12-9-01,Lisa Laird, 660 words
Lisa's Lair
By Lisa Laird
IPS Features
SEEING RIGHT THROUGH THE CHRISTMAS TREE
Every December, I reflect upon my memories of Christmas over the years. I ruminate about what mattered to me and how my life has changed throughout the progression of time. I think about the people who have come and gone, as well as those I always wished were there, but never were. And I wonder whom I miss more. I’d like to say I was fortunate enough to experience the picture perfect celebration I repeatedly hoped for, where the whole family gathered together creating one safe, joyous, and loving winter wonderland. I cannot. However, I never lost sight of the true and most important meaning of Christmas and all that I have to be thankful for.
My father never had much Christmas spirit.
He proclaimed that people forgot the true meaning of the holiday and it
was basically turned into a marginally religious occasion.
I’ve since realized that this was the red herring he thrust upon us to
excuse himself from spending his hard earned money on gifts for his wife and
children. Therefore, my sister and I were permitted only a few
inexpensive presents. My mother,
God bless her, would slip us something very special each, usually a piece of
jewelry, without his knowledge. Basically,
opening gifts in front of him was a very stressful ordeal.
If we were too overjoyed, we were terribly materialistic.
Displaying moderate enthusiasm showed ungratefulness.
Every year, we went through the ritual of buying a live
tree. When I was a kid, a
healthy Christmas tree cost ten dollars or so.
My father spent three. Mom,
Dad, Sis, and I searched at least an hour each year looking for the most
salvageable three-dollar tree. In
other words, we had to find the best of the worst.
Of course, Dad was always the one to locate the perfect tree for our
family. He’d stand it up with his
hand clenching the trunk as if he found the winner.
If there was less than a foot of space between branches, it was a keeper.
So, my father would proudly hand over his three dollars, as if he were
purchasing a flashy watch, and tie the tree on the roof of the car.
Once home, the decorating rite would commence.
We had to place a ton of tinsel and garland on the tree to hide the bare
spots. The finished product was
nothing less than a gaudy eyesore year after year.
However, we were lucky to have a tree at all, so, we never complained.
One year, in particular, we had the scrawniest tree in
all of creation. This one was so
bare, while sitting on the sofa we could look through the branches and see out
the living room window. As the tree
looked so poorly, Dad came up with the idea of sawing off branches from the
bottom of the tree and then implanted them into holes he drilled higher up on
the trunk to fill in the bare spots.
During December 1984, he really outdid himself.
The day after Christmas, we were expecting a few relatives to stop by for
a visit. The morning of the 26th,
we drove by an abandoned Christmas tree lot, where he helped himself to the
fullest, most beautiful tree I had ever seen.
While gazing at him in disbelief, he secured it to the roof of the car
and smiled all the way home. We
quickly transferred the decorations from the three-dollar tree to this
breathtaking one. Needless to say,
our guests raved about this gorgeous Christmas tree.
My father proudly thought he pulled off his little switch stunt smoothly.
I wish all of you could have been there to see the
expression on his face when he showed our holiday pictures to friends and was at
a loss for words when asked how the tree magically flourished overnight.
Santa works in mysterious ways…Ho! Ho! Ho!
Merry Christmas!!!
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