Family Legends
Every family has legends. They are usually grounded in events, but they tend to grow as time goes on. They are kind of like fishing stories; they just get bigger and bigger as time goes by. The importance of family legends is that, whether true or not, they remind us of our personal history. They keep us connected to our past and serve to remind us of who we are and how we got here. This all seems to be a very human thing to do. One of the great differentiators that separates humans from other animals is our memory. Yes, animals can remember to a degree. Everyone’s dog remembers where you keep the treats. Human memory, however, is more detailed than that. We remember things with such specificity and detail that the events become part of us.
It is not critical if these events are factual or not. What is critical is the meaning we give to these events that have become legends. They provide the context around our lives, without which we would be ever the poorer as individuals. The need for meaning is innate in humans, and it is one of the things that drives us to be better than we ever thought we could be. As the iconic line from the western The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance states “when the legend becomes fact, print the legend”. It’s just who we are as human beings.
The Legend of the Purple Ornament
In my large family we had many such legends. Since this is the run up to Christmas, I will share a holiday tale that has become legend. My mother had a large collection of Christmas ornaments, and enough room to have two trees in the house. One was artificial (and in those days that meant looking very artificial). Upon this tree hung the more modern ornaments. The real tree that was in the formal living room was festooned with the more traditional, and older ornaments. This included the yearly addition of a crystal ornament, as well as ornaments handed down, as well as collected over the years.
Over the years one ornament began to stand out as particularly precious and memorable. It was a simple, plain purple ornament. It had no writing, no other decorations, nor any markings at all. Just a purple glass ball. Where this ornament came from is somewhat unclear. The story seems to be that it was handed down to my mother from her mother. It may have possibly been even older than that. There was vaguely some notion that it was specially made, or perhaps hand blown by some Italian glass artist. In the end, no one really knows for sure where the ornament came from. The only thing we knew for certain was that it was old. Really, really…really old.
Over the years it became something of a badge of honor to be the one that hung the purple ornament on the tree. Arguments were had, shots fired (ok, only rhetorically) over who would hang this ornament on the tree. For several years, I would be the peacemaker between my older sisters by seeing one of them hang the ornament, then taking it back off the tree, and letting the other sister hang it up, thereby allowing both sisters to claim the honor.
My own take on the origin of this ornament is more prosaic. I suspect, given its plainness, that it very likely was one of a box of a dozen multicolored ornaments that you could buy at a downtown department store (yes, for any Millennials reading, department stores used to be downtown). It was nondescript, and likely started out life as such. I have likely just committed family blasphemy, but so be it. My point is that it absolutely does not matter where it came from. Such is the nature of legends.
It’s the Meaning That Matters
What is truly important is the meaning that became attached to this ornament. It became a symbol of deep connection to a past, that was gone, and all but unknowable to us today. A past, that nonetheless shaped us and made us who we are. It has become a symbol of the wonderful memories of Christmases of yesteryear. It was, I suspect, a connection for my mother to her mother, and her childhood. It became that for us over time and remains so today.
That is why legends are so important to human culture. It is about the meaning of remembrance. It allows us to time travel and be transported to a time and place that was simpler, filled with love and support, and an integral part of the upbringing our parents gave us. I realize that many did not have this kind of childhood, and their upbringing is filled with a great deal of pain. I do not have a frame of reference for these folks, yet I am sorry that this is the case. I fully realize how blessed I was, and unabashedly I say…good for me. My hope is that we can create a world that is filled with more such legendary upbringings than ones filled with pain. That is one of my constant prayers, at Christmas, and all year long.
So, embrace the legends of your upbringing. Do not think too deeply if it is factually correct or not. Embrace the gentle arguments that such legends generate within families, they too are a part of the meaning these give to us. Treasure those memories, legendary or not, and hold them close to your heart. They are a part of who you are and how you got here, and that is a truly wonderful thing.
Postscript
Briefly, I likely wrote this essay because, as it turns out, I am the keeper of this particular family legend. Upon my mother’s death I was entrusted with the care of the purple ornament. This is not a thing I take lightly. So much so, that the ornament sits in a curio hutch literally under glass, as the above picture shows.
Taking it out for this picture was easily the scariest thing I have done all year. My pledge is to take all steps possible to ensure that this piece of family lore does not break on my watch. When the legend has become fact, and you have printed the legend, it is incumbent upon you to protect that legend.
Praise Be to God
