A Little History:
Our story begins in Pocatello, Idaho, circa 1972, when the lovely Debby Christensen agreed to a first, though fateful date with admirer, David Croshaw. Long story-short, he bade her follow him, and they went arm-in-arm to the Logan, Utah temple for establishment of an eternal family unit, Generation 1, on May 23 1973.

From their first blissful summer in Salt Lake City, educational pursuits took them to Provo/Orem, Utah, birthplace of Leslie and Rebecca, and to San Francisco/Oakland California, birthplace of Colin and Matt. Then, for establishment of livelihood, expansion of the tribe with Abby and Dana, and for raising/unifying of Generation 2, it was back to the roots in Pocatello for a rewarding sojourn.

In time, driven by a raging, but commonly shared sense of adventure and independence, one-by-one, Generation 2 escaped the homeland to distant regions of the country and the world, each ultimately developing their own tribal expansions by pairing with worthy mates and initiating Generation 3.

Now sensing fulfillment of their purpose in Pocatello, Generation 1 has also left those roots and transplanted to Cascade Idaho, from which base, they anticipate more abundant contact with The Posterity, Generations 2 and 3, in the future. That contact however, awaits fulfillment of a call to LDS missionary service in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, wherein they hope to help the state of the world by sharing the love of Jesus Christ.

So now, including Generation 0 (Grandma and Grandpa Christensen) home base includes Yuma, Arizona, Pocatello, Idaho, Cascade, Idaho, Vancouver, BC, Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Spokane, Washington, Boise, Idaho, Los Angeles, California, back to Boise, Idaho, and on and on (Generation 3+) to infinity.

Our Mission Statement:
This is the blog of our eternal family unit. Initiated years ago, it served well as a journal, but even more so, as an archive of our personal interaction. It was a gathering place, a confabulation instrument, a unifying force for four generations of widely dispersed and progressively prolific posterity, and their valued associates. Though it served these purposes well for many years, it eventually took a back seat to new-kids-on-the-block, Facebook, and Instagram, and was sadly forgotten.

We now move to resurrect this blog with an added functional purpose of archiving the missionary experiences of Generation 1, of their movements and activities as they participate with The Gathering of Israel in the land northward. In so doing, we hope that via their own comments and posts, this blog will again serve to gather and unify the posterity and their friends.

As in the past, that the young and vibrant may know the old and tired, that enduring bonds may be fostered and maintained, that experience and encouragement may be openly shared, that posterity may embrace truth, and that hearts may be knit together, we must resist detachment despite our geographic divergence. We shall do so here.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Christmas Trees (Resurrected)

     So I was looking through our Picasa photos, and found the very subject of a photoless holiday post I placed almost 3 years ago.  So, as we again approach Christmas, I decided to resurrect that old post, and this time add the evidence:

     I was reminded of a childhood experience that made a difference in who I am. My parents were amazingly tolerant of my attempts at creativity. They would even encourage me, or at least would humor me by acting impressed with my innovations. This tended to make me a little brazen and presumptuous with the things I would do around the house.  You've probably heard the story about me punching holes in the car muffler with a nail, so that it would have a mean rumbling sound.  I was always taking things apart and putting them back together, often using, and sometimes losing my dad's tools without permission. I would get into a little trouble for that and I had to learn to take care of the tools. He never minded my using them, he just wanted them put away when I was done.
     One year during my early teens, I decided, without consulting anyone, that we should cut our own Christmas tree. So one Saturday morning, I went up into the foothills east of our house with a hand saw and a hatchet. I picked out a nice 6 foot cedar tree, cut it down and dragged it home. I had seen some official flocked trees the year before and thought that was so cool. I decided I could do that myself, so I went to the greenhouse and bought a flocking kit, which consisted of a bunch of ground up white paper stuff which was to be mixed with water and then sprayed onto the tree. I set up a flocking station in the garage, using my mom's old Electrolux vacuum, exactly like this one (this may be the one), with the hose plugged into the exhaust, and with a spray gun attached, like the one below.

The old Electrolux was pretty powerful, and I got more flock on the walls and ceiling than on the tree. I wanted the flocking to be thick so it would look like the tree had heavy snowfall on it. You know how cedar trees are very thick and full- I ran out of flock and had to go buy more to get the job done. My dad, being Frank Frugal, had originally liked the idea of a free tree, but ultimately I probably spent enough in flocking materials to negate that theory.
Anyway, I finally got it done and dragged it into the house, getting flocking all over everything. We set it up on a make-shift wood stand my dad had helped me build, and decorated it with lots of those old foil ice sickles, big lights, and balls. I thought it looked pretty good, but my mom and dad were just beside themselves with how beautiful it was, and how great it was that I had done it myself. The mess I had made did not seem to be an issue. We all cleaned it up together.  Christmas was very special for me that year. In fact, they liked it so much that they let me do it again the next year, as pictured below - no ice sickles, just red balls.  Not bad, but the plastic tree skirt really makes it, don’t you think?

 Looking back, I now realize that those cedar trees were pretty mundane and folksy in my mom's beautiful living room. I now have to believe Mom and Dad must have recognized that at the time, but, I never would have known it from their reaction. They just smiled and kept encouraging me, probably subconsciously bracing at the same time for my next crazy project.

     I'm not sure I was as good a parent as they were in that regard, but I hope you all will be with your kids. It will give them tremendous levels of self confidence.


No comments: