As long as I can remember, getting the Christmas tree was one of the best, if not THE best, thing about Christmas. Mom and Dad would load up the four of us and we'd head out into the modern day forest of Christmas tree lots. We didn't have a favorite lot in particular, and many times we'd shop several before we found the perfect tree. I loved the smell whether it came from the needles on the trees or the needles I scooped up by the handsful from the ground. At once I was Heidi looking out of Grandfather's loft window at the snow-iced pines surrounding his chalet. Back to reality with Alice, Janet, and Jody racing up and down the aisles of Douglas firs calling for Mom and Dad to come look at the tree they'd found. It was quite an honor to be the "Selector of the Tree"...you'd have thought it came with a monetary prize! Dad would grab the tree by the top and spin it around so Mom could check for bare spots. After finding the one with the fewest flaws, Dad would fork over $2.50 and we'd head back home for a decorating session complete with a box of silver icicles for each one of us. We had as many in our hair at the end of the decorating as we did on the tree; nothing like an icicle fight to get you in the holiday spirit! The lights were the big ones with a strand or two of Big Mama's bubbling lights. If you squinted your eyes, they took on a magical aura. The night ended with eggnog and pallets on the floor so we could sleep underneath the most beautiful Christmas tree in Harlingen. Maybe not Currier and Ives, but not bad for the Johnsons.
Today, with row upon row of perfectly shaped trees, the whole experience has been reduced to finding one where the needles are still green and soft. They all look alike. The only variance is in the type of tree (I don't ever remember seeing a Scotch pine growing up in South Texas)and the outrageousness of the price tag. We were challenged to find a tree with shape, size, and price for our corner in the living room. Now, it's just grab and go...any goofball with a large bank account can have a perfect tree. Where's the thrill of the hunt? I challenge anyone today to go with me to find an old fashioned fir for $2.50 that will have as many fond memories!!
1 comment:
I used to think that people who bought plastic trees must be plastic themselves. But now I have one and I love it.
Somewhere through the years I got tired of real trees being half dead by Christmas, needles falling to the floor, turning pale, worrying if it would catch fire.
The kids still love decorating it to the extreme and they are so pretty. I do miss the smell of pine, but I don't feel plastic afterall and neither do my boys.
A couple of weeks ago their mother got very angry at them about something and decided them materialistic and took down the tree. It got the point across quickly to them. And the other good thing about her doing it, outside of teaching them a lesson, the joy of putting it up again.
Where God closes the door, He opens a window. It's still Christmas and I still love it. Even in this day of commercialism, there is still so much joy and devotion and appreciation for Christmas things and what God presents us too.
Merry Christmas to all from the unScrooge.
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