Of all the symbols of the Christmas season, I find the Christmas tree the most evocative. From the smell of evergreen boughs and the decorating of the tree to the wrapped presents underneath it, they all remind me of Christmases past. When we lived in Weymouth, the whole family would go to whatever tree lot my father had chosen. Over the years, the trees all looked pretty much alike, either a fir or a balsam and always so tall that the top had to be trimmed as well as the base in order to fit it into the living room.
My father was both a cautious and frugal man, so the tree lights could not be kept on if no one was in the room, even if you left for just a few minutes. This continued for years even after the small lights that stayed cool came out. That was his cautious side. His frugal side meant we reused tinsel (back when it was a relative to aluminum foil.) Peeling it off the ball it had been molded into the previous January was the least pleasant part of decorating.
Every family has its traditions around when to put up the tree. After my younger sister was born on Dec.22, our tree didn’t go up until the 23, so she wouldn’t confuse her birthday and Christmas. When my husband was growing up, his father brought the tree home on Christmas Eve. They never knew until they were older that the reason for waiting until the 24th was that the trees were cheaper then.
When we moved to Amherst, we bought our trees from the Boy Scouts. One year, my mother thought she would like a Scotch pine. Looking at it in the stand made her realize she didn’t like it. Fortunately, we lived next to the Boy Scout leader, and my brother and I were able to return it. I think the fullness of the Scotch pine was too much for someone who had grown up with white pine Christmas trees.
As with most of our holidays, we would end our day in Rochester. My grandfather always cut down a white pine from the edge of the gravel pit next to the house. I loved those trees. They always had a feathery, enchanted quality. As my grandparents grew older, the trees became smaller tabletop size, but they always seemed magical.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
By Connie Eshbach