Meredith’s Musings | Christmas, Come Early

Article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

Before the Amazon takeover of commercial shopping, Black Friday meant early Thanksgiving bedtimes, 2 a.m. wakeup calls, and endless lines, all in the pursuit of a “Black Friday deal” – or so it did for many. Mom and I, being the rebels we still are, refused to participate. We loathe crowds and pseudo-competition, especially for a sweater or ceramic bowl that will probably be cheaper in a week anyway. We don’t get a rush from the rush. On Thanksgiving Day, as my aunt and cousins would probe Black Friday ad papers and map out their expedition for the following day, Mom and I would eye the leftover pie, oblivious to the appeal of such madness. Instead, Mom and I had our own Black Friday tradition – we would decorate the house for Christmas. Black Friday was the official aesthetic christening of the McKinnie household. And boy, did we do it up right.
The two-story house would feature three light candles in each of the windows and dormers. Dramatic red ribbons depicted crosses on all the glass frames. Each of the ten columns would be wrapped in white-lighted garland, as Mom insisted Dad put outside plugs every three feet for that very purpose. A large wooden Santa Clause (so big, Mom and I couldn’t move it without a dolly and a rear boost) sat adjacent the front door, and a multi-color light Christmas tree beckoned people into the carport, the only door we ever actually used for entry. When visitors rang the front door bell, we typically ignored it because clearly those people didn’t know us. Inside, the focus was the 10-foot Christmas tree, always with traditional white lights and a collection of ornaments Sister and I had made throughout the years. As they aged, Mom wove in reds and green orbs (picture a Grinch theme) with holly berries poking through every viable cranny. The old angel topper that would open and close her wings looked downright sad in the new house, so we upgraded to a large star which Mom laced with more white lights. Drama is the name of our decorating game, tasteful, yet dramatic. And no tinsel; none of us has the energy or affection for tinsel. We hung mistletoe balls from doorframes, a joke on our taller relatives by marriage who would always bump their heads (we McKinnies are short). Green garlands accentuated each door frame and kitchen cabinet. We hung lights around the pool fence; we loved sitting at the kitchen table and viewing the spectacle through the windows. It felt magical in a way that only home can.
I remember this so vividly because I adore tradition in the purest sense. I embrace rituals that center me in the people and places that I love. I’m keen to replicate those traditions with my girls, strategically waiting until the day after Thanksgiving to erect our humble tree and considerably less Christmas decor. But this year, Wilder threw me a curve ball, asking repeatedly if we could put up the tree shortly after Halloween. Aghast, I wouldn’t hear of such nonsense, rebuffing her daily requests. On our morning walks, Husband and I noticed that our neighbors agreed with Wilder, as tree lights shined through numerous windows, everyone keen to delve into the holiday spirit. My girlfriend Crystal admitted she already had her tree up, though she would wait on outside lights until suitable to show her eagerness for the holiday season. I think we all just want something to celebrate, and we want to celebrate together. The collective recognition of the holiday season is its most appealing quality.
I find myself, more and more, saying, Why not? This is my favorite time of year, and I’ve fostered a similar affection in my girls. Why delay it? So November 15th, twelve days before it’s due, the McKinnie/Smith Christmas tree is up, inside decor situated. Our winter wonderland is complete in this 80-degree heat, and our girls are positively giddy. We’ll still put up Mom’s tree on Black Friday, though she’s scaled down her holiday decor in the last few years. I still think of Mom’s tree as the official start of the holiday season, though in our home, to Wilder’s delight, Christmas came early.