As a longtime Beatles fan, I tearfully shopped the following morning for a Christmas ornament to mark this heartbreaking loss. What by chance fell into my hands was a small, wooden cuckoo clock that I could fix the time of John’s passing and put a remembrance message on it as well. That clock has hung on the Christmas tree every year for 40 years and will again this year. But for the past 27 years it’s carried a special magic.
On Dec. 3, 1994, I flew from Virginia to Stamford, Connecticut, to attend a Beatles Convention, where this clock ornament would make its way to special guest Cynthia Powell Lennon, first wife of John Lennon and mother of his first son, Julian. I photographed her on stage as she gave a wonderful presentation. When my turn to meet her arose, she graciously signed the roof of the cuckoo clock — seemingly understanding the meaning and importance of this unusual request. She has since passed and, unfortunately, our photo together was lost because of my error in not advancing the film in our Minolta. However, I will always have very fond memories of Cynthia as well as this precious ornament with her signature that is kept in a glass case until Christmas each year.
Without traditional ornaments being available because of the war, my parents faced the challenge of how to decorate a tree for my sister, their first child, who was just understanding the excitement of Christmas. Luckily, a dress pattern company (back when women made clothes from packaged, tissue paper-printed patterns) produced a set of patterns for handmade wooden Christmas ornaments. Using simple pine wood and a coping saw, and lots of paint, my father cut and painted the 21 ornaments for the tree.
The faces, smiles and the love that was expressed in their crafting became a treasured part of every Christmas since my father made them in 1943. I remember as a child seeing the smiles on the animals and Santa, and imagined the thoughts that each character was contemplating. Perhaps there was a happy secret that would be revealed Christmas morning! These ornaments followed us halfway around the world as we celebrated Christmas each year. As I look on the ornaments now, those faces evoke the memories of the many happy Christmases that I shared with my parents, my siblings, my wife, my children and now my grandchildren.
Fortunately, one Christmas, when my father was 94 years old, my wife had him sign them. These cherished ornaments remind me of the many happy memories of over 75 years of celebrations and are the only items my father ever made.
As I came out of my haze, I instinctively called my two Marys. They counseled and nurtured me, got me in the proper frame of mind and were with me physically or in spirit during my fight against Stage 4 bone cancer. Through it all, both said, “You know, if I could switch places with you, I would.” I would smile and say, “No, not wishing this journey on anyone.” With their love and support — along with that of my father, family members, friends and a plethora of phenomenal doctors and nurses — the disease was beaten.
Within the next 10 years, both Marys started their own battles with cancer. Despite our love and the best medical care, both died — within a month of each other, in 2005. It was a devastating time. Inevitably, the thought soon came: People with Stage 4 don’t usually survive. I did. Within a decade of my diagnosis, both Marys had died from the same disease. They switched places with me. Logically, that’s not how it works. Cancer doesn’t negotiate; it just happens. But on those nights where your mind wanders, it is hard for the idea not to take hold. As my wife and I shopped for Christmas ornaments that season, I saw this little angel. She had cheeks like my mother’s and hair like my sister’s when she wore her wig. Then I saw it was a Hallmark Mary’s Angel. A warmth filled my heart.
Mary’s angel has held a place of honor on our tree. It not only reminds us of my mother and sister who watch over us from Heaven, but it also reminds us that life is a precious gift. A gift meant to be cherished each day and lived to the fullest as my mom and sister did.
This year I was hanging ornaments on our tiny tree and Ian paused and pointed at one. He said, “meh” which is his word approximation for “me” or “mine” (or sometimes “minion” since they are beloved by him). Yet this year, it was clear he associated something Christmas with himself. The ornament was a thumbprint reindeer created by Ian with the help of his teachers at the Peninsula School at The Faison Center in Newport News. What does Ian like a lot? School. And his amazing teachers. Every year the teachers at this small school help Ian create an ornament. After seeing the ornament, Ian lingered by the tree. He watched me pull out others including a beaded candy cane, a glittery glass globe, one with his face glued onto the front and several other personalized ornaments. He smiled. A big smile. This silly reindeer thumbprint hangs amid other colorful, store-bought ornaments. This one, however, is a reminder that it’s the small things in life that make the greatest difference.
On Christmas Eve, Jose Brown with the Secret Service called. He found the ornament. So many ornaments had arrived from across the United States that Clinton chose some for the family tree in their private quarters; mine was one. I sent Jose some ornaments I had made as a thank you. Several weeks later, I received a package from him. He acknowledged my gift with an official 1993 White House ornament depicting the Blue Room tree. Since 1993, that ornament has received a spotlight on our family tree. When I look at it, I am still amazed at the chain reaction set in motion by the initial request. It’s a wonderful reminder of a serendipitous adventure.
Though we have many other special ornaments, this one always goes on last, with great ceremony.
She never traveled without her craft kit and we are thankful for that, as who knew there were so many colors of yarn. In those years, she made hundreds of ornaments that we proudly display every holiday season. Edna is no longer with us but every Christmas we decorate, dedicate and designate one tree (sometimes two) as the “Edna” tree and decorate it with her homemade ornaments. Thank you, Edna, for the many, many years of memories.
Santa’s head was made using an aluminum pop tab from canned goods and the little drummer boy is an old clothespin.
