Throughout the years there is a battle that takes place in my family’s home right around this time. Apart from Easter, Christmas is one of the most beloved holidays that my family celebrates. The savory aroma of sausage rolls and shortbread emerging from the kitchen, the lovely fresh evergreens hanging with their burgundy bows from every stained glass transom, the warm glow and crackle from the flames dancing in the fireplaces, and emanating over the lovely chorals of Kings College comes the grunting verbal bellowing of my father's frustrations as he takes on the Christmas tree.
As far back as I can remember the day after Thanksgiving has always been the designated day we spend decorating our house in celebration of our Savior’s birth. This too is the day that we all know to stay clear of dad. For the sake of our Christmas the living room becomes off limits.
Now our Christmas tree has changed forms throughout the years. For the past few years we have relied on a massive 10’ tall imitation Douglas fir. What attracted my father to this tree was ease of assembling it. The branches just folded down and thus it was rather simple. That is until you have to deal with the reality of stringing lights; and oh the amount of lights that a 10' tall tree needs! For starters it is inevitable that no matter the quality of lights or the hours spent every previous year restringing... they are just not all going to go on. This reality never really seems to sink in with my dad and so one can always tell when this moment arises from the choice words that are heard coming from the direction of the living room.
The most memorable tree would have to be the old plastic one of my childhood. Now if any of you are familiar with this model the idea behind it was that each branch was labeled and went in its assigned spot on the trunk for easy assembly. That was the idea… easy for Leonardo maybe. The rest of the house would be decorated and the crowning moment was still upon us, trimming the tree. It would take my father most of the day carefully laying out each pile of matching branches across the living room floor, always coming up short on branches and giving many stern warnings to my brothers and me "don't touch anything". Well into the evening the assembly would be complete and a sigh of relief as well as a great drain of Christmas spirit was radiating from my dad.
This year had a bit of a different end result. There was no letdown in the tradition of all the lights not coming on. In addition, there was a guilty pleasure for my mom and I as we watched from a safe distance the production of my dad trying to balance the base of the tree as well the challenge of wiring the tree to make sure that it didn’t topple over. Both actions may I add ended up with my father toppling over into the tree. You can draw your own conclusions on how placing the star went.
Alas after such an effort it was decided to retire this tree and opt for the first time ever a live tree which I might add looks lovely!
What would Christmas be without the frustrations that later turn into laughable memories!
