The Parlie Bulb

It’s that time of year again, when the Chesney family takes time out of their busy schedules to decorate for Christmas. It’s a tradition that has been passed down from generation to generation.

I treasure the days that I used to spend with my dad, going out to find the perfect Christmas tree. We were poor folk and couldn’t afford to buy a tree like some people. So instead, we struck out with our axe, looking for a lovely cedar tree to chop down. It wasn’t something that we took lightly. No sir. We searched hill and dale for our victim. You would think that my dad was president of the Rockefeller tree committee. He would inspect every cedar that we happened upon. It couldn’t be too tall or too short or, Heaven forbid, too thin…what would momma think? When a suitable tree was finally found, Dad would deliver the fatal blow to the base of the trunk and make quick work of landing it. Then, off we would head back toward the house dragging our treasure behind us.

The next step in putting up our tree was the most important. The task of getting the tree to stand up in the living room was always brutal. A normal tree stand would never work for us. Instead, we would stuff the tree down inside a 5-gallon bucket and place bricks around it to make it stand up. As you can imagine, this sometimes made for some excitement when the tree decided that it was tired of being in the bucket and would do everything in it’s power to get out. Just ask my mom about the time we came home from church and the Christmas tree was laying smack dab in the middle of the living room floor! And there is the time we had the bright idea of wrapping fishing line around the top of it and tacking it to the ceiling.

While I enjoyed all of the above-mentioned things, my favorite part was getting to decorate the tree. My sisters and I would delight in all of the shiny, fancy ornaments that mom would dig out of old cardboard boxes. It was like a free-for-all in the house when we were decorating. Ornaments, icicles, lights, buttons, bows, angel hair, you name it…we stuck it on the tree. But, our most treasured ornament was a set of very old glass bulbs that my Great Aunt Parlie Hall had given my mother back in the early 1970's. We simply called them, “The Parlie Bulbs.” I can still hear my mother shouting at us, "you better be careful with my Parlie bulbs!" They were indeed beautiful, but what made them so special was that we knew who they used to belong to. Aunt Parlie was one of the sweetest, kindest and gentlest persons in the entire world. I think she loved us almost as much as our own parents did; at least that’s how we felt every time we were around her. She fussed over us and bragged on us all the time. So…the Parlie bulbs were very special to us.

As my sisters and I got older, married and moved away from home, we continued our Christmas tradition. It was much to our joy and amazement when, one year, our mother presented us with special Christmas presents. She gave us the Parlie bulbs! I believe we received two each. Oh, how I treasured those old glass bulbs. In fact, I hung mine over the mantle in our den so that I could see them all year round. Sadly, one day in a freak accident, one of the Parlie bulbs received a direct hit from a flying object in the house, shattering into a million pieces. I was so sick to my stomach as I cleaned the glass shards off the brick hearth. I decided to take the other bulb down and wrap it up and store it in a safe place.

Every year at this time, my family and I decorate our Christmas tree. Every year, I pull the Parlie bulb from its secure box and look for the perfect spot on the tree to hang it. I always try to place it where I can see it from my favorite spot on the couch.

So…that’s the story of the Parlie bulb. I’m sure you have similar traditions and things that you treasure during the holiday season. Please feel free to share your stories with me. Oh, and don’t forget the reason why we’re celebrating Christmas. Don’t take Christ out of it.