When the holidays roll around there are certain things that come out of the basement and appear around the house every year. And if they didn’t, we would notice their absence. The Christmas china, the holly bowl for red hots, the wreath for the front door and the porcelain manger scene.
One fated evening in December of 1989, my brother and I tried our best to preserve one of those treasured family pieces. My parents had gone out to finish up some Christmas shopping, and I was old enough for them to leave my younger brother and me home alone for a short time. What ensued what a systematic search around the house for hidden presents, some random bickering, illicit snacking and cookie eating, and an intense game of catch that involved a tennis ball and our living room.
Cut to the moment where one toss goes astray. The manger scene is scattered on the side table. Baby Jesus is no longer laying peacefully in his swaddling clothes and the lowing cattle are now grazing in new pastures. Accusations fly. Blame is placed. And then fear grips us. Joseph is lying on the floor. And his head is still on the table.
Oh. NO.
Mom and Dad are going to be home soon. Quick, where’s the glue gun? Yes, the glue gun that I was not allowed to play with much less even plug in. I directed my brother (who is all of 8 years old) to hold Joseph’s head JUST SO after I’ve done careful surgery involving the glue gun and toothpicks. We cleaned the scene, even vacuumed to belie the fact that we had ever stepped into the living room, and finished it all in time to hear the garage door open.
Since Brad and I both had little capacity for deceit at that point in our lives, I’m sure one of us confessed pretty quickly concerning our cover-up.
It’s been something that we’ve joked about over the years, and it turns out that the instruction in glue gun use came in handy for my brother 8 years later for an incident involving my parents visiting me at college, a raging house party, and a broken boxwood bush along the front walkway.
And, after all these years, Joseph has managed to keep his head on straight.
Friday, December 19, 2008
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1 Remarks:
I can clearly see this unfold as you describe the scenario. My own two children didn't try to repair the collector plate they broke in similar fashion many years ago because there were too many pieces. Leslie did, however, draw a pencil sketch replica on notebook paper that I treasure to this day.
Merry Christmas, Melissa. We love you! :)
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