O'tannenbaum
Posted: Tuesday, December 09, 2008
by John Brazell
TWO YEARS AGO:
Our Christmas tree is out of the house and lying instate on the front lawn. It awaits its ultimate demise in our city's chipping machine.
Still my lovely walks by to both admire and mourn God's work of pine perfection. If there was a contest this one would have worn a blue ribbon - rather than the gold bow - across its noble brow. It was as close to an artificial tree as one could find and still leave pine needles in the carpet and pollen in the air.
I placed a death grip on the tree while she looked for help. If forced to make a choice between the tree and me, I was certain of her answer. Like two giddy kids with the prize egg, we strapped the tree on the car. I placed the same white-knuckled grip on it through the hole in the roof as we crept home. I grimaced, she said, "Don't you dare let go."
Yes, this ordeal begs the question, "Why not an artificial tree and get a perfect one each year?" I beg it each year.
She says it wouldn't be Christmas without the smell, the "joy" of searching for and finding the "right" tree. Never mind the right one arrives only once every forty-something years. More importantly, we're nothing if not the "real thing" except for artificial sweeteners and fingernails, hair-color, decaf coffee, diet Pepsi, polyester...
We got the tree up and decorated on the first day of December. It evoked a full month of unrequited love, as she paused in front of it often and said, "I love that tree." It was tall, straight and symmetrical, "Much like Tom Selleck and Clint Eastwood," she would say with a grin.
I'm dreading the process of replacing it next year. Tree cloning is in its botanical infancy, but science comes at you fast. "Just in case", she suggests, "cut a few limbs and put them in the freezer."
This year will be remembered for the perfect Christmas tree and a season marked by unusual behavior, hers. It could have been caused by excessive pollen or excitement of the season. Or maybe she enjoyed having something in the house noble, tall and handsome, to which she could whisper, "I really love you."
DECEMBER '08:
My, how time flies. We stopped at the nearest Christmas tree lot, our first, and began our "endless" search for another perfect tree. Almost too quickly a perfect tree salesman appeared. He was tall, rugged and handsome much like a young Tom Selleck or Clint Eastwood. He didn't push or press but took her directly to a "perfect" tree. In fifteen minutes we were the proud owners.
The tree now stands in the corner reserved for fir nobility where it's sucking water into its parched system. I've stood back and looked from all angles. I see no resemblance to Selleck or Eastwood -- Boris Karloff or Homer Simpkins, maybe.
Product or salesman; how long has this taken me?
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)Great literary work, John! I really enjoyed reading your style. Loved it. Liked it. Hey, could it be that your wife sees you in and through that "perfect Christmas tree"? May be that's the real secret she wants you to stumble upon. Thanks for the article, and Merry Christmas. ~mogama~Dear Mogama,Thanks for taking time to write and I'm delighted you enjoyed the story. After experiencing many Christmases together my lovely Sylvia and I still enjoy the wonder of it all. You've offered up a "secret" which I will choose to believe is true each new year. Thanks. Best to you and Merry Christmas! John
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