CAROLINE'S CORNER: CHRISTMAS TREE AND ORNAMENTS REFLECT FAMILY'S YULETIDE HISTORY

Christmas trees decorated with burgundy glass balls, velvet burgundy ribbon and an angel interspersed here and there really dazzle me. Such a tree will never grace my living room because my offspring are so bound by tradition.

Each year when I take the decorations down, I place the pretty ornaments in one box and the slightly maimed one-armed or eyeless ones in another box. The next Christmas, when tree-decorating time arrives, the girls rush to hang the old ornaments. If there are any spaces after they are hung, the pretty ornaments are allowed to join them.

First to be hung are the liver lids. Sharla learned to make these when she was in kindergarten, and we made liver lid ornaments for five days during the Christmas season of 1975. The first task that year was to find a grocery store that would sell us lids used to package chicken livers. No other lids would do. Next we had to find permanent markers in Christmas colors. We drew pictures on the lids and placed them in the oven at a low temperature. The lids shrank and, "Presto!," we had beautiful ornaments.

Luckily the daughters inherited the Simpson art genes. Even though they were both in preschool, they drew their pictures freehand while I found pictures of small angels to trace.

After the liver lids are scattered throughout the branches, the dough art ornaments join them. Dough art was a first-grade project. We made gingerbread men, trees and angels.

Again, Caroline's gingerbread man is the one that is hung at the back of the tree, out of sight. Even though he is quite homely, he must not be left in the box during the Christmas season.

Next the girls insist that Boulware and I hang the 12 wooden ornaments. Our first Christmas together, 26 years ago, we had no ornaments. We bought a set of paint-by-number ornaments and spent many nights painstakingly painting them. Mrs. Claus must hang beside Santa. The three kings must hang beside the wise men. Each has his place, and far be it from me to suggest otherwise. Breaking a tradition could get one in big trouble under my tree.

The elementary school ornaments are next. The one made of construction paper with Sharla's picture surrounded by macaroni has lost most of the macaroni. Gluing more macaroni to the ornament would not solve the problem because 17-year old macaroni looks yellowed and aged. It just would not be the same with shiny new macaroni added.

The ornament with the body made of a package of Lifesavers and limbs of yarn has suffered the ravages of time and storage. His limbs are frayed and damaged. A prosthesis of new green yarn will not be permitted.

After Sharla and Cara have hung their special ornaments, I get to hang the ones I choose. First goes my "Bert" ornament. My friend Bert, who died a few years ago, was the ultimate nature lover. Her little acorn elf is the first one that I hang.

Next I hang my "Sandy angels." These re crocheted angels that my adopted sister Sandy made. I would relish a tree decorated entirely with these angels, but that will never happen.

By this time the tree is usually almost full and there is room for only a few ornaments that are shimmering and whole. We hang the old treetop angel just below the new one. In our house, angels cannot retire. They may become disabled but they are not put out to pasture, or whatever happens to disabled treetop angels.

While forewomen Sharla and Cara direct their father in the task of turning on the lights, I run to the basement to find the Christmas tapes that we always forget to carry to the decorating site. When the music is ready, we sit and await the lighting of the tree by Boulware.

Mama will rule in the music category and this year we will have new Christmas music. My Aaron Neville Christmas tape that I bought last year will allow us to enjoy the tree with toe-tapping holiday tunes.

While we tap our toes, Sharla will run to get "Twas the Night Before Christmas" for Mama to read.

Cara will ask, "Can we open one present on Christmas Eve?"

I am so fortunate that my family is bound by tradition.

Caroline Simpson is a weekly columnist for the Jackson U.S.A. Signal. Her columns and human interest stories appear in other Rust Communications publications.