A Farewell To The Old Christmas Tree
DAVE’S WORLD
By David Howell
Christmas still seems far away, but I believe a few of the holiday expenditures are already showing up on the bank statement. Actually, I knew this was going to happen. My sweet bride told me it was time for a new Christmas tree, and she had found a good deal on one. Truthfully, I couldn’t argue. I know our old tree has been on borrowed time for several years.
Besides, that last tree didn’t cost a dime. I’ll tell you why—if you promise not to tell her I wrote about it. (That’s right, she probably has better things to do than read my column.)
It was probably a decade ago when we were headed out to eat on a Friday evening and noticed a big cardboard box on the roadside. I stopped to investigate and discovered it contained a nice, new-looking artificial Christmas tree.
We decided that somebody was probably moving and the box had fallen off a truck or trailer, so we left it where it sat in case they came back looking for it.
The next morning, the box was still there. I stopped and picked it up—my first roadside pickup. The tree sat in the barn until Christmas, and it turned out to be a good one when we finally put it up.
That old tree served us well for close to ten years, which isn’t bad for something rescued from a ditch. Every December it leaned a little more, dropped a few extra needles, and needed one more strand of lights to fill the thin spots. But somehow, once the ornaments went up and the glow filled the living room, I thought it still looked perfect.
Thankfully, we have Thanksgiving on the calendar before Christmas gets here. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I like it because of the fellowship and the food—and the older I get, the more I like to eat.
I’m not a fan of the commercialization of Christmas, but I have to admit it’s still a special time each year with the grandchildren. You know, it’s funny on Christmas with young kids—they’re the happiest and the saddest all on the same day. The happiness is opening the presents, and the sadness comes when the day wears on and fatigue sets in. Anticipation is always more fun than realization.
Back in the day, a poked-out lip and a little whining might lead to strong discipline, but these days, not so much. Besides, we send the grandkids back home anyway.
