O Tannenbaum

We had a fake tree every year of my childhood. Granted it wasn't anywhere near as fake and decrepit as my best friend's Christmas tree - which was basically in complete Charlie Brown style and was pulled out, I assume, as a family joke year after year. Needless to say I was thrilled when we moved back to the mainland after a couple of joyous Mele Kalikmakas and Mr. Man suggested we get a real Christmas tree. Our first tree, I forget the exact type, gave me the worst rash ever. My sensitive skin couldn't handle it, and I was ultimately allergic to our tree. I had to wear gloves and long sleeves in my attempt to decorate, and quickly abandoned the effort. But the tradition had begun. The scent, the reality, the adventure begged for a new family tradition. Year after year we spent hours at local Christmas tree farms, taking turns finding the "perfect" tree. When we followed my influence the tree was small and branchy - I love that look. Mr. Man's influence was rather large; meaning our small home was typically swallowed up by a tree that brushed both the ceiling and the walls. This year was Mr. Man's turn to sway the direction of the family Christmas tree.

This was also our first time to venture out into the wild to hunt. In true Montanan style we purchased our five dollar tree permit and headed into the forested mountains in the freezing cold four feet deep snow in search of Mr. Man's vision of a Christmas tree. It was quite the adventure. And after three and a half hours, I couldn't help but compare our search to the Griswald family old-fashioned Christmas tree escapade. We were frozen. Mr. Man's saw was not quite up to the job at hand. The children were whining. And we still had to trek all the way back to the car with our too-tall tree. But it's beautiful, it was a memorable tradition-fulfilling adventure, and the cheapest tree we've ever hunted! And I love that wild trees shed nary at all.


This is the first year I have happily, and without remorse, given up trying to decorate my tree. It's the kids tree and I'm surprisingly fine with that. It just hit me that this childhood phase is going to be short lived and one day I'll be alone in my house with Mr. Man and the hunt and the decorating will be a quiet and sullen time without them. So I embrace the disorganized decorating style, though I did arrange a small bell relocation committee when all the bells had found their way to two lower branches. I think only two of my breakable ornaments bit the dust this year, and I was non too sympathetic when one of Miss J's special ornaments was dropped and broken beyond repair. It was momentarily satisfying to see her comprehend how it feels to have that happen. And she suddenly became my voice of caution to her brothers as they carefully handled the remaining ornaments.

The tree is such a symbol of Christmas. And our tree, a grand representation of our family: a unified attempt at something bigger and more beautiful than we could ever be individually.