If you missed the first part of this series, go to The Spirit of Christmas – Part 1

Blue Ribbon Christmas
I grew up in an upper-middle class family in Kirkwood, Missouri living in a beautiful stone house with a green tile roof a half a block from Greenbriar Hills Country Club.  Our back yard, beyond our lilac bushes, was the 11th fairway of the golf course where in the summer, we played baseball till it was so dark that the ball was lost the minute you hit it into the outfield.  In the fall the golf course became the perfect football field and in winter the snow on the golf course hills made the tobogganing wild and wooly.

Most of the homes in Greenbriar were situated on the golf course and the community was close, friendly and laid back.  I prided myself in knowing the family names of the people in every house in Greenbriar.

My dad, Lyman Link, was a self-made accountant who did the bookkeeping for a hundred or so little businesses – gas stations, butcher shops, furniture stores, etc.  He was a workaholic who grew up poor in Canada, came to the U.S. just before the depression playing drums in a small orchestra and ended up staying when the depression hit and the band broke up.

He wrangled a job as an accountant knowing nothing about it, but just trying to survive and then stayed with it as he built a good little business of serving the small business operator.  Because he came from nothing, he was proud of his something.  His dreams of owning a Cadillac were fulfilled year after year.  He was Lyman Link, the accountant with the Cadillac car.

He was also terribly proud of our beautiful home.  It was probably one of the 5 most original and admired houses in Greenbriar, and, looking back, I remember him as a man who always worked to make the best of lives for his family.

Every Christmas season Greenbriar Hills Country Club would have a house decorating contest and everyone in our little community would go all out in decorating their homes.  Our house was so pretty that we didn’t have to do much except hang a few lights out front and build a snowman to make it look festive and Christmassy, but much to the consternation of Dad, we never won the contest.

Our next-door neighbors, the Miners were Mom and Dad’s good friends.  Jack and Lyman were ice cream buddies in the summer, shared a love for cars and when Dad wasn’t working, often hung out doing and talking about God knows what.

Mom whose name was Virginia, but was nick-named Dolly by Dad, was friendly with Jack’s wife, Golly, whose real name was Olive.  Probably a good decision to change that name.  So it was Dolly and Golly.  These are the kinds of stories you can’t make up.

Anyway, one Christmas Dad decided that it was high time that we went all out and won this darn contest.  Every year the judging would take place Christmas eve and by Christmas day a small blue ribbon, a red ribbon and a white ribbon would be placed on the doors of 3 houses in Greenbriar and the wives would talk about the winners at bridge parties for months after.

The blue ribbon almost always went to Shirley Gorbell who was the artiste of the community and whose house was always a “can’t miss” at Christmas.  Somehow, each Christmas, Shirley managed to come up with an idea that out-did her previous efforts.  Every Christmas Eve Dad would pile our whole family into the Cadillac, Nana included, and we’d drive through Greenbriar and check out the houses.  We often argued into the night as to which one was our favorite, but Shirley’s house was most often the hands down winner.

So Dad was determined to knock Shirley off her pedestal.

Aluminum foil, Reynolds Wrap, had just been invented.  Remember, it was the 50s.  Dad decided that he had to do something special to really make a splash, so he went out and bought about 50 rolls of Reynolds Wrap and we Reynolds Wrapped the entire front entrance of the house – the front door, the columns and the porch walls.

Now I know that you’re probably cringing at this thought, but when the lights went up, the big red bows were placed, the green wreathes went on and the green bunting was hung, it was pretty spectacular if you were into that mirrored look.  As a nine year old, I was thrilled beyond imagination.  Dad even bought a big ol’ spotlight that he placed in the front yard pointing at the mirrored front porch and at night, when that baby went on, it was Radio City Music Hall.

We left a small place on the front door where the judging committee could hang the blue ribbon.  Cars would line up in the street at night as our neighbors gawked and Jim and I would run around excitedly in doors and peek out the windows at the parade of admirers passing by.  Oh, we were so proud of our home.

Unfortunately, the Country Club Judging Committee did not quite see it the way we did.  We did not win the blue ribbon – or the red or the white one.  We woke up Christmas morning and wondered why the committee was late in their ribbon placement and then, as the day wore on, began to sadly realize that our Herculean efforts had been overlooked.  About four o’clock that afternoon Dad got in his car and simply drove past Shirley’s house and brought home the bad news.  She had won again.

Our Christmas was ruined.  I was devastated.  How could they be so blind?  (Perhaps blinded by our mirrors.)  Mom and Dad met with us late in the afternoon and we commiserated as a family and decided we’d simply try again next year.  But the joy of Christmas was not to be found in the Link house.

That Christmas it was our year to do the Christmas dinner.  We and the Miners often went back and forth.  As we sadly went about our preparation for the Miners and the Kittners, our hearts were just not into it.  Finally the doorbell rang and there were both families standing out at the street pointing to the front of our house.  “Look, look, look” they all yelled.  We walked out to them and then turned around to look back at out house.

There, hanging on the front porch column was a gigantic six-foot blue ribbon swaying in the winter breeze – and next to it, a red one and next to that a white one.  Jack and Golly had spent the day making these gigantic ribbons and they had just hung them on the house.

Everyone was hootin’ and hollerin’, laughing and clapping.  Joy was restored.  We all went back inside and had a merry old time.

Dad left those ribbons up.  The committee was not pleased, but the rest of the neighbors truly enjoyed the joke and for years the people of Greenbriar had a good laugh remembering the year that Lyman won the blue ribbon.

Dad was a proud man, but not so proud that he couldn’t accept being the butt of a joke and seeing the humor in it.  I always loved and admired him for that.  He left those ribbons up.  Perhaps, to a certain extent, he was giving the finger to the committee, but he was also saying to the community, “All right, I know I got a little garish, but it was really fun, and we, as a family, did something quite spectacular.  It’s all right if you laugh.”

Except for a few disappointed hours there, it was a Christmas I’ll never forget – full of family, anticipation, pride, celebration and the spirit of Christmas.  As a family we did something pretty terrific together and were rewarded handsomely.

I’ll bet even Shirley was jealous.

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