Memories of Decorating the East Wing
- stuckinourscreens
- Nov 21
- 3 min read
Three years ago this Thanksgiving week my husband, daughter, and I, had the opportunity to decorate the White House for Christmas. It’s a tradition that incorporates over 150 volunteers from across the nation and every state who spend three days hanging ornaments on trees, draping garland on fireplace mantels, and spreading glitter everywhere.
Volunteers are assigned to work in groups under the direction of someone who is responsible for transforming a specific area of the White House. We worked with a wonderful young couple who created the decorations for the East Wing… yes, the East Wing of the White House. For three magical days, we strung cotton balls on nylon strings that we hung from the ceiling of the East Wing colonnade. We turned the passageway into a magical winter woodland complete with snow, birch trees, owls, foxes, and the Biden pets, Commander and Willow.
From Friday through Sunday after Thanksgiving 2022, we had unlimited access to the first floor of the White House, including the East Room and the Lincoln Dining Room. Between those two rooms are the main entrance to the White House, as well as the Blue Room, the Red Room, and the Green Room. Aside from the West Wing and the private residence, we had the run of the place. The staff encouraged us to take time out from our assignments to meander through all the spaces that volunteers were decorating. It was beyond magical. We spent those hours in a permanent state of awe and ecstasy. It was a precious honor.
Dr. Jill Biden’s theme for the Christmas White House decorations in 2022 was “We, the People”… yes, We, the People, because as she so poignantly told us at the reception she later held for us, that the White House is the People’s House. Presidents don’t own it; we do. The president and his family get to occupy it. Their responsibility is to care for it and turn it over to the next first family.
I don’t recall that the people were consulted when the East Wing of the White House was recently torn down.
As you might expect, I went stone cold when I saw the wrecking balls turning the space we so joyously decorated three years ago into dust and rubble. Now my memories of those days there are even more precious than they had been. I will forever be sick and angry about it. No one will ever get to walk through the doors and make their way through the colonnade again. It is gone, destroyed, forever.
The East Wing was where the people arrived at the White House. It was where nonpolitical visitors or guests for a party or dinner entered. We worked at tables set up where photographers take pictures of those arriving for these events. There are thousands of photos out there of just about anyone who had the good fortune to be invited to the White House, all snapped in exactly the spot we occupied for three days.
The East Wing was where “we, the people,” had access to the public part of the White House that housed the small theater… a place known to be used by first families for decades. The theater was a cozy place, not grand by today’s standards, but valuable for its historical significance. Now it no longer exists.
Neither does the office occupied by first ladies, so many of whom were champions of promoting literacy, strengthening the arts, encouraging pride in making America beautiful or healthy, or advocating for the poor. First ladies often stood up for families, especially ones that the West Wing folks may not have been so concerned about.
It has not been lost on me that some of what was undermined by the loss of the East Wing is the humanity that should reside in the White House complex. The bash and crash destruction of part of our history is very much a metaphor for what is happening to the people of this country. Part of the identity of the people was wantonly eviscerated when the president unilaterally destroyed part of our house.
We don’t need a ballroom; we need a realignment of who we are and what is important to us. Whether our identity is being cudgeled into pieces or splintering on its own, identities are shifting, and it is not good.
We need a conversation about what we value before there is nothing of value left to save.
