LUCY'S CHRISTMAS By Donald Hall Paperback 40 pp. San Diego: Voyager Books. $7.00.

By Laurie Meunier Graves

For those of us who were born in northern New England, our childhood memories of Christmas tend to be dark, magical, and cold. I remember tourtiere pies, presents, the sparkle of lights, and the smell of balsam. On that day, we always rose early, before the sun was up, and our presents were opened by the time the first slant of light came through the long row of windows in the living room. Then there were church and games and snow. Always snow.

These memories cast a rosy, nostalgic glow over my childhood Christmases, a time when life was slower and less hectic. I could be describing an era long gone, but in fact I am describing Christmas in the 1960s. Was it really that way? Perhaps not for everyone, but that is how I remember it.

Lucy's Christmas by Donald Hall is the story of his mother's Christmas in the early 1900s. At first glance, it is every bit as nostalgic and quaint as my description of Christmas in the 1960s. But good stories deserve more than one glance.

The opening lines of Lucy's Christmas do a perfect job of setting the tone and the cadence for this children's book and of establishing Lucy's practical, New England personality: "Late in August a branch of the sugar maple turned red, which made Lucy think of autumn and winter. Lucy Wells liked planning ahead. Even though it was far off, she thought about Christmas at the South Danbury Church, where all the families in the village opened their presents together. So she started making Christmas presents."

The gentle plot of this story revolves around Lucy and her family getting ready for Christmas. For her mother, Lucy makes a pincushion from scraps of velvet and sheep wool that she's saved; for her father, a book of tissues—Little Shaver—to wipe his straight razor; for her sister Caroline, a clothes pin doll; and for her friend Rebecca, a pen wiper.

There are many other things to do, from making costumes for the church's Christmas program to making green and red paper chains to decorate the church and, finally, to making popcorn bags out of pink netting. "In each bag they [Lucy, her mother, and her sister] put two pieces of ribbon candy and a whole handful of popcorn. It took them all day."

Mixed in with the Christmas preparations is the anticipation of a new arrival—"the latest Glenwood Kitchen Range"—ordered, of course, from Sears Roebuck in Chicago. When it comes, it is the "Queen of the Kitchen," and all the neighbors stop by to admire this new woodstove that "had levers all over, to control the heat so that everything cooked at the right temperature." Lucy's mother must learn how to cook on this modern "wonder" that is so different from her old kitchen range.

Finally, the big day of the Christmas party arrives. To the children, it is grand and wonderful and filled with light. Lucy gets an unexpected present, which will not be revealed in this review, and the story ends with a sleigh ride home "through the darkness under a million stars."

To the casual reader, this story is a beautifully written but sad reminder of a lost time when Christmas was simpler and therefore less work than it is today. Michael McCurdy's lovely illustrations, which have the look of woodcuts, firmly places the story in the past, and they, along with Mr. Hall's writing, give the book a soothing, satisfying tone.

Yet along with this tone there is something that raises Lucy's Christmas above mere nostalgia; that something is "the latest Glenwood Kitchen Range" and what it represents. Lucy, her parents, her sister, and the neighbors are not pining for the past. They are embracing the future with enthusiasm, and they love this modern "wonder" that has levers that will actually control the stove's temperature. Lucy's mother is more than willing to learn to cook in a completely different way, even though that way most certainly took a great deal of effort.

Then there is the question of simplicity, the beloved concept of recent times. Exactly how simple was Christmas for Lucy and her family? To begin with, Lucy and her sister spend much time making presents. Anyone who has ever made just one gift knows this is far from simple. In fact, when all is said and done, it is far easier to go out and buy presents for family and friends.

There is also the Christmas party to consider. Costumes and decorations must be made; popcorn bags must be assembled and filled. This last project takes Lucy, her sister, and her mother a whole day. To consider these activities simple seems to me to be a foolish disregard of the time and energy that were put into them.

But what about the children's presents? Surely there wasn't the emphasis on materialism that we have today? Let us take a look at some of the things the children received: "a pretty little doll…and a doll's cradle…storybooks…a doll's night gown, a board game called Railroad, and a new set of dominoes…tiddlywinks and tiny doll's booties and a map of the United States that was a puzzle…" In short, they were modern gifts of the times. Most importantly, these gifts were toys—they weren't at all practical—and were bought or made to please the children. The parents, relatives, and friends used what resources they had and gave as generously as they could.

In the end, this generosity is what we remember. It is what makes Christmas magical, and it is what connects the past, present, and future. Times may change, presents may change, and modern technology may produce things with less effort. But the desire to give and to please loved ones, especially children, is a constant of Christmas. To suppose this was easier and less of an effort in the past is to do a great disservice to the memories of our forebears.
 

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