When I was growing up we spent Christmas in Kentucky and West Virginia with both my mother’s and father’s families. It was a special time, as I only got to see my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins once or twice a year. We typically spent Christmas day in the mountains of West Virginia with my mother’s family and either the Sunday before or after with my father’s family in Winchester. On my mother’s side, it was an intimate gathering as she came from a smaller family. Just us, my grandparents, one uncle, one aunt, and one cousin. My father came from a large family, so Christmas celebrations there were always huge - at least from my perspective. But the one thing both events lacked was a real Christmas Tree.
In West Virginia we had a small, table top artificial Tree that was perfectly adorned with lights, equally spaced - a true reflection of my grandmother’s penchant for neatness and order. The perfectly-wrapped presents were carefully placed below the table awaiting us to finish dinner, at which time we all gathered in the living room to share Christmas.
In Kentucky my grandparents had one of those Aluminum Christmas Trees you now see on ebay for around $500. It had the color wheel and everything. The ornaments were usually randomly placed, sometimes by us, the grandchildren. In both places, the attitude towards the Tree wasn’t so much it was an afterthought, but that it was not the important thing. It was the gathering of friends and relatives, the good food, and the sharing of each other’s company that got the most attention.
There was one Christmas, however, when we did not go south. I forget the reason, but it was the only Christmas I remember while growing up when we had a real Christmas Tree. We didn’t cut it ourselves - we just bought it at a local lot, but it was perfect. I had no idea Christmas could smell like this! In a short time the faint smell of evergreen wafted throughout the house. As soon as you came inside, there was no doubt it was Christmas - you could tell just by the smell!
After that one year we resumed spending Christmas with my parent’s respective families in the south. Don’t get me wrong - those artificial Trees were part of the experience, and I have very fond memories of them. But that one, special Christmas with that real Tree - I vowed then and there that when I grew up, I would always have a real Tree.
And so I have.
What I didn’t realize, however, is how much a part of our Christmas those real Trees would become. Over the years, the Tree has reflected the size of our family, our general mood that year, and our economic situation. For our first Christmas together after Janis and I were married, I insisted (of course) on getting a real Tree. It was everything you might expect:. It was full, fresh, and smelled like a thousand Christmases. We bought brand new lights, and ornaments, and garland and I will tell you right now - a better, more beautiful Christmas Tree had never been bought or decorated by anyone in the history of Christmas Trees.
At least that is how I felt.
The following Christmas, with our first kid on the way, Janis suggested maybe we could alternate and get the super-spectacular Tree every other Christmas, and buy your average, $10 garden center Tree the other years, just because “perfect” Trees cost so much and, struggling entrepreneurs that we were, this was, of course, the prudent thing to do - and I did not disagree.
We refer to the Tree that year as “the Charlie Brown Christmas Tree.” Compared to the previous year, it was pretty pathetic. Maybe half the decorations fit on the Tree, and - just like Charlie Brown’s Tree - it was pretty scrawny. Unlike Charlie Brown’s Tree, however, it didn’t get better once it was decorated. Instead, the Tree seemed to be working extra hard to please us as it strained under the weight of the lights, ornaments, and garland. At some point I remember uttering the phrase “never again.” Maybe more than once. Maybe more than a few times, even.
At times, our Christmas Tree seemed to empathize a bit too much with our plight. When times were good, the Tree was healthy and vibrant. But when times were bad, the Tree seemed to suffer somehow with us, usually by shedding its needles way too fast.
There was one particular year when the Tree seemed particularly in tune with our lives. It was the low point in what we refer to as “our personal dark age,” generally referred to by others as “the eighties.” Things seemed to be spiraling downward in our lives, due to events that were entirely out of our control. My father had been sent to jail for white collar crime (which seems totally ironic given the country’s current economic situation - maybe he was just ahead of his time), and my mother was dying of cancer. Our business was failing as it was tied to my father’s finances and with three young boys to take care of, well, let’s just say we felt defeated and exhausted most of the time.
It was in this year the Tree kept falling over. It fell over before we decorated it. It fell over while we were decorating it. It even fell over once AFTER it was decorated. Try as we might, we couldn’t seem to get it to stand up straight and stay standing. We couldn’t find the reason, either. The trunk was straight, the stand was on tight. No clue. But this was the one thing by which we would not be defeated. Of all the things that went wrong that year in our lives, Christmas was the one time of year we could forget about all of it and look towards the future. It was at this point our Christmas Tree became a symbol of hope. Once we finally had it decorated and put presents under it, we seemed to hold it up through sheer collective will power. Whenever we would enter the room we would stare at it as though we were defying it to fall over. At that point, it wouldn’t dare. It was scared stiff, which is probably the only thing that kept it upright for the rest of the season.
As we all got older, the Christmas Tree became symbolic of Christmases past, starting with one of those “Baby’s First Christmas” ornaments for Cary in 1981 (Adam and Jarret got theirs as well, in 1983 and 1985). Over the years those store-bought, plain ornaments have become fewer and fewer, being replaced by unique snippets of our past. As we travelled, we tried to buy an ornament that could serve as a reminder of the event. Each year, as we decorate the Tree our ornaments remind us of the events that have shaped our lives. The Christmas House ornament reminds us of the year the kids met actors that played munchkins from the Wizard of Oz. The Jackson Hole ornament reminds me of a trip I took for Apple. Boston, New York, New Orleans, Las Vegas, Seattle, Miami, Key West, Arizona, Texas, Edmonton, Racine, The Dells. They are all there.
Each year, for a little less than a month, the Christmas Tree becomes a living scrapbook that tells the story of our lives. Also included are ornaments made by Janis’ piano students, and there are the obligatory ornaments made by our kids - some from as early as pre-school. There is even an ornament that used to be on that little Christmas Tree on the table in West Virginia.
More importantly, however, is how the Tree symbolizes hope. Its majesty, sitting here in our dining room, stoically holding our memories and guarding the wrapped treasures beneath it tells us we made it this far, and had wonderful, interesting experiences along the way. Its very presence reminds us our journey is not over, and next year’s Tree will add yet another chapter, God willing.
May all who read this look back on your journey with fond memories and have a wonderful, healthy, prosperous 2009. Peace, Love, and Happiness, y’all!
