I thought about it right after Thanksgiving and then asked myself, “Do I want to put up the tree and all of the decorations this year?” I didn’t bother to answer me, just thinking of getting everything down, all the work, and even wondering what Ken’s reaction would be held little appeal. He does so much redecorating anyway: magazines in the cookie jar, newspapers tucked neatly in the refrigerator or oven, his hairbrush and comb in the candy dish and rolls of bathroom tissue often line the mantel. Did I want him pulling off the ornaments and hiding them so our mysterious “someone” wouldn’t steal them, or would he try to fit the small ones in his shirt pocket because they were pretty — or of great value. Or worse, not remembering its purpose, he might ask me to take the tree down. Was I going to be Scrooge this year and say, “Bah, Humbug” to so many years of tradition, even though I shop for Christmas all year-long? If there is no tree, where will I put all of those wrapped gifts?
As I pondered, granddaughter, Katie, asked, “Is there something I can do for you, Grandma?” I assured her that things were pretty well in order. Then she suggested, “Can I help you put up the Christmas tree?” Without hesitation I answered, “That would be lovely.” Two days later she was up on the ladder handing down boxes of decorations and I was truly happy about her willingness to help. In my heart of hearts I wasn’t ready to give up on decorating for the Holidays, reminding myself that all of our married life Ken and I always had a Christmas tree.
The first one, of course, was small and simple. Our budget didn’t stretch far, allowing us only a few lights and a box of ball-shaped ornaments. Ken’s mom added a few of her’s to our meager beginning. We debated about a star for the top, and then decided on a glass spire which reminded us of the spires on churches reaching toward Heaven, which we felt, was also a remembrance of what the season is all about. We could make a few “Stars of Bethlehem” for the branches to fill in around our limited ornaments.
As the number of years began to increase in our marriage, so did children, enriching our lives while keeping our budget in a continued tight rein. Each year we searched for the best buy on Christmas trees even if it meant buying one a few days before December 25. We filled the lower branches with unbreakable and paper ornaments which could be touched and held by little ones, and then placed back on the branch following close scrutiny and a few teeth marks as stamps of approval. Our family dog shared in the joy of Christmas trees by excitedly wagging her tail removing strands of tinsel in a single swoop, and on occasion managed to tangle herself in the lights. Fortunately, Ken was there to grab the tree while I rescued the dog. The early years seemed to be set up for a touch of calamity.
One year in search of a tree to fit our Holiday allowance, we spotted a lot advertising, “ALL TREES — $1.50.” Upon closer examination, they all rivaled Charlie Brown’s pitiful story book tree. I found one with a beautiful front, but no back. Ken found its match. Holding them back to back they made one perfect tree. “We’ll go home and I’ll wire them together,” said Ken.
“Hey, wait a minute, I can’t sell you that for $1.50,” declared the lot manager observing our beautiful, full tree. Where did you find it? It’s worth at least $10.00.
“You’re right, replied Ken pulling them apart, “it’ll be $3.00 for two trees.”
“Great idea,” exclaimed the main man. “I’ll match up a bunch and have my lot cleared in no time at all. Merry Christmas.”
So, for more than a half century we’ve had a Christmas tree; sometimes, depending on how ambitious I felt, we’ve even had two. This year, the tradition continues; for that I am grateful, and I’m especially grateful for Katie.
To finish decorating I hung wreaths in the windows, laced garlands of fresh evergreens across the mantel, scattered holly, pine cones and then sprinkled it all with tiny white lights. Legend says Christmas elves hide among the garlands and bring good luck. With Katie’s help my house is alive with Christmas and the accompanying spirit of happiness and joy.
Ken hasn’t bothered any of it, almost seeming to know it’s symbolic of something. I remind him often that it’s our Christmas tree even though the word Christmas appears to have little meaning for him. Yet, the other evening we walked briefly through the neighborhood to look at the lights. After the rains the air was clear and a bit crisp and as we walked he said, “I haven’t been Christmas shopping.” “We’ll go next week,” I assured him.
Back home, in front of our own Christmas tree I couldn’t help but think that somewhere, most likely not in his mind, but deep in his heart, perhaps even deeper – in his soul — he knows of Christmas, knows of the babe in a manger bringing hope to mankind of eventually having peace on earth, good will to all men, and the promise of ever-lasting life.
And Tannenbaum, with your overly simplistic English words, “We stand before the Christmas tree, a symbol for the faithful,” welcome once again to our house.
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