December 25, 2013
Wednesday

Christmas—that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance, a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.
— Augusta E. Rundel, whoever she was

The annual hits to Markings on the two pieces in which I have quoted the mysterious Augusta E. Rundel have peaked. The only returns a Google search gives are to collections of Christmas quotations that include the idea of the magic blanket of nostalgia, and to blog posts like mine that use it. She may have been a woman who was born in Germany in the 1880s and died in Los Angeles in 1930. The diction and the tone of the quotation might naturally spring from someone who emigrated to a new land in the first half of the 20th century and found herself in sunny southern California, far from the picture-perfect snowy Bavarian village of her childhood. I’ve found no indication of who she was as a writer and where she might have made the assertion that’s quoted endlessly this time of year.

Last week I bought a Lenox ornament marked “Annual 2013,” pictured at left, continuing the tradition that I began with our first Christmas together in 1983. When we put up and decorated the tree for the first time since 2010, I found an empty box that had contained the Lenox 2012 silver bell ornament, but not the ornament. I have no idea where it is, what I did with it last year.

I don’t give Lynn a new Lenox every year anymore. They don’t fit her style, especially when combined with her new husband’s preference for only colored balls on a tree. I wasn’t going to get one for us this year, since the fact that last year’s has gone fugitive suggests the tradition is no longer meaningful for us.

But then I walked into Macy’s one day because I actually needed a certain utilitarian item of clothing, and everything was sparkling, and Brenda Lee’s voice was rockin’ out of the overhead speakers, and the housewares department where the ornaments are is right there beside lingerie and . . . The bride and groom reminded me of the signal event of 2013 in this family — Lynn’s hair is not that long but the gown looks a little like hers — so I decided to buy it, and make it my last official Lenox ornament.

Lynn and Matt were here yesterday. The ornament was still in its box, waiting to be hung officially, and when Lynn saw it she thought it was for her. Well, no, but I’d be happy to get her one.

Our time together was everything I wanted it to be, and by 2:00 they were on their way to Matt’s aunt’s house in Maryland for the Seven Fishes Vigilia meal. And I went out in search of the Lenox ornament.

I went to three stores without finding one, and when it’s put that way, it sounds like a frustrating and disappointing errand. But it wasn’t. Moving through the stores, I felt wrapped in joy and good will. My travels took me through neighborhoods where I have felt love and welcome from time to time in these six and a half decades of my life. I lingered in front of some of the houses, remembering. Then I came home, said some words to the close and holy darkness, and listened to music all evening with Ron.

Today is my magic blanket day. You, reading this, you’re in one of the folds. Merry Christmas.