Sorry for the lack of writing this week. It’s been a little busy with life stuff creeping back into my regularly-scheduled programming. I wandered around the city yesterday in a very Merry Christmas fashion. I saw carolers at the seaport, floated through a sea of tourists at 30 Rock, and assembled my pre-lit artificial tree.
AN ARTIFICIAL TREE? Blasphemy. What could I possibly be thinking? The box wouldn’t fit in the trunk of the car, and the thing weighed damn near 75 pounds. The initial thought was, “You live in a 6-floor walk-up now.” Needles, clean up, watering, take down… essentially, once I “git er’ up,” she can stay stored neatly in a convenient bag until next year.
While executed for efficiency, I realized I had cut a time tested tradition(s) out of my yearly routine: THE HUNT for the perfect tree. Once upon a time, I used to round up the wife and dog, hop in the truck, and head to Jones’ Tree Farm and go Griswold-deep into the commercialized “cut your own” world just like Mom did (and I would guess like her parents did for her).
Eventually, I didn’t have the truck, nor the wife and dog for that matter. But the roommate and I found a tree on the street that first year after my mom died. And by “found,” I mean we literally found a perfectly-good tree on top of a pile outside of a classy building And it was one of those things. Those signs. You don’t quit on Christmas. EVER. So we dragged this lightly-used tree back, and I have to admit it was one of the best trees ever decorated.
Last year, David actually sent me a picture, which I need to drum up somewhere, but Ebenezer actually bought and decorated his own little tree. Which was an absolute first. I used to have to drag the Christmas Cheer to this doorstep in some manner—a wreath or a little rosemary tree. And he would reluctantly take it in. But last year, he got himself a lil’ baby guy and got it all decorated, and I saw a genuine interest he took in creating a nice little tree. He’d come to my tree-trimming parties and put one ornament on my tree and then go back to the television. But secretly, I know he actually liked coming by… he was just getting used to doing it without Mom, and we both were learning and adapting to our new version.
So here I am with 75 pounds of recycled-something with my ultra realistic BalsamHill 7.5’ Artificial Vermont Spruce—pre-lit of course. (I did stop at the real X-mas tree guys and snag some cut branches in hopes that I can bury them into the tree and get some of that lovely evergreen smell in the room.)
And with reservation in my heart, I started assembling. Piece by broken piece, re-assembling a new type of Christmas—one that no longer includes a day at the Derby-Milford Roadhouse, one that no longer includes the annual trip to forget the days at Derby-Milford Road. Part C into the stand, add little metal key, connect B to C and gently fold out and fluff branches, part A to B, connect socket in part B, plug into wall.
And you know what? A little adjustment here and there and this artificial tree doesn’t look so bad! It’s gonna be okay. It’s not going to be the same, but it’s a good base from with to build. Maybe a little less hassle, or maybe completely up to me to build something entirely new and add my own evergreen smell to it.
I don’t like the concept of my artificial tree because it took away the tradition and left a big gap that needed to be filled, but it was filled eventually. And like everything else, this, too, will pass, and the “new” will become welcomed familiarity… or maybe this artificial tree is just a little crutch for this year and maybe next, and I’ll be cutting down trees again in the future. Either way, you never give up on Christmas.
