fa la la

A set of elves. Originally, there were probably eight or ten of these sculpted pipe cleaner elves in grey-purple and silver-sage. Oh, and there was a frosty-aqua one, too, now that I'm remembering more. I think they were from the 40s. They had ruddy clay faces and cotton-tuftedbeards. I'm not sure where they are now. I used to have a couple of them when I was married.

Since I was a child, the elves were always on our tree. They went on last, because their heads (above their faces) were actually little loops that would only fit on the tip of a branch.

Until I was about 10, we always had a real tree. A child of the 60s, it was no real violation to purchase an artificial one (although ours was particularly miserable, and lived under an Uptown Cleaners drycleaning bag during its 11 month hibernation.) Despite my sad description of Christmas past and the 60s suburban aesthetic, it had its own charm. And each year, I'd place the elves on the tree. I miss them this year.

At some point, I will get pictures from my sisters. It will not be pretty; it will be reality. Imagine a 18"x40" low, 1940s coffee table, re-imagined for the late 60s with an avocado green Formica top. My dad worked in Formica at that time. The tree was placed on that little coffee table, which was centered in front of the living room window.

The tiny tree was laden with ornaments from our family. Older, broken sets of metallic globes with Angel hair inside, and many golden-glass baskets and orbs made up the bulk of the flash, accompanied by tacky crafts from Sunday School, layered below a heap of icicles. We usually bought a new package of icicles each year, but there were always a few crinkly leftovers to remind us of Christmas past. Lights, too, were a mish-mash of old-style indoor bulbs and miniatures; many colors, shapes, blinkers and bubblers that were carefully arranged to show the best ones towards the street. On top was a single spire of spun glass. Nicer than most sold these days, I think my sister still has ownership of it.

Memories of Christmas.

Isn't it rich, isn't it queer

Where are the elves.

Send in the elves.