It’s as elusive as Bigfoot and as endangered as the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker. Imagine my surprise when I came face to face with this being. For years, the status of this creature has been diminishing at an alarming rate. Personally, it’s been at least five years since my last encounter. Imagine my surprise when I haphazardly stumbled upon one. At first, I just stared in disbelief, then not wanting to scare my new friend, I slowly bowed my head to show a sign of respect, held out my hand as a small gesture of friendship and proceeded to make contact. I was so excited to be greeted with open arms. And I rejoiced. Then, of course, I pulled out my iPhone to take a picture to post on Facebook. No one would believe me. I needed proof. I found a family who buys a real live Christmas tree. I know…amazing. If you haven’t noticed, Christmas tree lots are not like they used to be. In fact, I drove past one in a parking lot the size of three spaces. Then it donned on me, my boys and countless other children will never experience life with a real Christmas tree in the house.
Let’s be more realistic about what they won’t experience; Mom yelling at everyone to pick, “a nice full tree, one without gaps. Be sure to check the needles and no; we are not flocking the tree, it’s just a bigger mess.” Then Dad and the Christmas Tree lot employee spend 30 minutes trying to figure out how to get this huge tree on top of the Datsun. Once home, the experience continues with foul language and how to get,“the bleeping tree through the bleeping door.” I especially loved watching my parents spend hours adjusting and arguing over the height and position of the tree. And Six hours later, after the sawing and cursing are over, it’s finally time to decorate the Tannenbaum. As children, we live the next few weeks excited about Santa Claus and the promise of gifts. In the back of our minds, we know at any minute that beautiful tree could catch fire and torch us up in our flammable pajamas. We’re reminded to make sure the tree has water, vacuum up the needles and keep the dog from drinking the tree water. It’s a full-time job. And sadly, my boys will never live in fear of Christmas tree combustion. Christmas is just not the same.
Now Dad pulls the tree out of the box; mom fluffs it, and it’s over. Within an hour and a half, the tree is up and decorated. But there is one thing that will never change; that’s Mom. For generations we will still be telling our kids, “don’t put all the ornaments on one branch, spread them out. Don’t put that there, and watch for gaps. Can we please not put all the ornaments around the bottom of the tree?” Although I’ve been tempted to re-arrange the baubles, I don’t. Soon enough I’ll be decorating the tree by myself.
