Home for the Holidays

by Rebecca Kelly

  “It was the best decision we ever made,” Rachel said, beaming at her husband.

  Joseph took his turn as guide by telling them of the German immigrants who had started coming to North America in the late seventeenth century and how many of them had chosen to settle in Pennsylvania.

  “German immigrants wanted big, solid houses and preferred to build within their own communities, with wood and quarried stone versus the usual brick and plaster.” Joseph brought out a photo album with old photos and postcards that he and Rachel had collected over the years, and showed them some examples of the homes that the immigrants had built. “This was also a practice of Dutch immigrants, whose homes were likewise considered enormous by colonial standards of the time.

  “Both the Dutch and the Germans fell in love with Pennsylvania. I think it reminded them of the open countryside where they had been brought up. According to the 1990 census, nearly forty percent of all Pennsylvanians today are of German descent.”

  “Hmm. How about those horse-and-buggy people?” Laura asked. “Are they descended from the Dutch settlers?”

  The antique dealer shook his head. “The Amish and Mennonites trace their roots back to Germany, but they were misnamed the ‘Pennsylvania Dutch,’ probably because they spoke German, which in their language is Deutsch.”

  The Holzmanns took the group to see their Dutch-style back door, which was divided in half horizontally.

  “I imagine the lady of the house would work on the laundry in here,” he told them, “and open the top half to let in air while keeping the bottom half closed to keep her children in or the yard animals out.”

  Next they took the group back to their front living room, where Joseph explained the changes Karl Schroeder had made to the alcove brick fireplace from the Stickley plan by using a wider, deeper hearth and quarried granite rock left in its natural state.

  “The benches are based on built-ins from the original design, but Karl created extra storage room by enclosing the bases and hinging the seats to double as lids.” He raised one to show them the firewood he had stored inside. “Traditionally Germans put their fireplaces in the center of the house. This was to take advantage of heat distribution and because the hearth was the center of home life. They not only cooked here, but they bathed and read by firelight as well.”

  Max’s eyebrows went up. “They took baths in the living room?”

  “In the winter it was the warmest spot in the house,” Louise said. “There were no hot water heaters in those days, so the water had to be heated on a stove or over an open fire. Better to bring a tub by the fire than haul buckets of hot water up the stairs.”

  The Holzmanns invited the group to sit and discuss any questions they had about the house. All the guests were amused when Rachel stated that the only serious modification to the house that her husband had allowed was to screen in the rear porch.

  “I learned to live with all this wonderful old wood and stone,” she admitted, “but I drew the line at bugs in my lemonade.”

  “She can be awfully fussy that way,” Joseph said, teasing her.

  “I really admire all the antique collections you have around the house,” Edwina told her. “The way you display them is fascinating.”

  Louise also liked Rachel’s inventive ways of displaying their possessions. Instead of keeping them segregated in cabinets and on shelves, she had them out in different, ingenious arrangements that showed them off while making them seem like a perfectly natural part of the room.

  “You’re actually sitting right next to Rachel’s largest personal antique collection,” Joseph told her, nodding toward the tree, which the firelight made glitter brightly. “She’s become such an expert on German blown-glass ornaments that I’m trying to convince her to write a book on them.”

  “I’d rather spend the time hunting down more ornaments for my collection,” Rachel said as she went over to the tree and gently traced her fingertips over a blown-glass version of Santa Claus. “I do love them, though. My father was a glassblower who made laboratory-grade glass containers, and one of my happiest memories as a girl was going to the glassworks to watch him.”

  Rachel explained that blown-glass ornaments had been made as far back as the sixteenth century, originating in the eastern part of Germany and then quickly becoming a major industry that spread through the country.

  “The first blown-glass products that were made weren’t ornaments, but ordinary household items like drinking glasses and serving bowls. It wasn’t until the Christmas tree become popular in the nineteenth century that artisans began producing kugels or kugeln, which were simply balls of silvered glass, like this one.” She took a silver sphere from the tree to show them. “My ancestors worked in glass factories in Lauscha, which my father considered the birthplace of ornament art.”

  “Why is there a pickle hanging on your tree?” Laura asked, wrinkling her nose as she peered at it. “Is that something German too?”

  “Ah, you have very sharp eyes. Yes, that’s another family tradition. The pickle ornament is always the last one to be hung on the Christmas tree. My parents would hide it after my sisters and I had gone to bed on Christmas Eve, and whoever found the pickle in the morning would be the first one to unwrap his or her presents.”

  “What do you get if you find a sauerkraut ornament?” Allan teased.

  “You get to make a Reuben sandwich.” Rachel chuckled. “You would not believe how often my sisters and I knocked our heads together, searching the tree for that pickle.”

  “It must have been hard to find too.” Allan admired the little ornament, which was life-sized and molded to look exactly like the genuine article. “Seeing that it’s the same color as the tree.”

  “They are very pretty ornaments, but storing them must be a nightmare,” Laura said.

  “You simply have to take some extra care with them,” Rachel told her. “Glass ornaments should be individually wrapped in acid-free paper and packed in a sturdy, sectioned, single-layer box. The biggest mistakes people make are heaping them together, letting them roll around loose, or wrapping them in plastic or bubble wrap.”

  “It was easier to deal with decorating a tree before the introduction of glass ornaments,” Joseph added. “Glass of any era needs proper ventilation. If you store your ornaments in a basement or attic, you should keep them in a dry, dark spot away from light, dampness and extreme temperatures.”

  “I’d like to do a lesson plan about glass ornaments when the children come back from Christmas vacation,” Edwina said. She had been discreetly writing some notes on a small pad. “Do you know what the German people used to decorate their trees before glass ornaments, Mr. Holzmann?”

  “Sometimes small gifts were tied to the branches with ribbon,” he told her, “but mostly people decorated with edible items like cookies, candy, nuts and dried fruit.”

  Edwina grinned. “So you didn’t have to pack up ornaments after Christmas. You could just eat them.”

  “I think I could handle that,” Ted commented.

  Laura wandered over to a shelf displaying a row of unusual-looking frames and boxes made of layered and carved wood. “I’ve seen these before in some magazines. They’re called hobo work or something like that, aren’t they?”

  “The official term is tramp art, but examples that Joseph collects are ones specifically made by German immigrants. We dealers refer to their craftsmanship as chip-work or edge-carved,” Rachel said. “Since this is Joseph’s particular area of expertise, I’ll let him tell you about it.”

  “My wife is being diplomatic. She’s heard me complain too often about how maligned tramp art has become in the last fifty years,” her husband said. “The pieces I collect were made by traveling German immigrants and are unique to the Pennsylvania area.”

  “They appear to be made out of little bits of wood,” Allan said as he studied a picture frame.

  “Edge-carved pieces are almost exclusively made from scraps of wood and from cigar boxes ma
de of wood. Those pieces were very popular during the period after the Civil War right up until the Great Depression. That was also a period when cigar smoking was very fashionable. Often itinerant workers would trade finished pieces for food, lodging and discarded cigar boxes from which they could make more items.”

  “That must have been tedious.” Despite his observation, Max seemed truly interested. “How did they use the cigar boxes?”

  “The carver would cut down the old cigar box wood into thin strips, which he would glue together in layers, in a pyramid fashion.” Joseph took the lid from one trinket box and held it up to the light. “Once he formed a solid object, he would use different methods of carving to further define and decorate the edges, and to give an illusion of depth. Edge-carvings are some of the oldest examples of American folk art.”

  “I love these miniature crèches,” Edwina said, admiring the tiny Nativity scenes that the Holzmanns had displayed on the mantel above the fireplace. “What did they use to get such fine details?”

  “Edge-carvings were simply made by hand with a whittling knife,” Joseph told her.

  Ted bent to look at another shelf. “These look like toys.”

  “Animals and other children’s items, which we call whimsies, were almost as popular as picture frames and treasure boxes,” Joseph acknowledged. “Noah’s ark was a favorite theme.” He picked up an intricately carved cane resting against one shelf. “Walking canes were another specialty. I have a client who collects only edge-carved canes.”

  “I think it looks too busy.” Laura pursed her lips. “I’ve seen better.”

  Although that made Louise take in a sharp breath, Joseph didn’t take offense. “A lot of people think of edge-carvings as too gaudy or kitschy. Since a small amount of it was made by anonymous hobos who used the railroads to travel the country, many antique collectors consider it cheaply made, but this is a misconception.”

  “Is it?” The interior decorator seemed amused by this. “What makes it so special?”

  “The majority of edge-carvings were made by immigrant itinerant workers and wanderburschen, or traveling apprentices, men skilled in the art of wood carving.” He turned over a picture frame to show her where the slivers of wood joined in hundreds of tiny joints. “You can imagine the painstaking work that went into fashioning just this one piece. Edge-carving may be a ‘working class’ art form, but it really doesn’t deserve its bad reputation.”

  “Why did these men wander around the countryside when they could have settled down somewhere?” Ted asked as he raised his camera to take a photo of the collection.

  “Most Germans came to America in search of jobs, but they found only seasonal work on farms. Single men who didn’t have families would travel quite a bit to search for work. Their craft was often called tramp art, a term that was not considered a derogatory one during their time period, by the way. It was literally what they had to do to earn a living—tramp about the countryside on foot, looking for work.”

  “If they’d only found a good woman to marry,” Allan said, “they’d have settled down and saved a lot of the wear and tear on their shoes.”

  “That reminds me, I have to show you my little ‘bride’s tree,’” Rachel said and disappeared into the dining room for a moment. She emerged with a miniature fir tree, upon which tiny glass ornaments were hung. “These are our very first ornaments, given to me by my mother on the day I married Joseph. There are twelve ornaments, and each has a symbolic religious meaning to help ensure a happy life for the newlyweds.”

  “They’re so small, like dollhouse ornaments,” Edwina mused as she admired the little tree. “Do you know the meanings for the different symbols, Mrs. Holzmann?”

  “Let’s see if I can remember them,” Rachel said and started to point to each one. “The angel is for God’s guidance, the rabbit for faith and hope, the teapot for hospitality, the house for protection and shelter, the rose for affection, the bird for happiness, the basket of fruit for generosity, the flower bouquet for good wishes, the pinecone for motherhood, the fish for God’s Blessing, the Santa for goodwill—”

  “And a heart for true love,” Joseph said, coming over to give his wife an affectionate kiss on the brow.

  “Could you stay that way for just a second?” Ted asked as he backed up to take a photo of the Holzmanns and their bride’s tree.

  Unfortunately, he was so engrossed in adjusting the dials of his camera and looking through his lens that he didn’t see the table behind him.

  “Ted, please, stop!” an alarmed Louise called out as he came too close to the edge.

  It was already too late. The table tilted and fell over with a crash.

  Chapter Eight

  What the … oh no.” Ted whirled around and nearly dropped his camera as he surveyed the mess.

  Everyone looked horrified except for Rachel, who came over and put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, wanting to ease his embarrassment.

  “It’s all right. See?” She bent and picked up a four-inch-tall wooden nutcracker, which was not broken. “You picked the right table to bump into, young man.”

  “Mrs. Holzmann, I am so sorry,” he said, blushing as he crouched down to help her pick up the old toys that had been scattered. “I’m afraid I see the perfect shot and the rest of the world vanishes.”

  “It’s a beautiful camera you have there.” She righted the table. “Are you a professional photographer?”

  “Not yet, but I’m hoping to make it my profession.” He picked up an overturned bowl, set it on top of the table and began placing other nutcrackers in it. “If I could publish photographs of places like your home, Mrs. Holzmann, it would give people all over the country the opportunity to take a tour like this and never leave their armchairs.”

  “If you ever want your own home, Venson, you’d better stick to a regular job,” Max said. “You’ll never get a steady income selling pictures, however pretty they are.”

  Louise winced at the particularly unpleasant note in Max’s voice and how eager he was to take every opportunity to discourage the younger man from pursuing his ambitions. He must have sacrificed his own dreams long ago.

  After the table had been rearranged, Louise asked Rachel if Jane had been to her store lately.

  The antique dealer frowned. “No, Louise, I can’t say that I’ve seen her since, hmm, August I think. Why do you ask?”

  “I am trying to find a Christmas gift for her, and I was hoping she might have stopped in and shown some interest in something at your shop.”

  “When Jane has come to the store, it’s always to buy gifts for others. She never splurges on anything for herself.” Rachel gave her a sympathetic glance. “I wish I could recommend something, but I’m afraid I don’t know your sister well enough to do so.”

  “I’ll think of something,” Louise said. “Thank you anyway, Rachel.”

  They finished the tour with a round of thanks from the group and a promise to stop by the Holzmanns’ shop in town.

  “Gesegnete Weihnachten und ein glückliches neues Jahr,” Rachel said as she showed them out the front door. “A blessed Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all.”

  As the sun began to set, shoppers hurried to make their final purchases before the shops closed in Acorn Hill. The end-of-the-day bustle was cheerful as the tired but satisfied merchants happily rang up sales and wrapped parcels, and their customers delighted in reducing the number of items left on their shopping lists.

  Instead of going home, as they usually did, most of the shoppers and shopkeepers lingered downtown, gathering in a loose crowd in front of and along the sides of Town Hall. To help keep cold hands warm, June Carter had set up a little concession stand selling hot drinks and Clarissa Cottrell’s fresh donuts.

  Everyone was waiting for Acorn Hill’s ANGELs to give their Christmas performance.

  Inside the Town Hall, Alice handed out caroling booklets and made sure all of her young performers were wrapped up warmly in coats, mittens,
scarves and hats. “Now girls, don’t be nervous. Remember what Pastor Ley said about not rushing the songs, and try to smile and make eye contact with the audience. If you think you can’t smile, just look at me. That should do the trick.” The girls laughed. “I am very proud of all of you for all the hard work you’ve done preparing for this performance. Is everyone ready?”

  The girls chorused a resounding “yes,” and Alice chuckled as she led them out to take their positions in front of the audience. Parent volunteers handed out battery-powered electric candles to each girl, and when they were assembled, the tapered bulbs lit up each small face with a lovely, warm glow.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Alice said, “thank you for joining us this evening. The ANGELs of Grace Chapel have a wonderful selection of traditional carols to perform for you. We’ll begin tonight with ‘Go Tell It on the Mountain.’”

  Alice stepped to the front of the crowd and turned to face her young charges. She lifted her hands to signal the time to begin and the young girls’ voices blended together in harmony.

  All around them, proud parents, townspeople and delighted visitors listened to the time-honored songs of the season. Alice felt a familiar pang in her heart as she watched the girls. They had practiced these songs for weeks, at every meeting, and it showed in the very polished performance.

  The ANGELs’ shining eyes and happy expressions were reflected in the faces of the crowd by the time they reached the final stanza of the last carol on their program, “O Holy Night.”

  Truly He taught us to love one another,

  His law is love and His gospel is peace.

  Chains He shall break for the slave is our brother

  And in His name all oppression shall cease.

  Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

  With all our hearts we praise His holy name.

  Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,