O Tannenbaum!
Christmas trees resist becoming Christmas trees to the very last. You’ve got to hand it to them, their spirit is admirable.
First of all they only really grow well in cold or rainy places like Oregon, making the getting of them a bummer for anyone in the business. I don’t think this is by accident.
The hoopla of getting them into the car and then through the door and then the left-a-bit-right-a-bit-watchit!-aaaaaargh! part is a given. Any fool plumping for a real tree ought to be prepared for that.
But, standing (slouching) finally (sulkily) in the corner, the rebel tree is still not ready to submit to humiliating decoration, for every twig is malevolently designed to thwart the bauble. All the needles face t’wards twig’s end making the slipping of an ornament’s loop on a tricky, pokey proposition, especially when arabesquing on a 3 -legged stool at a 45 degree angle.
Disrobing the tree in January is a doddle by comparison but, even then, they go out fighting, carpet-bombing the sitting-room with needles you can never completely remove ’til February.
I can see why MacBeth was scared shitless when he saw Burnham Wood on the march; he was no fool; he knew trees take no prisoners. All that just standing there with toes curled into the damp earth of high lonely lands, listening to rumours on the wind, gives a tree plenty of time to think and get Ideas and form Opinions and, if you want my opinion, become a little cantankerous, a little set in their ways and, sometimes, in the case of our 1998 tree*, a little murderous (attempted anyway). But pitting tree ‘gainst housewife is an unfair fight. The housewife wins every time.
*
Our Christmas tree ritual goes something like this: The ProblemHusband sits on the sofa and observes, with his keen eye for detail, his remarkable ability to sit, and his astonishing facility with cheese-straws, egg-nog and beer. He is mainly there in an advisory capacity: “I knew that wasn’t going to work” type thing.
My dad and I erect and decorate the tree and drink wine on an empty stomach because we were too excited about trimming the tree to bother with dinner.
We say :”The topmost point of the tree is bald and too long and spindly to support the star, lets cut it down a bit to make it a more pleasingly shaped tannenbaum.”
The ProblemHusband says: “Oh no you don’t! That is the twig that makes the difference between an 8-foot and a 7-foot tree. That twig is the most expensive twig on the tree.”
We discuss it.
We end up not chopping it off because we know that’s how the ritual goes. Instead we fashion an Eiffel Toweresque arrangement of green plastic cable-ties to support the star. We are pleased with our work and engineering when this is done.
Next, after Trouble (the Problem Cat) has eaten and sicked up several gobs of tinsel, I, as tradition demands, put her in another room until we’re finished. This is just as well because it is about then that I break a glass ornament causing wicked little splinters of glass to shoot everywhere and especially those bits of floor that the children and cat like to walk on/lick/eat fluff off.
“Phew,” I usually say, “It was a piece of luck I put Trouble away just then!”
Then commences the pantomime of the lights. A pantomime complete with a tipsy, rosy-cheeked Dame (me), A chorus line (my father) and some enthusiastic audience participation (PH):
Us: They’ll work!
PH: Hohoh no they won’t!
Us: Oh yes they will!
etc.
followed by a swift run to the shops for another string, followed by the realization that the new string isn’t polarised like the strings it’s supposed to connect to, followed by recriminations about why didn’t I go to the proper shop, not the nearest one.
Furious nibbling on a cheese straw for a few minutes will calm me down as I contemplate the peace and spirit of the season. Some more wine helps tremendously at this point too. Very soon we are merry again. We remember the emergency lights we bought last week for just such an eventuality.
We bash on.
5 hours later our tree is splendid and we are all touched by its beauty and warm glow. Feeling secure and sentimental in the knowledge that each actor played their role in our ritual to his and her utmost, we release the cat and retire for the evening to await the newer Part 2 of the Christmas tree ritual.
Part 2
The girls get up, are surprised, are rapt at the spectacle of Christmas tree; we are enchanted with their round little faces and eyes and their round little mouths going Oh!. They put their own special decorations on a bit of the tree I’ve saved for that and, while I go to the kitchen to make breakfast, they and the cat, with whom they’ve been in devillish cahoots since birth, pull off all the carefully arranged ornaments (Not too much gold together! Space baubles evenly with ornaments! Separate the nutcracker pair adequately! etc.) on the lower three branches. In dismay but little real surprise, I discover the wreckage.
We talk. I reason with them. I tell them I know how tempting it is to touch all the sparkly lovely things. And then I tell them not to or Santa won’t come. Thus starts Part 2b of the Christmas tradition, the weaponization of Santa, for the season.
Part 2b. The weaponization of Santa.
It has become my custom in December to advise the girls when I don’t think Santa will be happy about them not eating vegetables, for example. I wield him like a jolly blunt object when the air is thick with mutiny or civil war. I say that he has elves everywhere – behind the curtains, in the fridge – reporting back to a great gingerbread computer at the North Pole, and that the Naughty Or Nice List (which he’ll check twice) is being updated constantly. I tell them daddy and I have to file our own paperwork with Santa containing a general report on behaviour (amongst other things, I add mysteriously.) I look my own dear children in the eye and tell them we can’t lie to Santa because 1. he’s Santa, and 2. mummy and daddy don’t tell lies anyway, so Nice is really the way to go to avoid a great silvery “Naughty” sign above our chimney on Christmas Eve.
I don’t care if this is wrong of me.
* This year’s tree is a more docile one. I think they’re breeding them for dumb acceptance these days, and giving them Paxil in their MiracleGrow.
** I am aware I began a paragraph with a “But” but, really, my purposes were served and I find myself unable to care about this either. For the moment. Another day might see me clawing the skin off my face and wailing in an inner, non-literal, but nonetheless real and anguished way, whilst appearing to any observer to be sitting calmly in front of the screen. But not this day.
December 9th, 2006 at 12:13 am
First! Welcome home lovey.
December 9th, 2006 at 12:19 am
And yeah for cat and trees and kids and cats. I have three of the buggers and three of my sister’s sproglets. I will put my tree up tomorrow and by Monday it will be the bedraggled husk it is every year. Gosh ducks, you’re lucky to have your Pops about to ‘guide’ the works. I wish mine was, he was particularly gifted with the whole tree/wine drinking lark. Your whole post set me spinning back into the memories.
December 9th, 2006 at 7:06 am
Glad to find you back at the writing mill!
In our home, we have Santa’s spies who check for bad behaviour, in the form of whacking a sibling, crawling under the table at suppertime and general disobediance, and report back to Herr Claus. These are the totally innocent-looking (as are the best of spies) red robins that lurk in the garden around now.
December 9th, 2006 at 9:52 am
But this is very good.
You brought us in to see the fun.
You paint a splendid picture. Not many can.
Re. clawing your own face off.
It?s only God?s punishment for being born north of all the sunshine. One couldn?t imagine the French or Spanish or ITALIANS in that way. They would take their plate of linguini and smash it one handed off the picture of Granddad Giuseppe on the wall. That night, the air would be heavy with the acacia trees and the Ruffino and the lovemaking.
Coo, it?s hot in here, innit?
December 9th, 2006 at 8:30 pm
that’s what I plan to do tomorrow – try to tame a tree for christmas. thanks for the smart leads – no cats here, though, hope dogs behave better. will have a bottle of wine to help, and empty stomach, you said? will be missing a significant one to tell me whether the tree is standing straight.
December 9th, 2006 at 9:02 pm
fmc, m’darling, if I could only remember to mull it, mull it. Every year I mull the best place for the decorations, why the 2 of the 3 wise men from the East in our Nativity scene have blue eyes and blonde hair, and of course, it’s become traditional to mull the inexorable slide into meaningless consumerism the season has become. The wine though, I always forget to mull the blooming wine, and we end up drinking the cheap vinegary stuff I bought to mull, thinking there was no point wasting a good bottle for that. Next year, next year… How’s the head today, Toots?
Charlotte, I envy you your red robins. American robins are not the wee round puffballs they are in Europe; they’re about 5-6 inches long and a bit more like blushing thrushes. I listened to the Mustardcast! It was great; your accent is lovely, by the way.
December 9th, 2006 at 9:18 pm
Docsy, I suspect you of the crime of kindness instead of absolute truth, but I am not about to chastise you for your generosity. Suffice to say you are lovely. But can you be suggesting the Scots are not a passionate lot? Don’t know about down your way but up in our neck of the woods the air is often heavy with rain-clouds, Whyte & MacKay and lovemaking. But hoots, man! We never break our crockery – costs money, you see.
JenPen, hello! Thanks for visiting, you are most welcome here. Often a significant one is of no help at all in determining the straightness of one’s Christmas tree; it all depends on how straight the significant one himself is standing at the time, which might not be all that straight if he’s been fed wine on an empty stomach. Jolly good fun, though. I’ll be over at your’s for a proper snoop around later, when I have a bit more time. Happy travels in the meantime.
December 9th, 2006 at 10:02 pm
Yer husband understands the chain of command well, it takes restraint not to barge in and do it yerself as those doing it cannot be trusted, he has upheld the fleshy baton of manhood well, bravo good sir.
I know I started this comment with ‘yer’ but I’m a slack bastard.
December 10th, 2006 at 4:51 am
We have now had our tree for two weeks and as yet haven’t managed to decorate it. As we closed down the house this evening my wife said, “tomorrow we decorate the tree come hell or high water,” to which I replied, “absolutely!” with as much gusto and determination as I could muster…just as I had last night and, I believe, the night before that.
December 10th, 2006 at 6:30 am
Welcome back.
Putting up the tree and Christmas decorations was traditionally my job and I always loved it. One year we lived in a house with large rooms and I was able to put up a 10ft tree. Buying enough lights and decorations nearly bankrupted me but it was worth it to see the family’s faces. Wine was an important part of the creative process.
Living on my own these days, I don’t bother with christmas decorations, I just treat myself to a couple of bottles of really good (and expensive) wine instead. Less mess to clean up afterwards.
December 10th, 2006 at 9:01 am
Ah, the Santa weapon. Use it while it lasts, because human kiddies quickly become immune to that one.
December 10th, 2006 at 2:31 pm
Oh Sam dear that brings it all back. When did the rot set in and I said ‘Sod this for a game of soldiers!’ and bought a faux tree from Woolworths. I missed the smell but not the angst. It is worth it all when one sees little faces round the tree but it is not required that mothers run thamselves ragged at Christman. Sadly by the time we learn this valuable lesson the children have their own homes and we are the oldies.
Love to Dad and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy Healthy 2007.
December 10th, 2006 at 9:09 pm
Glad you’re back.
I should have waited to read this until after we got our tree. The EMBLOS insists on using these wooden ornaments from Germany, but absolutely no ornament hooks are allowed because they’re “too American.”
Dammit. It’s all coming back to me. I need to buy more beer.
Cheers.
December 10th, 2006 at 9:10 pm
My earlier comment disappeared.
Glad you’re back and this post causes a major anxiety attack as we still need to buy our tree. I think I’ll buy more beer first.
Cheers.
December 12th, 2006 at 10:19 am
Re. “the crime of kindness”
Not guilty yer honour. I re-read it to check.
No, my mind was filled with Grace Kelly and Archie Leitch decking the halls. It’s because you’re American probably, that and the bit that sticks out the top of all trees. It’s maybe a Law or something, but it IS the hardest bit to stick a star on without it looking like you’ve just stuck a star on that bit that sticks out the top of every tree. Like you, there is a debate about cropping it but it’s always left to stick out the top with a squinty star on the top. What ya gonna do?
Badda boom badda bing… it’s Christmas is what it is.
December 12th, 2006 at 6:59 pm
Hand my 11 year old the box with the artificial tree in it, and the box with the decorations and say “you’re in charge!”
2 hours later, he’s sorted it.
December 13th, 2006 at 10:45 am
My tactic for the last few years has been to go to someone else’s house for the season. Let them fart about with the poxy lights.
Although last year, I did have to assist my Wombling “father-in-law”. Fur was damn-near flying, it was this close and I mean, this close /)(\ to actual bloodshed.
I am NOT doing it again. They can bloody well not have a tree and like it.
So there.
December 14th, 2006 at 11:16 am
The Drumm Christmas tree trick is to wade into the plantation, take about an hour selecting a tree (width + height + bushiness), and then bring it triumphantly home like a huge fish that fought bravely.
After a rest, a beer or two, and a few retellings (it’s a word, yes?) of the tree hunt, there is the ultimate moment of truth. The tree is erected in the chosen spot and all present watch as the uppermost tip, when vertical, comes to rest no more than three centimetres below the ceiling.
We don’t do measuring tapes. The rest is a doddle, except always lights on first and off last when the tree comes down (Jan 6) for ceremonial burning.
December 16th, 2006 at 4:27 pm
You paint a great picture. It’s lovely to do it for wee ones. My pipe-cleaner, 6ft something 17 year old wants one too, but I’ll be the mug wrestling it into the log base, and skinning my fingers while I try and drive a nail through at the wrong angle.
But I can use some lovely glass icicle baubles that IKEA was selling off half price with no fear of wee fingers grabbing them.
BTW Norfolk pines don’t shed their needles, more expensive, but you get that lovely blue colour.
And to make you homesick:
http://www.edinburghschristmas.com/gallery/?id=3
December 17th, 2006 at 3:40 pm
Anna: that made me homesick and I’m not even totally Scottish!
December 21st, 2006 at 5:32 pm
Gosh! I didn’t know that about MacBeth. I thought Tolkein made up marching forests. Is that Shakespears’? Or some older version.
December 22nd, 2006 at 10:53 pm
I have not been here (or most places) in way too long and you’ve just reminded me why this was a bad decision, despite the fact that the universe conspired to make it so. I love your traditions, I love your telling of them. From the rebel tree’s admirable spirit pre-chop, right through to Santa as moral beacon.
And if you can’t start a sentence with “but” (or, and, evidently) I’m in deep crap.
Happy holidays Sam to you and yours.
December 23rd, 2006 at 8:13 am
I am doing my bit for the planet, as Scrumpy the eco-warrior is coming for Christmas lunch, and have a very very small artificial tree for him to hug. Have a great holiday Sam and I look forward to more of your sparkling wit in 2007. Hands across the sea and all that.
December 23rd, 2006 at 7:27 pm
Have a good Christmas and hopefully 2007 will have something nice for you and your family.
x
December 24th, 2006 at 3:28 am
Merry Christmas to you and yours, dear.
Cheers.
December 24th, 2006 at 10:11 am
Merry Christmas Sam
December 24th, 2006 at 10:21 am
Have a wasail.
It’s SoCal, no one will notice, they’ll think it’s Olde English Ti Chi or something.
Sleighbells roasting on an open fire….
Merry Christmas.
December 24th, 2006 at 9:45 pm
Merry Christmas, Sam,
may the new year brings you strenght, tranquility and confidence.
have a wonderful holiday.
December 24th, 2006 at 11:38 pm
Sam I hope you and family have a wonderful Christmas and the happiest of New Years!
December 25th, 2006 at 3:58 am
And a very merry christmas to you too, Sam.
December 25th, 2006 at 7:22 pm
Dear Sam, I hope you have a very Happy Christmas, filled with friends and family, laughter and love. Oh, and some jolly good egg nog or something!! Merry merry!!
December 25th, 2006 at 9:44 pm
Good wishes to your ProblemTree. And to you Too.
December 26th, 2006 at 9:44 am
I haven’t bothered with a tree for five years. When I was married, I let my evil ex-wife, the Black Queen, and her two sprogs, the Black Prince and Princess, do all the decorating.
December 27th, 2006 at 12:28 am
Samyerthegreatestmerrychrishmashhhh!!!
December 31st, 2006 at 10:07 am
While ?hingin? aboot like a knotless thread? this fine Hogmanay, I checked out your position in that Scottish web list thing and noticed an adjacent site about some poor fellow struggling with life. In his little blurb he says he stays in The Borders.
Well, there it was. Maybe not the cause, but a contributing factor surely. All those ghastly clench faced Borderers surrounding him. The only place I can think of that is worse than The Borders is Airdrie.
Anyway, what?s that got to do with anything?
Nothing. I said I was at a loose end.
To wit, some advice from an expert. This New Year, do not try and ?pace yourself?, get straight into the hard liquor, get your drunken insults in first, while your friends and family are still in that polite mode, then spend the rest of the night trying to dig yourself further out of the various holes you have excavated. Works for me.
I?ve done the calcs, [ back off, I?m a f*****g scientist ] and there?s a 98.6% probability that you will have the best of times.
I?m up for an e-snog later, – on the coats in the spare room. No pressure.
All the best to you and Problemhusband and the kiddywinks.
December 31st, 2006 at 12:31 pm
‘The world’s great age begins anew,
the golden years return.
The earth doth like a snake renew
Her winter weeds outworn:
Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam,
Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.’
‘A New World’ by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Happy New Year Sam, to you and yours.
December 31st, 2006 at 10:50 pm
Happy New Year Sam, even if yer no speakin!
Hope 2007 brings you everything you desire.
January 1st, 2007 at 5:21 pm
Happpy New Year, Sam
January 6th, 2007 at 2:49 am
My parents finally broke down and got a fake Christmas tree. They were upset with themselves, but I thought it made sense.
January 8th, 2007 at 4:27 pm
Happy New Year and a very belated Merry Xmas, old bean! And to the rest of the menagerie. Hope you had a lovely one. XX
January 9th, 2007 at 1:46 am
Dear Sam,
It?s 1.43am and I?ve just come in from the sitooterie [quick smoke] and it?s chucking it down, I mean in sheets, fair stottin? so it is. We didn?t have dinner tonight but went instead for the strong drink and conversation. I?m not the alky I make out, and like all Scots, I?m wary of actual verbal communication with the basket holder of my emotional eggs, but it?s been the best night for ages. Why am I telling you this? I?ll just tell you, because I went out for a smoke just there and discovered it was pelting it down and the first person I thought of was you.
I didn?t think ?Oh it?s raining, that reminds me of a pen pal in America.?
I thought,? Jesus! Look at that! I bet it?s not like this in fucking California!?
I was on my way to bed but couldn?t resist looking in on the auld blog and was delighted to see that you are a window starer too.
Pip pip,
AHK.
January 10th, 2007 at 4:30 pm
You’ve made me want to get a real tree next year. For the kids. And excellent use of The Santa Fallacy – I’m going to steal some of those tips, if you don’t mind.