Egg Nog and Orange Sticks.

Grandma liked a flocked tree—tall and not too big around. We scoured every lot in town to find just the right one. She asked the sales people if they would place it into the trunk of the Monte Carlo, watchfully making sure that no flocking fell off of the boughs. It happened the year before and she was still miffed.

We pulled into her driveway on Hollywood Avenue and oh, so carefully unloaded the day’s find. We dragged it into the living room and removed its plastic sheath. She asked if I could bring the bowling pins up from the basement. Grandma had two old, beat up boxes filled with them that were given to her by her cousin Gladys. The boxes would give the tree just the right amount of height.

Once it was perched, we took a breather. She fired up her Magnavox console and placed a few LPs on the spindle. Perry Como, Nat “King” Cole and a Firestone album or two were always the soundtrack for these annual afternoons.

Grandma poured us a couple of glasses of egg nog and offered me some hard-tack. Then we went to work.

She possessed countless strings of Christmas lights. Many tangled in wads, some didn’t work at all. I told her she should probably just throw them away but that wasn’t her style.

Each ornament had a story. There were the needlepoint cardinals she made herself. There was an origami of bird of paradise made from green ribbon made by a coworker from IML who ended up taking her own life. Balls, teardrops and clip-on candlesticks—every color from every decade. On top, we placed the blinking star. Then, in the corner behind the tree, we put the mirror—a tall dressing mirror that reflected the back of the tree. No detail was to be missed.

I took another swig of egg nog and went to trim put up the lights outside. She loved lights best of all and there could never be too many. The big plastic electric candles that stood sentry on her steps were just the right touch. I strapped them to the handrail with old nylon stockings which she used for just about everything.

Inside, she decorated the mantel and bookshelves by herself. She had a system. She had a couple of light up plastic carolers, lots of little candles shaped like carolers, too. There was a team of chrome reindeer all placed carefully on glitter-sprinkled cotton and fiberglass angel hair. Angels, camels and snowmen—a Christmas melange.

When we were finished, we took turns photographing one another in front of the tree, then sat in our chairs to admire the afternoon’s work. Grandma sat in her comfy chair. I sat in the swivel rocker. We stared at the lights nibbling on orange sticks and banana bread until the Magnavox record needle glided back to its resting place. The afternoon was a great success.

There were a million presents yet to wrap, but that was for another day—another sweet, glorious day.