It may have been around 1944. On a previous Christmas my mother (Ada Campioni) had decorated a very small tree. I can remember it well. It was only about a foot high and had a wooden cube for a stand, which was white with colored bells and candles painted on.
The decorations were glass globes of silver or gold color. Some were half-globes with
the hollow side painted in shiny colors of red, blue, and silver. (I still have the last one which survived my playing with them as a child.)That was the same tree that my mother set up for me in June one year, when I was ill with the
measles. That helped me so much to take my mind of my discomfort.
This particular year I so much wanted a real tree. Naturally, my dad “Baffi” was against buying something so expensive, especially since one could not eat a Christmas tree. In later years I realized that he was right. His entire life was devoted to feeding his family. Now at my age, I appreciate him all the more for his choices.
After a short session of grumbling about my request, he took a walk to the top of the hill North of our house.
(near the present site of the University of California, Santa Cruz) He returned with a few mushrooms and
a Redwood branch. “That’s no Christmas tree!” I wailed. “Be quiet and watch.” was my mother’s suggestion.
She produced some thread, and carefully tied the branches, which all grew in the same plane, as Redwoods do.
She pulled them into a spiral shape, and fastened them in place. When that tree received its ornaments, it was
a work of art! I got over my dislike of a redwood tree. Indeed it is the only Christmas tree which I have remembered
for my entire life. It was not so much the tree itself, but that my father had taken the time to do me such a much appreciated favor. I have told this story to some local friends, one of which said, “He must have loved you a lot.” He did indeed.
the hollow side painted in shiny colors of red, blue, and silver. (I still have the last one which survived my playing with them as a child.)That was the same tree that my mother set up for me in June one year, when I was ill with the
measles. That helped me so much to take my mind of my discomfort.
This particular year I so much wanted a real tree. Naturally, my dad “Baffi” was against buying something so expensive, especially since one could not eat a Christmas tree. In later years I realized that he was right. His entire life was devoted to feeding his family. Now at my age, I appreciate him all the more for his choices.
After a short session of grumbling about my request, he took a walk to the top of the hill North of our house.
(near the present site of the University of California, Santa Cruz) He returned with a few mushrooms and
a Redwood branch. “That’s no Christmas tree!” I wailed. “Be quiet and watch.” was my mother’s suggestion.
She produced some thread, and carefully tied the branches, which all grew in the same plane, as Redwoods do.
She pulled them into a spiral shape, and fastened them in place. When that tree received its ornaments, it was
a work of art! I got over my dislike of a redwood tree. Indeed it is the only Christmas tree which I have remembered
for my entire life. It was not so much the tree itself, but that my father had taken the time to do me such a much appreciated favor. I have told this story to some local friends, one of which said, “He must have loved you a lot.” He did indeed.
Saluti e Buon Natale, Gino
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IVANO SAYS: Thanks Gino for reminding us what Christmas is really about. Merry Christmas everybody e Sempre Avanti.
IVANO SAYS: Thanks Gino for reminding us what Christmas is really about. Merry Christmas everybody e Sempre Avanti.