The Decanters Below the Christmas Tree

Dad and the boozy Christmas of my youth

For many years when I was a young boy, I was very resentful of my father, George, when Christmas rolled around. You would have needed to see our Christmas tree in the two weeks leading up to the Holiday to understand why.

My father worked in homebuilding, first for his Father-in-Law who built hundreds of homes in Marin County, California, and then for himself building custom homes around the County. For years and years, my father was the one who doled out jobs, bonuses, and sub-contractor arrangments and was generally the Candyman for numerous folks working in and around the construction industry in Marin County.

So, when Christmastime rolled around, those folks George had hired over the year paid tribute with a Christmas gift. And they were all the same: Alcohol. Usually brown alcohol.

But not just any alcohol. In the two weeks leading up to Christmas, every night George would run his Ranchero into the garage, open the door from the garage to the house, and yell out, “Tom, come here and help me with this stuff.”

This stuff was decorative decanter after decorative decanter of Wild Turkey, Jim Beam, Old Grandad, and more. The Decanters were all in decorative boxes with ribbons around them, but you could tell what they were. Turkey decanters, ceramic Christmas present decanters, decanters depicting old men sipping whiskey, decanters in the shape of seductive women, decanters shaped like ducks or raccoons or top hats. The variation was endless.