I’d like to thank my family, present and past.
My siblings: Eric Hilderbrand, Randall Osteen, Heather Osteen Thorpe, Douglas Hilderbrand. Also Lisa Hilderbrand and Todd Thorpe, Doug and Katharine Thurman, and Debra Thurman.
The gang: Robert, Patrick, Alexandra, Garrett, Parker, Spence, Tripp, and Anna.
My mother, Sally Hilderbrand, who is the undisputed Ornament Queen of Christmas, and my nutcracker go-to.
Judith and Duane Thurman, who have been like parents to me, and brought the Byers’ Choice carolers into my life.
Frank and Sue Cunningham, thank you for the Golden Dreams.
My grandparents: Bob and Bobbie Hilderbrand, and Clarence and Ruth Huling.
My aunts and uncles: Jan and Ruthann Hall, and Steve and Ruth Huling, and Alice; Jane Greene and my cousins Debi and Wendy.
My elves, the stars on my trees, my (not always) angels: Maxwell, Dawson, and Shelby.
My last best Christmas was the Christmas of 1983. My father and Judy and my siblings and I went to Mass at St. David’s Episcopal, where there was a live menagerie and a choir of angels, the church at five p.m. lit only by candles. On the way home, we stopped by a friend’s house to drink hot chocolate made with milk, vanilla, and cinnamon, and admire their twenty-foot Christmas tree. Then we headed home to watch Michael Jackson’s new video “Thriller,” for the first time. We ordered pizza and cheesesteaks, wrote our letters to Santa, and crawled into bed. It was the last Christmas I spent at my father’s house while he was alive, and so the memories are burnished not because of the details above, but because he was the one who tucked us in.
Christmas is about people. And I am grateful for those who are, and have been, in my life, but especially for my father, Robert H. Hilderbrand Jr.