When we first moved to Missouri, I remember my mom assembling a
hand-me-down fake tree. It was not like the ones you buy at Target
today, that come pre-lit, and all you have to do is fluff out the
branches. Oh no. After hauling the massive cube of the falling-apart
cardboard box upstairs, the first step was to sort the branches by what
color was marked on the peg at the base of the branch. Then, one by one,
the branches were inserted into a pole with holes in it. The color
coding indicated which larger branches went at the bottom and which
smaller branches went at the top. Obviously, we did this while Dad was
at work, because it made a huge mess.
That was before I knew the
cardinal rule of Christmas trees, for every year, a decree would go
forth from Dad that we could not get a Christmas tree until after his
birthday (December 10). Recently, I made up this parody song that begins
with, "It's beginning to look a lot like Dad's birthday, everywhere you
go... there's a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well,
[crescendo] but not one in our house til after December tenth!" When
everyone was grown and married, we could sometimes sneak the Christmas
tree trip in a few days earlier, if it was the only day that worked for
everyone.
Perhaps the segue between the ridiculous puzzle of a fake tree and our time honored family tradition was the year that Dad took me and Patrick to the Breckenridge "National" grocery store parking lot to pick out a tree from the someone-else-cut-it-down lot. I'm pretty sure that was 1990, when Eileen was a baby. Perhaps Mom wasn't up to putting the puzzle tree together, maybe it had gotten too Charlie Brown-ish, or maybe Dad did not have the patience for the puzzle tree. Whatever the case, we got a REAL tree.
I believe 1991 to be the inaugural year of the family tradition, because the following year, I knew to bring my camera, loaded with 110 film. We took a road trip to the faaaaar away land of O'Fallon, walked around the Christmas tree farm in the cold, agreed on a Christmas tree, cut it down, and brought it home. [Do not let these Christmas memories fool you into thinking that every family decision was a vote, because I heard a whole lot of "because I'm the dad" and "because I'm the mom".]
I remember one year, our Christmas tree leaned so badly that it had to be in a corner, with string tied to the trunk, and staked to two walls to keep it upright... and it still kept falling over.
The Queen of Tinsel, also known as my mom, taught us the rules of hanging tinsel. THE RULES: One must hang tinsel one strand at a time. Pull a strand over the branch, until two-thirds of the strand hangs on the opposite side from where you started pulling. Distribute as evenly as possible. Do not even consider globs of tinsel. Do not even consider throwing it. I do not think that my mom has OCD tendencies, the closest she ever gets is that she likes to choose seating arrangements for groups. Perhaps every speck of her OCD must be saved up for Christmastime, to be used on perfecting the tinsel. And I love that about her.
According to my mom, it was my dad's idea to cut down Christmas trees. Nobody guessed that the tradition would last more than twenty years. We always went to the very same Christmas tree lot, where you could pay cash or a personal check. Dad always talked with the owner. When we first started going there, the lot was in the middle of no place, woods as far as the eye could see. Slowly, the area got more and more built up, until there were new housing developments right across the street. Dad asked the owner if he had considered selling the land, and the owner said no, and that it was the only place in Missouri that a particular kind of Christmas tree grew.
The first year that Dad missed was 2006. It was extremely icy on the day we went, and I think that we all slipped and fell while walking around, searching for the perfect tree. The amount of time that it took to find the perfect tree was always directly proportional to how nice the weather was. Sunny and forty degrees? Well, better walk around for over an hour. Mark potential trees with bright gloves and scarves, then try to re-find your gloves and scarves and evaluate whether or not that tree is better or worse than the one just over that hill. Cloudy and 28 degrees? That one's fine. But in 2006, Dad wisely decided that since he was still recovering from his stroke, he and Mom would stay home with little David and baby James, instead of walking around on icy hills. The three couples went out and chose three trees, with the engaged Eileen and Steve choosing the one for Mom and Dad's house. We braved the ice because we all wanted Christmas trees before Tina and Scott arrived for a visit later that day.
Another new fun dynamic was added to the Christmas tree tradition when the kids started getting excited about it. David picked out a tree that was well over fifty feet tall, because it was clearly the best. David and James walked around with their own saws, that were almost as big as they were. Patrick and Tanya infamously overestimated how much space they had. Several years in a row, they had to chop off the bottom of the tree to fit it in their duplex, which is unfortunate, as the Christmas trees were priced by the foot.
The tradition eventually faded away, as it became more and more difficult to coordinate a day when we could all go together. Because that was part of the excitement, everyone going out together, buying multiple trees, and occasionally eating at Culver's on the way home. Joel and I stopped buying trees the last few years, as our house felt too empty and quiet for all the joy of a real tree. At one point, I bought a fake three-foot tree from Wal-mart, which felt both devastating and relieving, to accept that Joel and I would not be expecting any children to join our family for some years to come.
I am so thankful that the kids got to experience the same Christmas tree memories and excitement as we had when we were growing up, and I'm so thankful that our family Christmas tree tradition lasted so long.
I am extremely sad to report that Sunbrite Christmas Tree Farm in O'Fallon has closed. It appears that their last season was 2013. The business may be gone, but the traditions that we forged there will live on in our memories.
David and James Get a Christmas Tree (2010)
Joel and I don't always put up our three-foot Christmas tree. We've been skipping it every other year, because we're lazy and because we're busy and because nobody even knows whether we set it up or not.
We plan to be parents someday. Over the last few years, God has directed us towards being foster parents, which may or may not include adopting children. Many children are not eligible for adoption, but still need amazing parents like us. Parents who care about them, teach them about Jesus, decorate for Christmas, share experiences, start traditions, welcome them into a huge loving family with cousins and grandparents and aunts and uncles.
So one December day in the future, probably still several years away, Joel and I will take our children to cut down a fresh Christmas tree. We will find a new Christmas tree farm far away, with woods as far as the eye can see, and we'll take a photo every year.
... after December 10, of course.
And when that day comes...
Mom will come over and teach our kids the rules of tinsel.
Perhaps the segue between the ridiculous puzzle of a fake tree and our time honored family tradition was the year that Dad took me and Patrick to the Breckenridge "National" grocery store parking lot to pick out a tree from the someone-else-cut-it-down lot. I'm pretty sure that was 1990, when Eileen was a baby. Perhaps Mom wasn't up to putting the puzzle tree together, maybe it had gotten too Charlie Brown-ish, or maybe Dad did not have the patience for the puzzle tree. Whatever the case, we got a REAL tree.
I believe 1991 to be the inaugural year of the family tradition, because the following year, I knew to bring my camera, loaded with 110 film. We took a road trip to the faaaaar away land of O'Fallon, walked around the Christmas tree farm in the cold, agreed on a Christmas tree, cut it down, and brought it home. [Do not let these Christmas memories fool you into thinking that every family decision was a vote, because I heard a whole lot of "because I'm the dad" and "because I'm the mom".]
I remember one year, our Christmas tree leaned so badly that it had to be in a corner, with string tied to the trunk, and staked to two walls to keep it upright... and it still kept falling over.
The Queen of Tinsel, also known as my mom, taught us the rules of hanging tinsel. THE RULES: One must hang tinsel one strand at a time. Pull a strand over the branch, until two-thirds of the strand hangs on the opposite side from where you started pulling. Distribute as evenly as possible. Do not even consider globs of tinsel. Do not even consider throwing it. I do not think that my mom has OCD tendencies, the closest she ever gets is that she likes to choose seating arrangements for groups. Perhaps every speck of her OCD must be saved up for Christmastime, to be used on perfecting the tinsel. And I love that about her.
According to my mom, it was my dad's idea to cut down Christmas trees. Nobody guessed that the tradition would last more than twenty years. We always went to the very same Christmas tree lot, where you could pay cash or a personal check. Dad always talked with the owner. When we first started going there, the lot was in the middle of no place, woods as far as the eye could see. Slowly, the area got more and more built up, until there were new housing developments right across the street. Dad asked the owner if he had considered selling the land, and the owner said no, and that it was the only place in Missouri that a particular kind of Christmas tree grew.
The first year that Dad missed was 2006. It was extremely icy on the day we went, and I think that we all slipped and fell while walking around, searching for the perfect tree. The amount of time that it took to find the perfect tree was always directly proportional to how nice the weather was. Sunny and forty degrees? Well, better walk around for over an hour. Mark potential trees with bright gloves and scarves, then try to re-find your gloves and scarves and evaluate whether or not that tree is better or worse than the one just over that hill. Cloudy and 28 degrees? That one's fine. But in 2006, Dad wisely decided that since he was still recovering from his stroke, he and Mom would stay home with little David and baby James, instead of walking around on icy hills. The three couples went out and chose three trees, with the engaged Eileen and Steve choosing the one for Mom and Dad's house. We braved the ice because we all wanted Christmas trees before Tina and Scott arrived for a visit later that day.
Another new fun dynamic was added to the Christmas tree tradition when the kids started getting excited about it. David picked out a tree that was well over fifty feet tall, because it was clearly the best. David and James walked around with their own saws, that were almost as big as they were. Patrick and Tanya infamously overestimated how much space they had. Several years in a row, they had to chop off the bottom of the tree to fit it in their duplex, which is unfortunate, as the Christmas trees were priced by the foot.
The tradition eventually faded away, as it became more and more difficult to coordinate a day when we could all go together. Because that was part of the excitement, everyone going out together, buying multiple trees, and occasionally eating at Culver's on the way home. Joel and I stopped buying trees the last few years, as our house felt too empty and quiet for all the joy of a real tree. At one point, I bought a fake three-foot tree from Wal-mart, which felt both devastating and relieving, to accept that Joel and I would not be expecting any children to join our family for some years to come.
I am so thankful that the kids got to experience the same Christmas tree memories and excitement as we had when we were growing up, and I'm so thankful that our family Christmas tree tradition lasted so long.
I am extremely sad to report that Sunbrite Christmas Tree Farm in O'Fallon has closed. It appears that their last season was 2013. The business may be gone, but the traditions that we forged there will live on in our memories.
David and James Get a Christmas Tree (2010)
Joel and I don't always put up our three-foot Christmas tree. We've been skipping it every other year, because we're lazy and because we're busy and because nobody even knows whether we set it up or not.
We plan to be parents someday. Over the last few years, God has directed us towards being foster parents, which may or may not include adopting children. Many children are not eligible for adoption, but still need amazing parents like us. Parents who care about them, teach them about Jesus, decorate for Christmas, share experiences, start traditions, welcome them into a huge loving family with cousins and grandparents and aunts and uncles.
So one December day in the future, probably still several years away, Joel and I will take our children to cut down a fresh Christmas tree. We will find a new Christmas tree farm far away, with woods as far as the eye can see, and we'll take a photo every year.
... after December 10, of course.
And when that day comes...
Mom will come over and teach our kids the rules of tinsel.
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