Chrismakuh Decorating

There are two ways to go down a ladder. The first, the normal way, is by climbing down step by step. It's safe and comfortable. The second is more dangerous and yet way more fun. Rather than stepping down, place your feet outside the ladder, gripping the two outer bars. While keeping your hands also loosely on the outer bars, slide down gracefully. I typically climb down the second way and year after year it always manages to scare my father.

I learned it from circus performances. When rigging on the frame, hanging the trapeze bars, cloud swings and other apparatuses up, sometimes we had less than a minute to get back down to the ground before the act started. So rather than climbing down the ladder step by step, we slid. The audience, if watching, always seemed to appreciate it.

And so, as I exited the hot, dark and very cramped attic, I slid down and my dad yelled, "Lauren. Can't you climb like a normal person?"

While in college, the tradition of me getting the many green and red and blue and yellow tupperware boxes from the attic started. My father was suffering from medical problems so rather than sending him up, I bravely climbed. The thing about our attic is that there's only so much crouching space. If you lean too far to one side, your back on the garage floor with a nice hole in the ceiling to show for your efforts. So every Thanksgiving, while home from school, I used the strength I had and climbed.

I've always loved setting up the holiday decorations. Ever since I was a child, it was one of my favorite days of the year. Back in New York, it was the time that Justin and I were able to actually walk into the living room. Sectioned off from the rest of the house, the living room contained a large couch, the china cabinet, a coffee table and that was it. We were never allowed to go into it because our grimy hands contained germs that might infect the couch's slumber (at least that's what I figured). But during the holidays, oh, we were allowed to go inside. The tree, large and majestic, was set up in the middle of the room, allowing Santa plenty of space to arrange our many sparkling presents.

Nowadays, the tree isn't as large, a mere 5 foot fake tree, and there isn't a sectioned off room. Instead, we set it up in the small entry room at my parents house. And although the tree isn't huge, it's absolutely perfect in that Charlie Brown sort of way. We decorate it with the same ornaments every year. Souvenirs from each part of life - a hockey one for Justin, a Barbie one for me, a golf one for my dad and a disco ball for my mom. There are even puppy ornaments for both Oreo and Jetta. Our tree is never perfect and never department store window worthy, but it's home. It's erratic and tinseled, it's thrown together, but it's full of memories and love.

I'm very particular about my decorations. Assuring that every knickknack saved since I was two is somehow displayed in the house, I run around madly all day placing each snowman, each dreidel and each toy solider in its correct place. My dad and puppy follow, sometimes lost in my hurricane wind force.

The menorah is always placed in the front window. As a child my mom was afraid that I'd burn myself on a real menorah, so she bought an electric one. Rather than lighting each candle, every night I'd tightened the orange bulb to make it glow. (Ancestors were cursing us from their graves, screaming complaints about how the essence of Chanukah is in the candle wax.) Since then we've gotten authentic menorahs, ones with Chanukah candles and sayings, however we still favor the lack of authenticity and originality of the electric one.

With Jetta in his elf costume, I arrange the stuffed animals on the couch. All the boys are out this time of year: Snoopy, Rudolf, Frosty, Abearham and Strauss. The Nutcrackers have their place on the side table by the nativity scene. And the statue of a motorcycle rider high on a shelf, from dad's time riding a Harley Davidson, is dressed in a Santa hat and Shalom sign. All the while the Rat Pack, Elvis, the Muppets and the cast of South Park sing us songs from the stereo.

I slide down the ladder each year because it's easier, but also because I get down quicker. It gets me to my decorations quickly. Like the five year old I once was, my eyes still twinkle in the lights from the tree. There's some sort of magic this time of year, and although it's all pushed aside by many for the bigger and better toys, I find comfort in the fact that it's still there in the round ornaments and worn out Santa statue. In the nutcracker missing a hat and the snowman mug. It's still there.