“O Christmas Tree - O Christmas Tree”

 

We always had a real, green, prickly fir tree for our Christmas tree. I well remember the year that my brother and I were deemed old enough and responsible enough to go and choose THE TREE!

For some reason the trees in question were lined up outside the greengrocer’s shop on a small shopping precinct near our home. We had been given numerous instructions: It had to be ‘bushy’; not too big and not too small and within reason of the money we had been given.

We took this task very seriously. However, out of the selection left, there was only one real contender. We were both in agreement. The purchase was quickly agreed and the tree was wrapped in green netting for us so we could carry it home safely. Never were two children so proud! We wanted everyone to see us carrying our trophy homeward.

It was only when we got to our garden gate that we began to have some misgivings! What had seemed comparatively small leaning against the greengrocer’s shop, seemed now to have become much taller! It may have been smaller than the other trees on offer, but it was definitely bigger than our usual tree! And wider, too!

Mentally, my brother and I sorted out our alibis: ‘It was his idea!’; ‘No, it was hers!’

My mother was visibly shocked but valiantly began to make a space in our small front room, which seemed to shrink by the minute! She already had a pot prepared and after a struggle, the tree was in place. And it looked MAGNIFICENT!

I remembered that particular Christmas, when my grand-daughter reached the age of about four and became fully alert to all the rituals of Christmas. For some reason it had now become the custom for Christmas trees to turn into some kind of ‘style-statement’, to be elegant and minimalist. (And to be placed near the window so the neighbours could view it!)

Yukk!

A totally silver tree!

Or a green tree with decorations of one other colour only! Monochrome?

And whoever thought of putting ribbon bows on a Christmas tree?

To my mind this did not seem in keeping; and if it took so much skill and effort to ‘get it right’, then where was the fun in that?

So we brought our green (artificial, alas!)tree out of the attic and the boxes of assorted decorations that ranged from the ‘beautiful’ to the definitely verging on the ‘shabby’ that had been collected over the years. We volunteered to have said grand-daughter whilst her mother went shopping, and told her:
‘Right, you can decorate our tree for us!’

Her face was a picture!

She rummaged in every box and produced long-forgotten treasures that appealed to her child’s eye. Her selection was impressive. Anything bland or ‘contrived’ was speedily discarded.

‘What about these?’ (New and dainty silver stars.)

‘No, Grandma! But we have to have this!’ This was a solitary strand of thick green tinsel (well past its sell-by date!)

And so it went on! Hand-made decorations made in years gone by she adored. They had been made by her mother and her aunt and her uncle when they were young! They had to go on the tree! ( I could not believe I still had those!)

Hours later, it was complete! Words cannot describe it! A concoction of bright, nay, garish, colours complete with flashing lights and an array of model Santas along the edge of the stand. She loved it and I must confess I did too! Her graphic designer mother was lost for words too! But I suspect for different reasons!

But there is a moral to this story!

Over the following days, various friends, relatives and neighbours called in and were unanimous: We like your tree!

I could see why. That tree had ‘character’ and ‘soul’ and had been done with so much love and joy that it truly was symbolic of Christmas!

Merry Christmas Everyone!

(And make sure it is not a ‘politically correct’ one! It is Christmas, after all!)

Evelyn Arslan.