Dear Spike:
We went to fetch a tree tonight. It wasn’t the most romantic of quests. We simply drove a few blocks to the local supermarket, found a decent looking fir, and threw it into the back of the wagon for the three-minute drive home. The whole process took 15 minutes, tops.
Back when I was a kid, my family used to drive up into the mountains to choose our tree at a farm. We’d pack a thermos of chili and some cornbread to eat on the way, then spend hours searching for the perfect tree. Sometimes when we thought we’d found a good one but weren’t 100 percent sure, we’d mark it with a few sticks or dead branches and move on. When we’d finally settled upon a tree — assuming no other family got to it first — my siblings and I would all take turns lying in the mud and hacking away with a saw.
Your mother tells me she had much the same experience, except her family always brought along a wide piece of cardboard to lie upon so they wouldn’t get muddy while chopping down the tree. (At least one side of your family seems to have some common sense. Let’s hope you have inherited those genes.)
However unspectacular the means of this year’s harvest may have been, I do love having a tree in our home. It fills our whole house with the rich scent of pine and seems to bring a freshness to the air. Sometimes — especially late at night — I find myself just staring into the lights.
I hate the fact that “the Christmas season” starts as soon as Halloween ends. At the grocery stores, out go the Freddy Kruger masks, in come the animated Rudolf lawn statues. The radio stations play endless carols. Downtown is decked in lights and tinsel.
We prefer not to dilute our holiday cheer. Two weeks before Christmas Day, we set up our humble tree. We play a little Bing Crosby. And we place on the mantle the olive wood nativity set I picked up in Israel a few years back.
It’ll all be gone by the New Year. That way, when Christmas comes around next year, and the next, and the next, we won’t be too tired of the season to appreciate what it means.
Love,
dad
2 comments:
I hate the earlier & earlier start to the Christmas "Season". I still don't have my tree up but hope to do it this weekend. It will not be a live/real tree this year but hope to go back to the real thing next year. I do keep the decorations up until Epipthany so the late start won't be so bad.
Looking forward to hearing about Spikes first Christmas. Thanks again for sharing your beautiful family with us.
After some angst, Uncle Bruce agreed to a tree this year. It proudly stands as a testament to the power of whining ( mine of course) He was going to build me one with scrap lumber and pine boughs from our woods ( the ones that came down in the last blowing storm )but I had visions of this counterfeit icon falling on top of one of my precious grandchildren. No, that simply would not happen.
Well, Matt and Heidi and Mia, we are going to need some photos soon. Perhaps an elfy elferson or the like. This is the time to do it because in a precious few years, it simply will not be tolerated. Just try to do that when she is 7 years old. With Christanna, it was age 3. It was clear that she found her fashion feet and I had to release my need to "cute" her up. Well, my Christmas sweeties. Stay cozy and enjoy the season. They pass very quickly, you will miss them. More fun will come along but you will remember these early Christmas with such fondness. All our love,
Aunt Karen and Uncle Bruce
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