Oh, Christmas Tree
by Christi Caldewll
Nothing says Merry Christmas like a New England Christmas. Every year since I was a toddler, I’d bundle up (or in those days BE bundled up) and go tromping through the snow, up a mountain to find the perfect tree.
If you’ve ever seen one of those mini-Christmas scene villages that’s what we always thought our Christmas tree expedition would be like.
The reality was always something different altogether. Those days my father had to work two jobs to support our family. The only way we’d be able to get our tree home was not by pulling it by a horse-drawn sleigh — or even in a spacious truck or mini van — but atop the roof of our two door red Ford Escort. Then there was our family of four; our poor dad was outnumbered 3:1 in the female to male ratio. So what did this mean for Christmas tree hunting? It meant that each of us hsd different views on the perfect tree.
I liked them tall and fat.
Then of course my bleeding-heart sister wanted to save every last small, sorry looking tree.
Lastly you have my mom… who, as long as it was loaded with tinsel, any tree would do. That is as long as she could be the one to pick it out.
We always imagined the perfect tree-hunting day but the reality always turned out something more like Chevy Chase’s Christmas vacation. Family bickering over the perfect tree, my poor dad struggling to load that tree onto our tiny car while the three girls all sat inside, bundled up and warm.
But the laughter we have over those Christmas tree expeditions is so much greater than the perfect miniature Christmas village!
What about you? Are you particular when it comes to your Christmas tree?
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