traditions – Inherited Values

Vintage German Christmas Tree Candle Clips

Before electricity made its way into most homes, Christmas trees had the warm glow of candlelight. The candles were attached to the tree branches via little metal clips. Most often they were decorative clips made in Germany, like these shown here. Since using candles to light your tree is neither practical, nor safe, we don’t recommend bringing back that tradition lightly. (No pun intended!) But that doesn’t mean you can’t safely use these charming bits of Christmas past this holiday. They make wonderful placeholders, with or without candles, at your holiday table.

More than that, these vintage and antique Christmas tree clips can be used to display your holiday greeting cards (collectible ephemera and the new ones you receive from family & friends this year), photographs, etc. (As always, I would recommend sliding old or collectible paper in clear sleeves to protect them from the elements.)

This sort of display would work well on holiday trim around doorways, etc.,; not just on trees.

In fact, since the designs on these old tree clips vary widely, including non-holiday motifs, like pine-cones, you could use them year round. For example, instead of clothespins on those framed bits of chicken-wire and other rustic ways to show-off photographs.

While I obviously prefer “old” pieces, if you prefer something more industrial (or at least not so shabby chic), there are contemporary clips as well. Whether you opt for old or new, whether you want to light the candles or not, the fact that they still make these tree candle clips means they still make the right size candles too.

What Do You Wear Antiquing & Why?

I found this retro advertising spot made to look like a column called Travel Talk From Kaymax Travel Agency published in the Tri City Herald, July 15, 1981.

In it, Joe Jackson offers motivation for antiquing abroad:

If you’re an antique buff, you’ll have the time of your life browsing in foreign countries. Let’s face it, most of them were in the business of civilization many centuries before Columbus stepped ashore here.

Along with recommending going to a “flea market” — and, yes, he puts that in quotes — there’s also a tip:

Don’t forget that bargaining is the name-of-the-game abroad, and the older the clothes you wear at flea markets, the better the price.

I never really thought about that before. Typically, we wear old clothes when we go picking for the sheer practicality; one never knows what they’ll have to carry, where they’ll have to climb or crawl, etc. We wear old clothes so we don’t ruin good stuff. And heck, we call it “going bumming” for a reason. *wink*

But I suppose that wearing newer or more fancy clothing may communicate that a person is a “newbie” to collecting. And less experience might mean that a person will be less familiar with an item’s rarity, pricing, etc., perhaps less comfort with bargaining too, which may lead a seller to think they’ll have the upper hand in negotiating — and get a higher price.

So there you go; your “going bumming” clothes may make you look like a bum, but that may help you clean-up at a flea market.

Pick & Grin – Christmas Memories – Time to Tear Down the Tree

Pick: I suppose it is time. Time to take down the tree, put all the ornaments in their boxes, until next year. We are the only ones in our ‘group’ who have a live tree. When the kids were small, we’d work on putting it up for a few days. You’d do the lights, the girls would put the ‘unbreakables’ near the bottom and I’d do the top part.

Grin: I remember a few of the early years when our trees were SO crooked that we’d have to wire them to the window hardware. Otherwise, they’d tip over. We got numerous comments , none of them good.

Pick: We have talked about getting an artificial tree, but then you mentioned the ‘limited space’ in our attic. And I truly love the smell of a real tree. A friend has an artificial one and her son-in-law always walks up to it, takes a good sniff and retorts “Ahh, the smell of dust!” I don’t want that from my son-in-laws. (Not that either would be so crass – ha!)

Grin: And then there is the concern of the ornaments. The ones from your grandmother, for example. If you left them on the tree, you would worry until next year if one would be broken when moved around. So, since we have to take it all down and wrap them, we’ll keep the live tree. But is there any way we can eliminate some of those ornaments?

Pick: Each time I pack and unpack I have fond memories. I remember putting that exact angel on our tree-top at home. She has withstood the test of time. And the bird with the tail-feathers, why, that was my grandmother’s and there is precious little from her.

Grin: That is understandable – you’ll always want to keep that one. But what about these poorly-painted ceramic ornaments.? They are a bit tacky on your classy tree. And we have so many to pack away.

Pick: But don’t you remember these? We made them with the kids when they were about 8 or 9 years old! They are very special to me.

Grin: OK then, but these plastic ones can go. They are out of date and very cheap too!

Pick: Now wait a minute – those are the bottom-of-the-tree ornaments. Nicholas, our youngest grandson can still come over and touch things. You know how I want to be a ‘fun grandma.’ And then if our Westie knocks one off when he strolls past, who cares? You need the lesser ones near the bottom.

Grin: Sounds like you have rationale for every one on this tree. But then, I am not surprised. It is the same with your year-round decorations. Everything has a special memory, or makes you smile to recall where you found it or who gave it to you. Someday, the house will just sink slowly into the ground.

Pick: You exaggerate – there is still room in the basement for a few things and the attic has a bit of room.

Grin: Dear, if you started collecting toothpicks, we’d be in trouble. But let’s get back to the tree.

Pick: It will look so darn empty in this room when it is gone. Can you put up an Easter Tree?

Collections In Old Shoeboxes

I just put an empty shoebox in my son’s room. Why? Because every kid should have empy shoeboxes to fill.

I remember as a kid all the services shoeboxes had.

Some held saved greeting cards, playing cards and jokers, and other bits of ephemera grown-ups needed not to see when they came to supervise room cleaning.

Other boxes held Barbie’s clothes — especially those I made out of hankies and safety pins and whatnot and so could not easily be stored on the hangers in her houses.

My little plastic horses didn’t have fancy play or storage sets, so shoeboxes took care of those needs.

And once I found the coolest blue metallic beetle-bug outside and I kept it in the shoebox under my bed, sorry mom & dad. (Don’t worry; he didn’t get out in the house. He died in there and that made me so sad that from then on I only played with such things on the screened-in sun porch… I bet you remember my inchworm “habitats” — and that each and every inchworm went back outside after I played with them. Lesson of the shoebox bug learned.)

My point is that each shoebox was like a treasure chest, full of a child’s idea of booty. Inside each cardboard container, secrets were kept, preserved, and most important of all — the prizes remained protected from the prying eyes of parents and siblings alike (any of which had their own motives for plundering).

Shoeboxes contained, preserved, and, because they were so innocuously portable, even displayed the tangible relics of our soles souls. Filling your father’s empty shoeboxes was like the antidote for “filling your father’s shoes.” Each box was all about you.

I’ll confess that I’ve saved one such shoebox collection of my own…

It’s not the actual same shoebox I used as a child. But as I down-sized the boxes through the years, these are the bits and bobs I saved… My old playing card jokers; two of my most beloved plastic toy horses , Sugar and Flame; Sugar’s saddle and hitching post; a small horse head I made in art class; and a few other assorted pieces of ephemera. And when I found myself with such a little bit to save, I grabbed the nearest shoebox and I knew my childhood pieces had found their home. (I swear Flame and Sugar whinnied in appreciation!)

My adult self knows that cardboard boxes aren’t the best long term storage solution options for most things aged and fragile, especially paper. But the amazing thing about shoeboxes is their ability to hold, preserve and maintain the memories and all the joyful magic of childhood inside them — no matter how many years pass.

I strongly encourage you to save your shoeboxes. Give them to the children in your lives. And, if you have not already done so, be sure to save a few for yourself.

Make a time capsule of your childhood, start a new secret collection, recapture the joy of collecting in a shoebox.

It’s A Pickle!

My mom found this old pickle cookie cutter and gave it to me for Christmas this year — though first, in the confusion of gift opening, my middle child got it, opened it, and was very confused. (I guess she was the pickle in the middle? lol)

My mom found the cookie cutter out antiquing and knew it would be the perfect gift for me. Not only I am crazy about cookie cutters (and old stuff in general), but it’s a pickle! Pickles are a pretty big thing in our family…

I suppose it starts with the German tradition of hiding a glass pickle ornament on the Christmas tree. It’s such a big deal, that when a young person moves out to live on their own (or at least not with their parents), they are given a glass pickle ornament to hang on their own tree, so that they may continue the tradition.

But then there was the year that my uncle made my sister open like half a dozen wrapped boxes (each empty but wrapped box nested inside the other, like those Russian dolls) just to get to the smallest, final box, open it and find a pickle with a bite taken out of it. Boy, was my six year old sister ticked! And boy did my uncle and I laugh! Ah, good times *sigh*

And then there’s the expression on every one of my kids’ faces the first time they had a pickle — especially when they had insisted they’d like it and struggled not to prove mom was right about the warnings *wink*

Anyway, the pickle is just good fun. So what’s not to love about an antique pickle cookie cutter?

I suspect this old tin cookie cutter to be German in origin — not just because it’s a pickle, but because the Germans have a long history of making cookie cutters. (So maybe my obsession with collecting cookie cutters is a genetic thing?) And I’m guessing it’s at least 100 years old.

Anyway, I love that this antique tin cookie cutter of a pickle has the fluted edge, which gives the pickle cookies authentic spines.

Now, the question is, when I make pickle cookies, should I salt the tops a bit? I’ve at least got to take a bite out of one, and wrap it up in all those boxes for my sister’s next birthday *wink*

I Wish I Had My Grandmother’s Aprons

Many people think of aprons as charming relics from our past, or as evidence of enforced domesticity; but the truth is, aprons have a practical role in modern lives too.

Grandma always said you should be proud of your work around the house; you should be proud to take care of your home and family, and dress to show that pride. While grandma was a lady who liked to dress up, she wasn’t the June Cleaver type who wore pearls while scrubbing out the oven or baking cookies (even at holiday time). But she still believed in being properly & attractively dressed for housework.

One of the staples grandma recommended, naturally, was the apron; and she taught me a lot about them.

Sure, they can be absolutely adorable and therefore bring a smile to your face, but they are incredibly practical. Even the frilly aprons, traditionally called hostess aprons were practical; worn for show, they still offered a place for the hostess to wipe her hands while serving guests. Heck, making aprons even had the advantages of teaching and improving sewing skills. But aprons are more than practical and/or fun.

As my grandmother taught me, aprons are worn with pride to show pride. You should care enough about your clothes to want to protect them, yes; but you should also care enough about yourself to feel good, clean & pretty in a good, clean & pretty apron.

So change your apron often, wash it often, and once it’s served it’s usefulness — including as an attractive garment — stop wearing it.

As for vintage aprons, feel free to wear them — but treat them well. Many vintage handmade aprons are like works of art (at least for those who wouldn’t know how to even sew the pocket on). Avoid washing them in wash machines, or, if you must, at least on the gentle cycle; and let them hang to air dry.

While my grandma taught me a lot about aprons and the values they held, I don’t own any of her aprons… When I buy and hold vintage aprons, I like feeling that connection to my grandma and all the other women who worked to make the aprons, make the meals, make the memories — collecting them makes me feel tied to all their apron strings.

Christmas Trees Have Never Been My Favorite Things

This antique photo of a Christmas tree surrounded by little boys who seem less than thrilled suits me because Christmas trees have never been my favorite things. Primarily because it was our family custom for my father to get the itch to go Christmas tree shopping on the coldest, nastiest day of the year — and my mother, ever-interested in presenting a united parental front, agreed.

So there, in the frozen Christmas tree lot, wind freeze-drying our eyeballs, or feet and hands so cold we nearly prayed they’d get frostbite so they’d actually go numb, my sister and I stood, agreeing with any tree selected to hurry this thing up.

Only it never did.

My parents took their time looking over every tree in the lot. They called it “being selective.” But my sister and I begged to differ (and to go home) as our family’s other Christmas tree tradition was to bring home a tree with severe scoliosis — and a bad side dad would have to hide in the living room corner.

Once our tree was selected it was time to get it home, into the house, and set up. Parental bickering was involved, of course, as mom questioned dad’s desire to break all her holiday knick knacks and he in return wondered why she didn’t understand his simple directions of how to hold the tree while he sawed off branches and fit the trunk into the tree stand.

Then real fun was supposed to begin. But let me tell you, dripping noses and frozen fingers prohibit you from enjoying decorating the tree.

It’s no wonder I wished Christmas trees arrived by Santa’s sleigh too.

When I hit my 20’s, I actually had a beautiful tree selecting experience. My then-boyfriend took me out on the family property — complete with horse in tow — to cut down our own very own little Christmas tree for our apartment.

I giggled with joy over such a charming and comparatively discomfort-free holiday tree selection. On the way back to the car, holding hands with my boyfriend who led the horse, tree trailing behind him, a gentle snow fell to complete the Normal Rockwell imagery and my insides warmed with the romance of it all.

Too bad that relationship ended with more pain and tears than the cumulative hours spent Christmas tree shopping with my folks did.

Since then, I’ve had children. And a divorce. Then a new marriage — with a new daughter. All situations which affect Christmas trees and my affection for them.

Marriages bring debates over conflicting traditions, such as Real Trees Vs. Artificial Ones, just where the tree should be placed, when and how to trim the tree — including whether or not tinsel can be used.

Children bring ornaments. By the truckload. Each child has multiple Baby’s First Year ornaments, packed in layers of tissues with of all the ornaments they’ve made through the years.

My husband, ever the packrat, has all his old childhood ornaments, set aside and saved for him all these years by his loving mother.

Which means every year my Christmas tree looks more like the cliched family art gallery refrigerator than the holiday tree of my dreams.

Among the complications of a blended family like ours at holiday time, are the sheer number of ornaments. Since we both were single parents for a number of years, we each had more than enough ornaments for one tree — and now they’re combined. The only preferential treatment my fancy themed ornaments get is to remain safely tucked into their boxes, saved for that future One Day.

You know, that one day when my children are older and I give them the boxes of their ornaments I livingly saved for them… Then I can have a fancy designer styled tree.

Only thing is, I’ll probably miss my cluttered Christmas tree, that literal mess of memories, and the stories each ornament had.

No, Christmas trees have never been my favorite things; but they do contain memories and they are decorated in stories.

Vintage Christmas photos via The Antique Christmas Lights Museum.

Christmas Decorations: Why We Make Him Carry All Those Boxes From The Attic

Unpacking delicate vintage glass ornaments, untangling glowing orbs of flickering light, placing winter village scenes just so, divided camps of garland vs tinsel, and don’t forget the tradition of tree topper placement. Some believe less is more (those weird freaks!), and others (like me!) believe holiday is the time of year to go all out. But no matter what our design style, we all deck those halls.

We decorate our homes in the right fashion & in the established order as dictated to us by tradition.

And by “tradition” I mean the stuff that mothers and wives say.

We women get away with all of this for many reasons. After all, it’s usually the women who rule the roost, so it’s we who decorate the roost. We choose between real & artificial trees. We direct the placement of the tree – based on the ability of it to be best seen by those inside & outside of the home, with a dose of practicality to household traffic pattern. We tend to be the ones with the largest collection of ornaments, ceramic villages, and other family historical objects & know the importance & lore of each object as well.

Women tend to be the keepers of family history. The story keepers. We remember whose ornament is whose, the when & why, and we need to balance the old memories of our ancestors with the newer stories of our own families. Not only do we remember the stories, but we also, and this is perhaps the most important part of it all, we share those stories.

And in order to share those stories, we know that there must be proper placement. For how else can we bring up the funny stories of ice skating gone bad, if the winter pond scene isn’t displayed? How can we discuss the history of Uncle Marvin’s elf collection, if the elves are not displayed properly? Without seeing great grandma’s tree skirt, no one can mention how lovely it is, and then we might forget to tell the story of her first Christmas in America.

The physical placement of objects & ornaments is directly tied to our oral traditions.

So it seems only natural that at the holidays, a time of family & tradition, that women give all the dictation on the decoration. This goes here, that goes there, use the angel – not the star, just a little more to the left please. More lights, less lights, all white lights.

If you don’t want the oral tradition to include the tale of the year there was no presentation of Marvin’s elves (a story to be repeated each & every year), you’ll just carry & tote, move & remove, then, yes, then get out of the way & let her do her holiday thing.

Now please bring down those other 8 boxes marked ‘Holiday’ from the attic, honey – we must begin to set up the Winter Wonderland on the console table behind the couch (which will now have to be moved to better appreciate the view of the tree). Everything must be just so.

And some folks already began in October, so we are late.

Images via Snapdragon Antiques.