven. She and her (later) wife Sharon lived together at Kresge and in Santa Cruz. When they moved to San Francisco I saw them frequently. For a short time we lived on the same street in Berkeley. Sometime in the late 70s and early 80s we would shop for holiday ornaments at Cost Plus. We both liked the handmade treasures from places we had never visited that didn’t cost much. I was profligate as much as my sister was frugal. But we could share baskets full of ornaments at Cost Plus and not spend much. Our different ideas of beauty met there.

All of mine are now stored in my mother’s 60s era shoe boxes. But this year I couldn’t bear to pull them out and decorate a small tree because I would be reminded how long ago Connie and I were starting our own lives and building our own traditions. Those little trinkets were a through line we could both celebrate. If we are home next year perhaps the grief will have shifted in some way and Paul and I will find a funny twisted tree to decorate. By then I hope it’s OK to look at the symbols of love and loss.