Wednesday, December 31, 2014

SILVER MAGIC by CHERYL PIERSON

Several years ago, I had just sold my first short story to Adams Media's Rocking Chair Reader series. I was on Cloud 9! This story, SILVER MAGIC, was the 2nd story I sold to them and would appear in their first Christmas collection, Classic Christmas: True Stories of Holiday Cheer and Goodwill. I want to share it with you here. This story is true, and is one of the most poignant tales I could ever tell about my grandfather--he died when I was eleven. I never saw this side of him, and I don't think very many people did--that's what makes this Christmas story so special. I look forward to your comments!




SILVER MAGIC by Cheryl Pierson

Did you know that there is a proper way to hang tinsel on the Christmas tree?

Growing up in the small town of Seminole, Oklahoma, I was made aware of this from my earliest memories of Christmas. Being the youngest in our family, there was never a shortage of people always wanting to show me the right way to do—well, practically everything! When it came to hanging the metallic strands on the Christmas tree, my mother made it a holiday art form.

“The cardboard holder should be barely bent,” she said, “forming a kind of hook for the tinsel.” No more than three strands of the silver magic should be pulled from this hook at one time. And, we were cautioned, the strands should be draped over the boughs of the tree gently, so as to avoid damage to the fragile greenery.

Once the icicles had been carefully added to the already-lit-and-decorated tree, we would complete our “pine princess” with a can of spray snow. Never would we have considered hanging the icicles in blobs, as my mother called them, or tossing them haphazardly to land where they would on the upper, unreachable branches. Hanging them on the higher branches was my father’s job, since he was the tallest person I knew—as tall as Superman, for sure. He, too, could do anything—even put the serenely blinking golden star with the blonde angel on the very highest limb—without a ladder!

Once Christmas was over, I learned that there was also a right way to save the icicles before setting the tree out to the roadside for the garbage man. The cardboard holders were never thrown out. We kept them each year, tucked away with the rest of the re-useable Christmas decorations. Their shiny treasure lay untangled and protected within the corrugated Bekins Moving and Storage boxes that my mother had renamed “CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS” in bold letters with a black magic marker.

At the end of the Christmas season, I would help my sisters undress the tree and get it ready for its lonely curbside vigil. We would remove the glass balls, the plastic bells, and the homemade keepsake decorations we’d made in school. These were all gently placed in small boxes. The icicles came next, a chore we all detested.

We removed the silver tinsel and meticulously hung it back around the little cardboard hook. Those icicles were much heavier then, being made of real metal and not synthetic plastic. They were easier to handle and, if you were careful, didn’t snarl or tangle. It was a long, slow process—one that my young, impatient hands and mind dreaded.

For many years, I couldn’t understand why everyone—even my friends’ parents’—insisted on saving the tinsel from year to year. Then one night, in late December, while Mom and I gazed at the Christmas tree, I learned why.

As she began to tell the story of her first Christmas tree, her eyes looked back through time. She was a child in southeastern Oklahoma, during the dustbowl days of the Depression. She and her siblings had gotten the idea that they needed a Christmas tree. The trekked into the nearby woods, cut down an evergreen, and dragged it home. While my grandfather made a wooden stand for it, the rest of the family popped and strung corn for garland. The smaller children made decorations from paper and glue.

“What about a star?” one of the younger boys had asked.

My grandfather thought for a moment, then said, “I’ve got an old battery out there in the shed. I’ll cut one from that.”

The kids were tickled just to have the tree, but a star, too! It was almost too good to be true.

Grandfather went outside. He disappeared around the side of the old tool shed and didn’t return for a long time. Grandma glanced out the window a few times, wondering what was taking so long, but the children were occupied with stringing the popcorn and making paper chains. They were so excited that they hardly noticed when he came back inside.

Grandmother turned to him as he shut the door against the wintry blast of air. “What took you so long?” she asked. “I was beginning to get worried.”

Grandfather smiled apologetically, and held up the star he’d fashioned. “It took me awhile. I wanted it to be just right.” He slowly held up his other hand, and Grandmother clapped her hands over her mouth in wonder. Thin strands of silver magic cascaded in a shimmering waterfall from his loosely clenched fist. “It’s a kind of a gift, you know. For the kids.”

“I found some foil in the battery,” he explained. “It just didn’t seem right, not to have icicles.”

In our modern world of disposable commodities, can any of us imagine being so poor that we would recycle an old battery for the metal and foil, in order to hand-cut a shiny star and tinsel for our children’s Christmas tree?

A metal star and cut-foil tinsel—bits of Christmas joy, silver magic wrapped in a father’s love for his family.

I know Christmas is over, but this is a fantastic little anthology you might enjoy any time of year. If you'd like to read the wonderful stories in this collection, here's the link at Amazon. This is a true "bargain" at only $5.18 for a new copy!

AMAZON LINK: http://www.amazon.com/Classic-Christmas-Stories-Holiday-Goodwill/dp/B001QCX1NO/ref=la_B002JV8GUE_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1416118651&sr=1-3

14 comments:

  1. Oh, my goodness! What a family treasure, both the tinsel and the story. Welcome back, Cheryl!

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    1. Thanks, Vonn! I'm glad to be home! LOL I've decided I'm a homebody--not a traveler anymore.

      I wish so much now that I'd listened more to my mom's stories of growing up--I was the youngest in the family though, and by the time I got old enough to REALLY appreciate them, her mind was slipping. But thankfully, I've written a lot of the stories down. This is one of my favorites.

      Cheryl

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  2. What a wonderful man he must have been. You come from good stock, Cheryl.

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    1. Aw, thanks, Frank. My grandparents on both sides really had a hardscrabble life. They called my granddad (the one in this story) "Doc" all his life because of his penchant for taking care of animals when they were injured or sick. So many good stories--my mom was the oldest of 11 kids and she really had a wonderful memory for everything until her mid 70's or so.
      Cheryl

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  3. These are the stories that bring home the true meaning of the season and the rest of the year. A moving story that I am so glad you shared. Doris

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    1. Thanks, Doris, I'm glad to share--I have so many other stories Mom told me--and ones that Dad told--though he wasn't as much of a talker as Mom was. One day, I'd love to write them all down.
      Cheryl

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  4. Cheryl,

    I think we all have similar memories making this story universal. Ahh, memories and nostalgia, what makes life worth living.

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    1. You are so right, Charlie! So many good memories of childhood and especially Christmases in my growing up years--I also treasure the stories Mom told me about her growing up and their meager little Christmases--how an orange was SUCH a huge treat back then, and hard candy was heaven.
      Cheryl

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  5. Beautiful story for the last days of the holiday season, and a great reminder that the most precious gifts are the least expensive.

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    1. Thanks, Kirsten--Mom grew up in the Oklahoma Dustbowl days of the Great Depression, so you can only imagine how very dirt poor they were, but there were some exceptional moments, like this one, that really stood out.
      Cheryl

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  6. Wonderful story, Cheryl. It reminds me of my mom telling me of their Christmases and how thrilled they were to awaken and find Santa had left them a couple of oranges and a candy cane in their stocking. That was the extent of their Christmas gifts.
    On an unrelated note, does anyone remember in the fifties when they used asbestos powder as fake snow?

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  7. Asbestos? YIKES! I bet we had some of that in our house! Mom always loved fake snow--whatever form it was in--and I remember how she "flocked" our trees with that spray snow in a can--not even sure you can still buy that anymore.

    She said each of the girls in her family got a doll for Christmas if possible each year--I think that's why she made sure the three of us girls always got a doll.

    Cheryl

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  8. Thank you for the lovely Christmas story! I love old family tales like this. We lose so much when our elders pass on.

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    1. I agree, JES! My mom sure had some vivid tales of growing up--the trials and tribulations--I don't believe she ever had much of a childhood, being the eldest of 11 kids. I don't normally make New Year's resolutions, but I'm thinking I might this year--to write down everything I can remember her telling me throughout my life about her own childhood.
      Cheryl

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