When Karen Stone begins the journey to the attic for her Christmas boxes with her 8-year-old granddaughter, the two walk the same path that Stone herself walked as a child.
She shows her – or any of the other 13 grandchildren who happen to be about – how to carefully unwrap the same ornaments that Stone’s mother showed her as a young girl. Peppered in with the memories from decades past are more recent ones, such as the ornaments Stone made as a girl. Or the ones her children made.
Though Stone’s children are all grown now, with children of their own contributing ornaments, Stone still preserves space on the tree for the far-reaching memories. After all, she says, that’s what a tree should really be about; what the holidays should really be about.
“We cut our own tree each year, too,” she says. “We just go right out to the backyard and pick one.”
That, too, is a tradition left over from her own childhood, possible thanks to the wooded area surrounding her beloved Signal Mountain home along the brow. Though two generations later, it’s her grandchildren helping her select one.