Today’s blog
Lynn Murphy Mark
Pride and the falls
I was at work yesterday and a co-worker was packing some things to send to her mom in Atlanta. She was on her lunch hour, if that matters. One of the things she was sending was a big gingerbread house kit. She says her mom is very artistic and will probably love putting it together and decorating it. I kept looking at the box, as a memory wiggled itself into consciousness.
I used to hang out with a friend who had 6 boys and an unruly red setter named Maggie and for whom the holidays were an excellent time to actually do the fun things like cookie making and holiday shopping for her boys. Her husband is Jewish, so they also celebrated the days of Hanukkah. Her house was decorated as soon as Thanksgiving was in the books. She was also involved in Christmas preparations at her church. She was one busy woman, juggling all this while working full time as a nurse manager.
I remember one year when either she or her husband insisted on getting a huge Christmas tree. There was no room for an ornament at the top, because the top grazed the ceiling. Down came the tree from the stand so some adjustments that required a saw could be made. Finally it was sized “down” to fit in the room and the hanging of the ornaments began. The tree was so big that it took several hours and a ladder to get everything in exactly the right place. O Tannenbaum, indeed. Everyone in the house admired the beautifully decorated masterpiece and then filed into the dining room for dinner.
Sometime after the first course the tree decided it was not balanced correctly and down she came. We all heard the crash and raced into the living room to find her lying gracefully on the floor. Then followed a long discussion about who had not properly placed the tree in the stand. It took all of us to lift the tree up and back into an upright position. Miraculously, only a few ornaments were broken. Needless to say, there were plenty more to add.
It was a beautiful tree, but it was also determined not to stay upright. I think it came down two more times before the holidays were over. Finally there was no one left to blame about the size of the tree and how it might have been a tad too big. The emphasis went on how to pile the gifts for 6 boys, two adults, and some extended family members, around the base.
But the real point of this story is about a gingerbread house. My friend and I signed up to take a class at the local grocery store about how to build an edible house. We sent away for the biggest kit we could find, unaware that the class would only cover the basics about how to put cookies together and hold them in place with frosting. The first night of class we proudly unpacked all of the pieces of gingerbread that we had baked. Everyone else had ordered much smaller kits and their progress was a little faster than ours. Nevertheless we persisted in building our mansion. Secretly we looked down on the other people as they put together what could have been a nice carriage house for our behemoth.
Our classmates kept looking at us out of the sides of their eyes as we struggled to piece everything together. Frosting was our glue. The kit had lots of little pieces of candy to make the house even more magical. On the second night of class we were still decorating as our classmates finished their little shacks. Finally everything was in its place and our creation was magnificent. The instructor commended all of us on our efforts and said we could take our houses home.
Now, our house was carefully balanced on a sheet of cardboard and it took both of us to carefully lift it and start carrying it out. The other people waited patiently behind us as we approached the door. Just as we left the classroom, the whole house disintegrated into a pile of construction debris. Our classmates clucked their sympathies but couldn’t hide their smiles as they carried their still standing houses into the cold night. Thus ends the story of pride and the falls.