Day Two

Either you missed out on day one, so essentially you are late for the party, or you came back for more.

I am calling today’s memory Christmas Karma or how tree envy can bite you on the . . .

When I was in the 2nd grade (circa 1977) my mom had made the decision that rather than spend the $ on a Christmas tree she would donate that to a local charity, and instead she would take evergreen branches from a friend who had recently trimmed the trees in his yard and we could decorate those. The result was 3 or 4 very large branches stuck in a giant green plastic laundry bucket filled with sand and water to hold them in place. It did not look tree like; instead it more closely resembled a deranged shrub. But the decision had been made so we hung lights and ornaments.

The last day of school before Christmas break my teacher Ms. Dickson asked all the children who did not have a Christmas tree yet to raise their hands. If she had asked for children who were not going to get a Christmas tree, or whose parents could not afford a Christmas tree I would have kept my hand down, but because she said “yet” I thought I had a chance, so I raised my hand. I was the only one who did, so either everyone else had been blessed with a real tree that year, or they were too afraid to admit it. Ms. Dickson graciously informed me that I could take the classroom tree home.

I was so excited as I waited by the curb with my tree for my Mom to collect me. Luckily the family vehicle was a blue 1972 VW van so I knew there was plenty of room. When the van rolled up and the door opened there was already a tree inside. My sister Jenni had brought home the first grades classroom tree as well. My mother had tried to explain to Jenni’s teacher, and then to mine, that it wasn’t that we could not afford a tree, it was that we had made the decision as a family to give that money to charity. I do not know if the teachers believed her or not, but either way, my tree joined my sisters in the van.

I was set to undecorated the unsightly bush in the dining the dining room and hang our family treasures on my tree, but my Mom was not going for that. So this was the year that Jenni had a tree in her bedroom, and I had tree in my bedroom, and we opened our presents seated around Charlie brown’s Christmas tree’s mutant cousin.
But wait . . . there is more.

Flash forward to 2004. My Paul was in the first grade and Matthew was 3. If you know Kathleen and me, then you know that the tree issue is sort of a compromise. I come from tree people and Kathleen comes from not tree people, (no they are not Jewish, although that is a common misconception). So, some years we have a big tree, and some years we, ok, *I* have to make do with a miniature tree, (or several as the case may be). 2004 was not a big tree year.

That year Paul’s elementary school had been adopted by a local church and in the fall every child received a school uniform and a new pair of shoes from this church. At the beginning of winter every child received a warm jacket. I was a little uncomfortable with this as Kat and I can certainly afford to buy our children what they need, and even if that were not the case, their grandparent’s would never let them go without. However, the argument was made that I would rather be a little uncomfortable about it and have some children who might really need these items get them, than to refuse the gift that was offered.

After the coats I was thinking we were done with the free gifts. I know now I was wrong, so very wrong.

Right before Christmas break there was a knock on the door one night. I opened it to find a man dressed in a Santa Clause suit and his merry band of helpers. Paul had been selected to be the recipient of Santa’s bounty. They brought in several wrapped presents for both boys, and since we did not have a tree they also gifted us with a three foot artificial light up color changing led tree. I showed them the mini trees we had up, I showed them the wrapped presents on top of the entertainment center, and I offered to show them the gifts I had not wrapped yet as proof that we absolutely were not the people that needed this blessing. I was practically begging them to take this stuff away, but they would not listen. The more I tried to explain, the more they looked at me with that “bless his heart” expression and I knew there was no way I would ever convince them that we were not a needy family.

I do not fault Paul for this fiasco. I am sure they asked his class who had a tree, and we did not. Or more likely he made a pronouncement that Santa wasn’t coming to his house, since we do not do Santa (which is a story for another day), and it was taken the wrong way.

My Mom was not around to hear how this played out, but I am sure she would have appreciated the symmetry and poetic justice in the whole story.