I have an army of nutcrackers under the tree. And across the windowsill. These severe-looking soldiers bring back a lot of memories because they came from family. Most of  them were gifts from Chuck and Carol Colwell and family, who now reside in the upper peninsula of Michigan. My kids’ aunt and uncle are very close to us even though they are 14 hours  away. And I stay in touch with my nieces and nephews and families through Facebook. Please Chuck and Carol — get on Facebook!

The armada of crackers also trace history. One has a tennis racket. Another one holds skis. One is clearly a fisherman who resurrects memories of fishing on the upper peninsula in an “On Golden Pond” type moment when Uncle Chuck and my kids were determined to catch a fish as the sky over the lake darkened.

One nutcracker is small compared to the others. He is white porcelain and dated 1999. I got him free when I bought something that year at whatever the Boston Store had become at the Millcreek Mall.  He stood majestically on the windowsill in my old house and in this one.  He plays some of Tchaikovsky’s suite if you turn him upside down, but he decided to play every morning as sunlight hit him. He’s done so since 1999.  My family has come a long way since 1999. I was a single mom with three kids, and now this blended family is full of wise crackers.

The kids have bought me  nutcrackers, and they played with these every year when they were little. Most of these guys are glued together, and some date back to the 80s.  I put a hold on increasing the herd years ago. It was getting a little creepy that there were more of them than us. Way more.

It’s funny how an ornament or knick-knack can spark memories. Lots of memories are on the tree, under the tree and on the windowsill. And you know you can actually use these guys to crack nuts. Sweet.