You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The Christmas Tree.
It’s the center piece of every Merry Xmas Moment and signifies that the best time of the year is upon us.
The 2013 edition of my Xmas Tree is in my living room. It is a Frasier Fir, 9 feet tall and if I must say, quite spectacular.
The tree is sparkling and smells like the side of a wintry mountain.
Today is Mr. Tree’s 2nd day. I think he likes it here. He is stretching his branches, yawning, waking up to a warm inviting house.
I gave him a gallon of water last night and like a thirsty pine Pirate, he drank it up.
AARRGGHH!
I woke this morning and checked in on this pristine pine.
“Hello Mr. Tree. You doing well?”
I checked his stand and it was empty.
“thirsty again?”
I fill his bowl with room temperature water.
“sorry about the Franklin water,” I laugh.
I swear he burped a sigh of thanks.
Sure thing Pine Pirate.
The Christmas Tree is a symbol of the season.
The tree is the place for the presents below and the star above. It’s a patchwork quilt for family memories woven together with pine needles and tinsel.
Once in the home, a Christmas Tree takes on the characteristics of that family. Like a time capsule, it captures the holiday memories in its branches. A child’s ornament made of tongue depressors can sit on one branch right next to Grandma’s priceless glass swan.
The Tree is a powerful symbol of the season. It looks like Christmas. It smells like Christmas. It holds the memories of Christmas’ past.
Procuring the tree has long been a source of romance.
The Charles Dickens version is to is to enter a mountain forest with new fallen snow. The story book notion is to take your children, your lover, your soul and your Christmas Spirit into the woods.
Some say a prayer beneath a canopy of time and the holy star. Others take a moment to be blessed by the wood fairies who dance around the pines.
Then they take out a saw and delicately cut the tree from Mother Earth.
Drag it to your SUV and bring it home where the Christmas Doves, a freshly washed Golden Lab, grandma and the decorating people from Hall Mark are waiting to transform your home and your Christmas tree into the perfect holiday moment.
That’s the Dickens version of the Christmas Tree.
Then there’s the rest of us, fighting for a dollar, fighting for time, trying to cram 10 pounds of Christmas into a 5 pound Christmas stocking.
For many of us, getting the tree fast and efficiently is the answer.
Where’s that Frazier Fir drive through?
Tis the Season for expediency.
So I find myself in a Home Depot on a Friday night.
Romantic? Maybe if you like neon lights and power tools. If you need wood nymphs and biblical stars in the sky, this is not for you.
But I don’t have time for romance. I need celerity and this is way easier than putting chains on your tires and praying to Owls and hob gobblins in a dark secluded monestary of Christmas foreboding.
So I push open the big garden doors and let the winter breeze smack me in the mouth.
The garden section is remarkably free of life.
“Is everyone in the fairy forest?” I mutter aloud.
“Yeah dad. Everyone is in the fairy forest,” My 15 year old son says mocking me.
We walk down the aisle where Christmas trees are wrapped like pine needle hot dogs.
The signs are written with magic marker: 8-9 foot Frazier Fur $59.99
It’s a crap shoot of tree selection.
Each Fir is wrapped in a plastic mesh straight jacket. All the trees seem the same.
The trees are wrapped so tightly, they are skinny. Without a ruler, I guess it’s 8-9 feet tall.
I look at another dad holding his tightly bound tree.
“Winner Winner Chicken Dinner” I yell.
He smiles.
“Looks a lot like the one you are gonna get,” he retorts.
He’s right. They all look the same.
I pull a tree from the pile.
It’s heavy. Really heavy.
“Feels really healthy,” I say to my son.
“Really dad. Does it feel Healthy? How do you know it’s a healthy tree?”
I laugh. “Smart Ass.”
But he’s right. I’m not even sure how I know this.
It’s not like I have a green thumb.
Christ I’m lucky to have thumbs at all.
My tree knowledge is diminished, much like a Ken doll’s crotch is diminished.
But I’m a Home Depot Tree veteran.
Sometimes the tree you pick is a rat tree with dandruff and skin problems. Sometimes the tree has bald spots and obvious signs of trauma.
This tree, though wrapped like a Christmas condom, just speaks to me.
“This is the one,” I say.
“Really dad? Is that the one? How do you know that’s the one? Did it say Hi dad, I’m your tree. Take me home.”
“When did you become this smart ass?,” I smile.
“Go get a cart.”
We load Mr. Tree on the orange cart and drag him to the Home Depot seasonal worker.
“Fresh Cut?” he asks holding his chain saw like an extra in a Jason Halloween movie.
I nod.
We both struggle to throw Mr. Tree on the operating table.
It is heavy. It’s thick. It feels fresh.
“This is a good tree,” he says having picked up 1000 trees today.
“The cold and the rain we’ve had. Great for these Christmas trees.”
I look at my son who smiles at me.
“See,” I say.
“Is it healthy dad? Is it?”
“As if we had gone into the forest of Christmas Foreboding and cut it down ourselves,” I smirk.
Huh?
“Never mind.” I roll my eyes at him.
So I bought a tree, sort of sight unseen. And when I unwrapped it, well it was magnificent.
And yes I got it at Home Depot.
Buying a tree at Home Depot is like buying a wedding cake at the Salvation Army.
Remember it’s not how many homeless guys vomit on your shoes when you pick up the product. It’s what it tastes like when you finally get it in your mouth.
I don’t even know what that means.
Merry Christmas Everyone.
And to all a good night.
Life’s Crazy™