Village idiots love to get village buildings, accessories and ideas from each other. Like any other past-time, it is better when shared. For years, I only had Rita to village babble with. In the summer of 2001, I transferred to another floor in a different hospital, leaving the familiar (including my Rita) to work with a new group of nurses. At Christmas-time, all I got when I mentioned my village were blank looks. No babble. No plotting, planning, sketching. One night nurse was into Christmas decorating, but not villages. I was adrift in a sea without a fellow idiot to hold onto.

It's all about the details on a village once you get all the pieces (you think) you need. The assorted scene staging can keep a village idiot enchanted for hours. But then, another piece has to be added, and the village grows... and grows...and grows.

Villagers can become quite single-minded when looking for certain items. My youngest daughter Megan became my professional village shopper. She has located many an elusive piece, calling me at work from the store to describe it in great detail to see if it met approval. As new pieces replaced the original slightly cheesy versions, the village took shape, changing and improving with each holiday season. Like a happy person, it also began to spread out. The original 4 by 6 board platform created by my husband Ronnie could no longer hold the village, and the spillage out from under the Christmas tree placed on styrofoam bases crept out across the livingroom floor like a lava spill from a volcano, slow and steady.

Partners in Crime

Lemax did for the average joe Christmas villager what the PC clone did for home computing. It made villaging affordable, accessible and even popular. At last my village babble made at least some sense to others. Rita and I bought each other buildings, accessories and people, and the two villages grew. The more unique the gift, the more fun we had. I once stumbled on a wooden outhouse with a door that opens to reveal a naked, shaky Santa on a spring. Rita and I both proudly show these to visitors, always getting a smile.

Christmas of 1995 was a sad one for me and my family. My father died suddenly and unexpectedly of a massive heart attack December 10th. Although the tree and village were up already, no more gifts were purchased and no one celebrated. I couldn't wait to get the tree down, taking it down on Christmas Day and packing away the village. I didn't think I'd ever enjoy the holidays again.

The following Christmas, my dear friend Rita starting talking village with me as a way to get my spirit back. She had seen my village only once, but had endured HOURS of discussion about it. Little did she know what would happen next. I decided that working with my village was a way to keep the memories of all my family members alive. Rita contracted my disease and is now a card-carrying Village Idiot. About that time, Lemax hit Corpus Christi at Hobby Lobby, Walmart, Kmart and Jo'anns. We were like kids in a candy store.

When I first started buying my ceramic buildings, the only ones I could find, and more importantly afford, were at the local dollar stores, Walmart, and Hobby Lobby. The hunt for buildings and accessories took me to many places, making for one unique village that could never be strictly one brand of village product like Lemax or Department 56. I found myself looking for the pieces that reminded me of my family.

Village Idiots in Training-

I had to bribe them to sit on Santa's Lap.

A trip to the Mall does it everytime!

Bitsy thought Santa had left her a gift
REAL early, but she didn't care.

Christmas Village Idiots

My interest in Christmas villages started in the early 1990s. A local mall during the holiday season had a beautiful model train display, with streets, mountains, bridges, and cars. It was fascinating and detailed, and got my OCD juices flowing. I pictured the entire family gathered around a huge, intricate village scene, creating a one-of-a-kind holiday decoration along with unforgetable memories. A couple years later, I found a battery operated Christmas train set for under the tree, and Greenville was born. The first two years were truly pitiful. The village was so bare, the cats thought I'd left unusual toys on a new white bed just for them.

My Girls with Santa

Circa 1986

This photo with santa is from a pre-village Christmas trip to the Mall. My babies are both in their twenties now.

South Texas has no Fall to speak of. It's hot, windy and humid, then windy, cold and winter. But myself and a few other Christmas village idiots are already busy planning and dreaming of snow, Santa, and quaint village scenes. Such is the life of a village idiot. Down here, we don't often see snow, unless it's artificial and sprinkled lovingly over our christmas villages.