More than any time of the year, I like Christmas. November is a nap, but December is a thrill. Christmas trees are turning the winter into bright colors. I like the evergreens in everyone’s yard, lit up like Michigan Avenue in Chicago. There is glory in a lighted Christmas tree. It makes you feel that everything is good.
We never miss a tree in our condo, but this year we are wondering, Helen is determined: No tree! “Don’t you think we’ve had enough Christmas trees? We have been married 65 years. That adds up to 65 trees. Remember our first one? We were so poor we decorated it with bows from our wedding presents.”
Still, I am not sure. I am determined that we should again have a real tree, of some size. We have enough ornaments to decorate the neighborhood. I could not imagine our house without a Christmas tree. Why, when we lived in the big house on River Drive, we had three Christmas trees. I would sit alone at night and stare at a Christmas tree. By squinting my eyes, the lights on the tree looked like stars.
Yet today, my wife is determined. “No big tree.” She reminded me of a few years ago when I was putting the top-knot-ornament on the tree and lost my balance on the ladder. I almost went through the sliding glass door. “You could have killed yourself,” she rightly said. Well, I am no longer at an age of disagreeing with my wife. OK. No tree. Our Christmas tree will be a few evergreen limbs on the mantel with battery-lit candles. I love my wife. I guess we will NOT have a Christmas tree.
The three wise men and tacos
It seemed a little incongruous on a chilly Sunday night. We sat in a booth at Rudy’s in the Village of East Davenport. Almost, in a tandem, one after another, three well-to-do gentlemen walked in:
Craig Windmiller, in cap and dark-rimmed sports glasses, the builder of some of the most ostentatious homes in the Quad-Cities.
Don Pruder, the husband of Vickie Palmer, of the Palmer empire and also the Reimers Oak Knoll mansion that is everlastingly being restored by Pruder in the River Drive bluffs.
Frank Paaske, the friendly fellow who founded Green Thumb, the Brady Street oasis.
We shook hands and visited. All ordered the same. They wanted tacos on a Sunday night. Don’s was a carry-out for his wife.
Step right up and vote
While my wife shopped, I relaxed in an overstuffed chair at the edge of the men's wear department of Von Maur’s Davenport. Dapper in vest and cane, several customers thought I was the manager type, offering department directions. Up came Ken Crocken, who is retiring from a choice marketing job at Genesis. He smiled, confessed that he might run for Scott County supervisor next November. Come to think of it, that’s a good idea.
Contact Bill Wundram at 563-383-2249 or firstname.lastname@example.org