Dan's Papers - December 21, 2007

North Forkers Look For The Fine Line Between Saving Old Gifts Or Tossing Them Out

You know you should toss it out. A cardboard disc the size of a hamburger, painted green with half a dozen pieces of gold-flecked elbow macaroni glued on, clinging for dear life. Dear life is right. This thing on a string has been in the family for 40 Christmas trees. Since the oldest son was in kindergarten. Remember the day he came home from school and told you he made something special for the Christmas tree? How you admired it, and hugged him. "It's beautiful, David. We'll keep it forever."

Is forever now? Why, we don't even have a live tree anymore. We set up a little ceramic tree, surround it with pinecones and then sit back, decorating done, and toast the season with some homemade eggnog.

So what becomes of those decorations made by the kids so many years ago? Well, some hang from lamps, others from picture frames, still others decorate the mantel. No way can even one be discarded. That would violate family itself.

Is it like this in other North Fork homes during the holidays? Boxes of stuff appear from the attic, the basement, the garage. Where to put the child's, the grandchild's tiny-fingered gifts of love?

Ask around and you'll evoke smiles, laughter, even a few tears. For example, Cutchogue's Janet Moore smiles as she tells of two crystal ornaments, dark blue and dark green, she inherited from her great-grandmother. There was a gold ornament, too, but a certain Dalmatian named Taylor ate it a number of years ago.

Janet, affection in her voice, told me of the many child-made ornaments she'd never part with. Janet worked in a Setauket grade school and each Christmas little hands offered love and ornament-gifts to their very own Mrs. Moore.

Yes, the kids used macaroni, clay, tinsel, tissue paper, cotton, felt, ribbon, buttons, twigs, tiny candy canes, pinecones - all the things they found in their homes and backyards. Their creativity was exceeded only by their excitement. And Janet's appreciation.

In Riverhead each December, Tom and Gail Maltese climb to their attic and bring down boxes of ornaments. The most carefully transported box, said Gail, contains the "dough collection."

Years ago the three Maltese children - Chuck, Barbara and Christina - sat down at the kitchen table one December and had a real good time with glue and a bag of flour. When I heard about this I knew Gail was the mother kids dream of. If my three kids wanted glue and flour it would have to be outside the house in July. When I could hose 'em off.

The recipe for dough ornaments is simple, though messy. You combine glue and flour and shape the sticky globs into something recognizable - perhaps an angel, a sheep, a few birds. Then get a piece of wire, three or four inches long, loop it and jab the two pointy ends into the dough. As Gail spoke I debated asking her if the kids were maybe putting their hands in their hair or getting up and running from the kitchen to the bathroom. Floury footprints all over the place.

The dough ornaments must be baked at moderate heat for whatever time it takes them to harden. In the meantime, vacuum and sponge-clean the kitchen.

Remove the ornaments from the oven and let them cool. Gail's kids painted them in bright colors, finishing them off with a coat of clear nail polish. Truthfully, the only thing clear to me was it's easier to buy the decorations at Santa's Christmas Tree Farm in Cutchogue.

Did Tom and Gail ever consider discarding the dough ornaments? Well, there was one time. After an exceptionally warm summer and fall, the parents made the journey to the attic and found the ornaments had "grown." That is, some had split and some were moldy. No matter. Imperfections were overlooked and the ornaments have, said Gail, "brought joy every year." Maybe like people. You gotta overlook some imperfections and allow them to gift you with joy.

Once again, it's late December. Light struggles with dark even as we struggle to keep on going, believing another spring will come. On the North Fork, as we unpack the ornaments of yesteryears, we observe a rite that ornaments our very lives, lightens our hearts, renews our belief. We are ready.