Germans are known for putting candles on Christmas trees, so you can understand where the song comes from. I, a man of German and Italian heritage mixed with a little something we like to call "mutt", married a woman who is German through and through. We have always had candles on our tree. After the rough start we have had this year, we may need to re-evaluate the need for candles on this particular tree.
We have a very nice, very flame resistant, artificial tree. It is so nice that every year people come over and have to ask if it is real or not. It stands the perfect height for our house, is really sturdy, and is relatively easy to put up!...It is also resting comfortably in its box under the pool table. You see, artificial trees do not smell. (well ours might...it's been sitting in the box for a couple of years now) In our house it has been decided by 3/4 of the population (4/6 if you include the dog and cat but honestly the cat abstains from most of the voting) that if it doesn't smell like a Christmas tree, it isn't really Christmas. I have, in years when the artificial tree was up, tried to explain to the credit card companies that it wasn't "really Christmas" and I shouldn't have to pay for all of these things that aren't "really" on the bill. They were not amused.
I have even bought pine scented candles, real wreaths, and those hanging car fresheners. "No kids! Those are ornaments you made in Kindergarten...don't you remember?" Nothing worked. A few years ago we marched into the woods and hunted down our own tree. Well, we marched into someone's lot of land in the Santa Cruz mountains and paid them the cost of a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant to be able to cut down our own tree. We had pictures of the kids "cutting it down." We had mud on our boots and rain on our heads. We also had tears rolling down the face of my wife. It was too much. She was sad that we were taking a majestic tree and stopping it from growing just so we could have a decoration for a while. This would be our last real tree!
And then she got over it. Now we charge into the tree lots, full of energy, with the saw raised over our heads like that painting of the French lady leading the charge in the revolution. You know the one, her blouse is half off. I'm just guessing that she's French. Americans don't go in for that sort of brazen nudity.
We now have pictures of Jake with a crazed look in his eyes getting ready to hack the snot out of a poor eight-footer. The difference with the pictures now is that the kids actually do cut it down. To them, my back would like to say, "Thank You." Oh wait, I have to carry it up the muddy, slippery hill to the truck? "Never-mind."
The selection process is always...I'm gonna go with "fun". We storm off and look, look, look, and then BAM! "That one is nice! It's the right height. It doesn't have any bare spots. It's really nice!" In my head, I always...foolishly...think, "YES! We did it! Start sawing!" And then, someone says, "Let's see if we can find a better one." (Sylvia and I had the same conversations while registering for towels and butter dishes before we got married...but that is a different blog) On the muddy hill we start searching for a better tree. Jake invariably points out the nicest tree on the land...but cannot explain how we will get all hundred and twenty feet into the house. Kristiana is much more interested in the wildlife on the hillside...primarily spiders that are "HUGE! We can't get that one!" After about an hour of searching, trudging, and diminishing many a poor tree's self esteem (by pointing out the premature arboreal-pattern-baldness) we eventually end up where? Say it with me...the first tree! We all knew it would happen. We go through the process anyway.
When we took our prize home we decided to set it up in the garage for a little bit. Someone (me) heard a story about an aunt who took the tree home from the forest, set it up in the house, and introduced a squirrel into the living room in the process. I may have seen it in a Chevy Chase movie, but I think it was a valid plan. I set it into the stand without any fuss, adjustments, or planning, and it stayed up for an entire day. 24 hours. Round the clock. No problem. No hay problemo. (for our Spanish speaking guests) And then we brought it into the house. dun dun dun dunnnnnnn (that there is called foreshadowing people...no extra charge!)
At this point I would like to explain that I have heard about people, families, spouses that have had trouble with the whole setting up the tree in the stand business. A friend of mine, who is also a fellow blog writer...and a darned good one I might add (if I was technically adept at all, this is where I would have a link that would take you over to Kim's page http://kim-thesummerofthebook.blogspot.com/ I'm so impressed with myself!) ...once told of a feeling of dread when the newlywed couple brought a live tree into the house. Her past experiences had shaped her feelings about future attempts involving real trees...and their stands. They worked it out, her fears were unfounded, and by gum...we could work it out too! In fairness to all the people who cannot seem to "work it out" I want to say that I understand! While laying on the ground holding the tree with one sappy hand and trying to adjust the fasteners with another, you just never know when the next verbal exchange can cause stress.
"Is this good?"
"It's crooked."
"Which way?"
"Turn it around."
"Which way?"
"Up."
"Up?! What does that mean?"
"The top needs to go up."
"Away from the wall? Toward the wall? Help me...my arm's falling asleep."
"Ooh! I love this commercial!"
"Commercial!? Can someone bring me a spiked eggnog...without the eggnog!"
(In the interest of marital harmony and honesty, Sylvia and I are much more skilled than that...and I do have a vivid imagination)
So now the tree is standing much like it did in the garage. Except now it is "secured' with four bolts that screw in from the side. It is not going anywhere! We thought. When we came out the next morning Sylvia noticed that there was water around the stand. Towel! Is the dog smirking? Hmmm? No, he's never done anything like that before. But there were a few dogs roaming the tree lot...maybe Fudge is marking his territory. I do the same thing when we buy a used car.
Then I got a text, from Sylvia, while I was at work..."The tree fell over. Jake and I put it back up." Exactly a third of the time it spent in the garage unsecured and it has been peed on, and fallen over. Luckily, we have towels and we hadn't had a chance to decorate it with our irreplaceable, delicate, ornaments yet. I'm going to say that subconsciously, we knew.
Later in the day I got a call from the kids who said, "Dad, the tree fell onto the couch." But what I heard was, "Dad the sap laden tree is oozing all over the leather couches that your dad bought for us at a garage sale, but really aren't our style so we are going to try to sell them on Craigslist after the holidays unless we get sticky sap all over them."
"Well get the tree off the couch. Lean it against the washable wall."
"I can't. It's heavy."
"Yes you can Hon. Just leave the bottom on the ground and tilt it off the couch. You don't need to pick it up. It's physics. You're learning!"
"No! I can't. It's gigantic!"
"Ok, first of all, our house won't fit "gigantic" trees. Just reach to the middle and push it off the couch."
"The middle!? There are spiders in there!"
Luckily my dad sensed that his couch was in peril. He stopped by for a visit while I was on the phone. Problem delayed.
When I came home I "secured" it again. Except this time I really, really turned those four screws into the trunk. Not only did it stand nice and straight, it started to tell me information about a secret revolution that the other trees were plotting! It was a beautiful thing...until Sylvia started to decorate it. When she got about a dozen ornaments on, the tree just lay down on the ground. Luckily the stand was perfectly secured to the bottom of the tree. Unluckily, the stand was not perfectly secured to the floor. "Dirty Word!" (that's my favorite swear) I jumped up, put the tree back upright, and held it there while dreaming of being on a beach in Hawaii, Sylvia at my side, sitting in the shade of our beautifully engineered artificial tree. Exasperated Sylvia took Jake on a quest...a quest for a tree stand, at 9:30 at night, a week and a half before Christmas, while I stand holding the tree...and its twelve ornaments. Standing there, alternating arms, I looked and thought, "I wonder if these ornaments are just too heavy?" I took off about half of them the tree righted itself and actually stood on its own. I had visions of being in a bad sitcom episode where the family needed to coordinate where and when the ornaments were put on the tree.
"1, 2, 3, go!"
"1, 2, 3, go!"
"ooh ohh...what are you doing!? You know we can't have the Harry Potter across from the Norman Rockwell mini plate....We need the Jamaican cone shaped tree or the painting teddy bear!"
(actually, those are real ornaments on our tree. The Jamaican one is the first ornament we bought together as man and wife and the teddy bear is the first one Sylvia gave to me when we were dating)
After a little while Sylvia and Jake came home with last tree stand in the tri-cities area...but not before Jake decided to call his dear old dad, who as far as he knows is still holding onto a tree that's about to fall down, until they come home. He explained that they wouldn't be able to come home for about 45 more minutes because "mom got a flat tire by driving over a pothole. Mom is talking to the guy who's going to fix it now." He is telling me this completely believable story and then I heard the garage door open. In they walked, laughing! Honestly I don't know where he gets this stuff!
We now have a brand new stand complete with FIVE very secure, very tightly screwed bolts so we should be safe enough for the candles...and the tree revolution begins January 4th.
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