By the time you read this, I hope to heavens the tree is up. Whatever tree could I be talking about? Why, ol’ Tannenbaum itself. “O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, how lovely are your branches.”
Yeah, maybe, though not necessarily those made in China bristling with polyvinyl chloride needles. And yes, despite claims to the contrary, plastic needles do drop, if not with the same regularity as real ones.
Those of you who’ve stuck with me lo these many years may recall that I lost the battle over real-versus-artificial some time ago — about the same time price tags on real Christmas trees started inching toward the $100 mark.
So we went artificial — grudgingly on my part. Which means every year I get to whine about it, while taking snarky pleasure in the fact that it takes my better-half at least a half-day to assemble our homage to Christmas made in China, and figure out why so many of those pre-lit lights no longer are.
Ah yes, if it doesn’t take me back to my carefree childhood days, listening to my father curse and yelp about all the burned-out bulbs he had to replace, one by one, on the Christmas tree. They called them series lights. One went out, they all went out. But which one? Or two, or three?
In time, my father would get most of the lights working — enough so that we kids would be called in to hang the bulbs and toss enough tinsel around to disguise the fact that our tree, more years than not, could have been the stand-in tree for the television classic, “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, my future husband was growing up in a home that featured, for a least one year that I am aware of, an aluminum Christmas tree. Perhaps that explains why on our first Christmas as newlyweds, he somehow crammed a real Christmas tree into our little red Corvair, drove it home and dragged it up the stairs to our second-story apartment.
When I arrived home, I found him trying to wedge the tree upright against a ceiling that just wouldn’t budge. I don’t remember how we solved that problem but I’m pretty sure it involved a saw of some sort.
And so it went, Christmas to Christmas, from apartment to house, and then another house, and then another house — some with low ceilings, some with high ceilings. Whatever the height, my husband always managed to fit a tree beneath. Barely.
Naturally, this led to many a cheery discussion at the various tree lots around town: He gravitating to the biggest trees in the lot, she resorting to such niggling queries as to how her beloved proposed to transport said tree home, then into the back door, down the hallway, past the furniture and into a room whose 7-foot ceiling might not accommodate an 8-foot tree. All the while, some guy named Earl working the tree lot would be idling his chain saw. Waiting.
Sigh. How I miss, if not those tender times, the fragrance that only a real tree can bring into a house. And no, tossing a few straggly fir branches around the house isn’t enough.
Meanwhile, for those of you who inexplicably pine for a genuine aluminum tree, one can still be had online for as little as $319 ($439 with color wheel). Good grief, Charlie Brown.
Speaking of which: For those of you who grew up with a less-than-perfect Christmas tree and want to rekindle those memories, you can buy various versions of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, both locally and online, for less than 20 bucks. Comes with scrawny branches, one red shiny ornament and a Linus blanket. Small disclaimer: The needles are plastic.
And finally, may your Christmas be merry, no matter the tree.
