The Utter Hell That Was Christmas Tree Trimming In My Family
Happy Holidays Everyone
Sometimes, right around the Holidays, I’ll see someone on TV or hear a friend wax rhapsodic about Chistmas and trimming the tree. The anticipation of the event, Family traditions around food, friends and relatives coming over. And usually, a funny story or two.
When I was in the Fourth grade there was a boy named Anders from Norway. He was an exchange student. He got up in front of the class one day and described their tree trimming process. They’d trim the tree, have some kind of soup…. Whitefish? I know it wasn’t Lutefisk. No matter. After Dinner, they’d hold hands and dance around the tree, singing Christmas songs. Sounded positively idyllic.
My family, not so much….
Don’t get me wrong, my Dad was usually a pretty fun guy. Not to work for of course ….(20 years) but he was usually up for a good time. Time at the Cabin, water-skiing, snow skiing in Winter. There was a tradition in our neighborhood in the Summer. One of the Parents of the kids we ran with would load us all up for a trip to Dairy Queen. It was good times, and they all took a turn. Dad was right in there…
However, something about trimming the Christmas Tree brought out the …. Darren MaGavin in him. (Christmas Story, The Old Man) He had his process. And the process was not to be trifled with.
Same thing every year. When I and my two older Sisters were little, we fell for it every time. After awhile, we knew what was coming and just bore up under it, knowing this would make us stronger, better people in the long run.I feel sad now that I can’t adequately convey to my Father what his Machievellian, anal retentive behavior relative to Christmas trees has truly meant to me all these years.
Excuse me, I just need a minute alone…
Ahhh, I’m back. Thank you for allowing me that. First off, the tree had to be put into the stand. PROPERLY. And; that’s a job for MEN. Us kids were relegated to the front room whilst’ Father Dearest affixed the tree to the stand, and adjusted …. and adjusted …. and adjusted …. and adjusted ….(Well, you get the idea.) You want a tree to be STRAIGHT !!!
When I got a wee bit older, I got to HELL(p) with the adjusting. When the tree was finally ju-u-u-st so, Dad would call out “Time to trim the tree!!” The three of us would bound to our feet, go running to the middle of the addition my Father had built; (where the tree was anxiously awaiting our ornamentery ministrations), and freeze.
Dad had a flair for design. My Sister’s room was on the upper floor of the addition. Dad built it 10 feet short of the outside wall. There was a walkway with a railing from the room to the wall (and the deck outside.) Which meant there was a part of the addition that was 2 stories tall. We always got really TALL Christnas trees. We’d cut them from our property up in Northern Minnesota.
Here’s the anal retentive part, he felt the need to take all the lights, All the garland, all the strung glass beads; (they’d been in his Family for years)…. EVERYTHING ,and lay it all out on the floor. In uniform, perfectly straight lines, covering the entire floor.
The 3 of us would huddle together, like Polar Bear cubs on a tiny ice floe, gingerly placing our feet in between strings of Heirloom glass beads from Dad’s Family, trying our best not to step on them. Ah, but the fun had just begun. Dad had to plug the lights in. And see if he could bring the burnt out ones ….. BACK. TO. L-I-I-FE !!!!! (HAHAHAHA!!!)
This was not a task to be taken lightly. We’re not all made of money around here you know… (Not true. Edina, Minnesota was actually a pretty well-to-do community.) Dad had to scrimp and save for every dollar he made. (Again, NOT true. Dad was Lead Carpenter at Capp Homes. One of the biggest home builders in the Country’ (He did all right)…. And, after all; Chritmas tree lights are pretty damn expensive. (They are NOT!!! more lies, EVERYbody knows that)
{Fun Fact} If you ever chance to see a 70’s movie called The Getaway, (There’s almost zero chance you ever will, but you might.) The Protagonist, Steve McQueen, sits down in a chair and opens up a newspaper, (Ask an old person what a newspaper is) And, when he does…. there’a a full page ad for; you guessed it, CAPP HOMES. Out in California. And that’s how big they were.
Now, back to the story ….
Sooo-ooo, given all that … why the HELL would my Father spend 45 minutes to an hour flicking burnt out Christmas tree lights with his finger, trying to coax them back from the brink? If you know, please message me, and I’ll take care of your Family forever should something bad happen to you. It made ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE.
But wait, there’s more.
We kids of course, would get to whining, and fidgeting. And occasionally stepping on semi precious, Heirloom, passed down through the generations glass beads. And breaking them. The crunching sound when that happened, unmistakable. Invoking a piercing glare from William.
“DA-A-D, can’t we just replace the burnt out bulbs with new ones?” I’d plead,(quite sensibly, I thought) Stony silence from Bill. Then, every so often, one would magically pop on. Triumphantly,Papa would shoot a glance at me.
“SILENCE !!! YOU DARE QUESTION THE POWER OF THE GREAT AND MIGHTY OZ?”
After all the lights had been beaten and shamed into compliance, (and the stubborn ones finally replaced with fresh-faced innocents), Then began the painstaking, laborious task of the application of everything. First, the afore mentioned lights. Daddy-o handled that, start to finish. He was the only one cleared, (and tall enough) to be on the ladder required to reach the top of the Everest tree. He’d put them on. Me-tic-u-lous-ly. Then step back and squint. Then adjust, …. and adjust, …. and adjust, ….and adjust,….
Following that, the beads, the garland, and …. the …. TINsel.
Ahh; the TINsel. Now there was a whole nother’ development altogether. William Rockford Winsor seemed to hold tinsel in special regard. Tinsel was the Nolan Ryan of Christmas timmings. The Finisher. And was not to be taken lightly.
There were Protocols, Strictly enforced.
- PLACED. Not thrown. (Is that like …. shaken, not stirred?)
- Applied SINGLY, no clumps allowed.
- Evenly distributed throughout the tree. Special consideration here: This was tinsel after all. Tinsel gave the tree it’s aura, it’s mystique. It’s Jenna Se’ Qua!
TINSEL CAN MAKE. OR. BREAK. A. TREE …. GET WITH THE PROGRAM !!(Damn kids have no respect for tradition!)
And, finally, …. the ornaments. ornament placement is all kinda cut and dried I guess. Grab an ornament, hang it on the tree. I don’t know if Daddy-o was just worn out from the stress of it all by then, or the fact that the ornaments were somewhat newer than everything else. He didn’t seem overly militant about this phase of Operation Yuletide.
Come to think of it though, There was one really special year early on regarding ornaments. After a brief time watching the three of us hang them, and since we were all young and short, Willie decided there were too many ornaments on the low branches.
So he had us kids sit on the couch while he finished up about 90% of them
Yep. That sure was one special year. I guess they all were, each in their own way I spose’. I never really figured out why Herr Fater was this way regarding something that most people associate with warm, fuzzy feelings. Maybe it’s because he came from a relatively large family by today’s standards, 4 Boys, 2 Girls, and his parents were that way to be able to wrangle all those kids? Who knows. ( I guess tha’s not overly big, especially if you’re from a Farm family.)
And here’s the kicker: we put the tree up Christmas Eve, and took it down New Year’s Day. All this Strum And Drang for less than one week’s worth of tree enjoyment. And why, you may ask, didn’t we simply put it up earlier so we could enjoy it longer? Well, we just couldn’t, because of:
FAMILY TRADITION !
Ahhhh, Fatherhood. I can only imagine what pastiche of neuroses I’m visiting on my Son ….
Be good Everyone,
-Mark Rockford Winsor-