A favorite part of holiday decorating is setting up my Snow Village houses. I received my first house the Christmas of 1986. That year, we purchased both a house, and I also received a tree. Over the years, we added another house, a church, and a ski lodge (plus a park gazebo that I broke, purchased a second, and, while it was years later, broke again). The collection has spent Christmas on top of a TV cabinet, below a window in our basement, over 20 years on a fireplace mantel, and now here in its third house in my Lincoln Cupboard.
Christmas of 1986 was also the year that my mother-in-law started her own village. She was ready to make a change in how she decorated her mantel, and these wonderful light-up houses were just what she was looking for. That first year, she purchased a sweet little white house. Her collection began to grow, and in 1992, she purchased “Grandma’s Cottage.”
Sometime later, I am guessing about 1996, I was in Hollandtown to help decorate for Christmas; I was down in the basement setting up the, well, basement tree. I remember her coming to the top of the stairs and calling me to come up, “he was going to break it!” I headed up the stairs, where she met me in the kitchen, telling me that the lightbulb end of the plug for one of the houses had pushed into the house, a not uncommon occurrence if you do not put them in just so, and Butch was attempting to get it back out with a letter opener.
Entering the living room, I found my father-in-law standing at the mantel, “Grandma’s Cottage” in one hand and his letter opener in the other. Now this was just not any letter opener; it was a letter opener improved by Butch. He liked his letter openers sharp! A tool that would easily and cleanly slip open an envelope. So, he sharpened them on the lathe to a knife edge point. And it was with this that he was digging around in the small opening on the back of the house, trying to get the clamps caught so he could pull out the bulb.
As Marie peeked fearfully around the corner at us, I asked Butch if I could try, as I had smaller fingers than he did. He reluctantly let me have the house, and I was able to stick my fingers in, press the clamp enough to pull the bulb out, and properly insert it into the opening. The crisis was diverted, but not without some lasting minor damage. Damage that makes me smile each year as I get “Grandma’s Cottage” out of its box and settled into place next to what we affectionately call “The Rectory.”
