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Page A4 The Joan De Arc Crusader / Saturday, December 25, 2010 Front Page A1 / Editorials A2 / Nostalgia A3 / Crossword A5
O Christmas Tree, on Joan De Arc by J. Bueker December 1963. My lone recollection of that first Joan De Arc Christmas rests upon a winsome little holiday tree project with which my classmates and I were tasked in my kindergarten class at Larkspur Community Church. My childhood Christmas tree memories begin, and in a sense end, precisely here. Our teacher, Mrs. Williams, led us outside the classroom one crisp morning to a large, long-vanished thorny shrub that was withering along 33rd Ave. near the church. She directed us each to break off a suitably sized branch, about a foot in length, to bring back to the classroom for the big yuletide project.
Incidentally, I’m quite ambivalent about the
ultimate effects of this act of bio-vandalism on the poor plant; I do hope it
survived. But then again, it’s not there anymore, is Anyhow, back in class we spray painted our branches a festive shade of gold and then impaled them in a small mound of green clay in which we embedded a variety of small colored pebbles. A few well-placed miniature ornaments later, and voilà. Instant Xmas tree. For almost the entire time we lived on the street, I insisted on breaking out this goofy little “tree” each December and displaying it in our living room. Even after the clay foundation fell off and disappeared some years later, I devised a small platform for the thing from a piece of cardboard so I could perpetuate the tradition. No doubt I perceived some resemblance between my shabby little twig and the sweetly pathetic tree that Charlie Brown saved and nurtured in "A Charlie Brown Christmas." As I grew older and became a little more self-conscious about such things, I began placing my kindergarten Christmas tree in the less conspicuous location of my bedroom each year at holiday time. I guess I viewed it as my own personal Christmas tree and this idea carried a considerable and enduring power for me. Or maybe I’m just a sentimental sap. Take your pick. I sometimes wonder if any of my old kindergarten classmates, after all these years, have managed to hang on to their little 1963 kindergarten Christmas tree. I would indeed envy them. Yes, I wish I still had the damn thing. I imagine our notions of what constitutes a proper Christmas tree are probably formed at a very early age, tradition being the very essence of Christmas. The customs of acquiring and decorating the family Christmas tree each year have become so deeply ingrained into our culture that few now even question the wisdom of taking a freshly killed sapling and keeping it indoors for weeks on end until it becomes a significant fire hazard. One nice thing about my little kindergarten tree was that it was exceedingly unlikely to catch fire and burn the house down. Few Christmas memories shine more radiantly for me than the annual journey over the hills and through the woods to Grandmother’s house for the family Christmas Eve party. Okay, there weren’t any actual mountains or forests involved; it was pretty much a straight shot down the Black Canyon Freeway to Northern Ave. But the excitement generated by Christmas Eve at Grandma and Grandpa Swaggerty’s house each December 24th was nevertheless of a peculiar richness and intensity, and the Christmas tree at these events was always extraordinary. Over the years, Grandma Lois had developed an exceptional fondness for “angel hair,” a once popular Christmas tree adornment that now seems to have faded precipitously in popularity. A wispy and translucent tree covering made from spun glass, angel hair produces a lovely halo effect in conjunction with the Christmas tree lights located directly below it. The trade-off of course is the reduced visibility of the other tree decorations, and indeed the tree itself, concealed beneath its tenuous, cotton candy-like veneer. Angel hair lent a distinctive character to the Swaggerty tree and to the Christmas Eve gathering in general. This was the only setting in which my siblings and I saw a tree so adorned, and we always marveled at the sight. It made the tree look a bit like it had been stored in a dusty old warehouse for about fifty years and set upon by a highly enterprising family of spiders. Even now, 40 years hence, I can rarely resist the urge to drive by the old Swaggerty house whenever I happen to be in the general vicinity. It still looks pretty much the same, as does the entire neighborhood. As I cruise by, I'm standing in that living room once more, gazing upon the ethereal angel hair Christmas tree and munching down a few more of those legendary powdered rum balls. Sigh. Well, we didn't have angel hair back at 3219. Our mom did not share her mother's affinity for the stuff, likening it to a sort of "cocoon." But the procurement and decoration of the Bueker Christmas tree were always regarded as matters of the highest importance. We typically obtained our tree each year from neighborhood grocers like A.J. Bayless and later FedMart. Shopping for the tree was naturally an exciting event in itself, with the car journey conversation typically dominated by an absolutely pointless debate regarding the comparative virtues of the Scots Pine vs. the Douglas-fir. In the end of course, we always wound up with the least expensive tree of suitable size available. Carl Bueker chose to ignore the popular and serviceable metallic Christmas tree stands of the day, almost certainly since such devices represented a significant drain on the contents of his wallet. He preferred instead to implant the family Tannenbaum in a plastic tub carefully packed with moistened soil. This approach had the twin virtues of stabilizing the evergreen in a natural medium and costing next to nothing. I retain a profoundly vivid memory of a gloomy December afternoon in the late ‘60s when dear old Dad asked me to accompany him on his annual mission to fetch some soil for that year’s newly purchased tree. For some long forgotten reason, the man preferred the dead end at the western terminus along Thunderbird Rd. at 33rd Ave. as the customary source for his Christmas tree dirt. Here was located a nice little hill of pliable soil that rose from the narrow dead-end street and then sloped off again into the vacant field beyond. As the twilight sky began to darken, I held the tub and Father carefully shoveled the clumpy earth into the container. We then returned promptly to 3219 to mount the tree in the soil-filled tub so the decorating phase could commence. To this day, I can rarely pass that tiny patch of real estate on Thunderbird Rd. without recalling the long ago Christmas errand with my father. The hill of forty years ago has eroded away to almost level ground, and the once empty field is now crowded with aging apartment buildings and generic strip malls. Now it was time to extract the tree decorations from their place of safekeeping in the garage. The Bueker collection of Christmas tree ornaments and lights began humbly and evolved rather magnificently over the years. Paradoxically, our most unforgettable tree ornaments of all were quite plainly the least impressive of the bunch – the infamous pink and red Shiny Brite bell ornaments. These simple glass ornaments were memorable not for their beauty or craftsmanship to be sure, but rather because they were so decidedly mediocre and yet we had so damn many of them.
The crappy Bueker bell ornaments soon became a running source of mirth each holiday season, and then for many years thereafter, and for this very reason they ultimately became objects of sincere affection. My sister Barbie gave me a few of the remaining specimens as a nostalgic Christmas gift sometime back in the '80s, and a single pink bell has managed to survive in my possession to the present day. It always finds a prominent place of honor on our Christmas tree each year. Several other Bueker ornaments stand out in my mind, some of which were quite lovely. I was particularly enamored of a beautiful silver ornament topped with white icing that I found evocative of the planet Mars with its polar ice caps. One summer, we uncovered several boxes of excellent antique ornaments at the Goodwill Thrift Store that lent our tree a more retro appearance. One of these old ornaments was particularly exquisite, a delicate metallic blue sphere elegantly adorned with small hanging beads. Very '30s. Probably my all-time favorite Christmas tree ornament. Our Christmas tree lights were generally unremarkable on the other hand, the standard multi-colored C7s. One string however was highlighted by a blue popcorn ball bulb that we kids prized highly and to which we always gave the place of honor at the pinnacle of the tree, as per family tradition. The Bueker tree was also typically bedecked with tinsel and icicle ornaments, and mention should also be made of a little elf doll decoration for which I developed an inordinate affection that to this day I have yet to live down. Now that I think about it, in addition to the “real” tree, our mother was also fond of displaying a miniature white artificial tree in the living room each holiday season. This tree had small multi-colored lights, a white plastic base, and was really rather beautiful. So technically, there were three Christmas trees on display at 3219 each year: the" real" tree, my mother's small white artificial tree, and my little golden dead bush-branch tree from kindergarten class. I lost track of my little kindergarten Christmas tree after I went off to college and it sadly slipped away into oblivion. I still think of it often at this time of year. That simple little spray-painted twig lent a kind of continuity to the fourteen Christmases on Joan De Arc Avenue, and I suppose its disappearance at the end of our time on the street was an appropriate denouement. Ah well. At least I’ve still got that wonderful crappy little bell ornament.
Chuck Bueker’s homemade “pizza” By J. Bueker My brother Charles established an unrivaled reputation during the Joan De Arc years as a devoted pizzaphile. Because our family rarely visited pizzerias (or any other restaurant for that matter), Chuck was usually forced to improvise in order to satisfy his love for the Italian pie. I can recall more than a few Saturday afternoons in the ‘70s when he threw together surprisingly tasty pizzas from those old Chef Boyardee and Appian Way pre-packaged mixes. It was also possible on occasion to locate a Jeno’s, with its characteristic cardboard crust, stashed away in the nether regions of our freezer. Yet there were times when even these options were unavailable and my bro was forced to pursue truly desperate measures to obtain his pizza fix, leading to one of the more disturbing chapters in the history of Avenue cuisine.
Chuck Bueker’s Homemade Pizza 1 English muffin Ketchup 1 Kraft cheese slice 1 BAR-S hot dog Any other randomly available foods in the fridge such as onions, olives, pickles, etc.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Cut English muffin into halves and spread ketchup liberally over each half, as you would tomato sauce. Cut cheese into narrow strips and arrange over ketchup layer in the same manner as actual mozzarella. Cut hot dog into thin slices as if it were genuine pepperoni and apply to surface along with any other available food items. Bake for 12 minutes or until hot dog slices are charred, and “enjoy.”
(Please note: The Crusader offers this particular recipe more for its historical interest rather than as a suggested repast.) _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________JDA
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