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A Day in the Life: The perfect Christmas tree
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Posted by tomasi Mon Dec 4, 2006 18:29:26 PST
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As the holidays approach, I am reminded of our first and only Christmas in Oregon. It was, without a doubt, one of the most unforgettable holidays we have celebrated in our 33 years of marriage.

Because all of our family was still in Bakersfield, we were heading south to spend the holiday. Now, you’re probably wondering why we would need a tree, but if you knew my wife, you wouldn’t bother to ask. Debbie is driven by the holidays and that Christmas of 1979 was no exception. She was determined to squeeze every ounce out of Christmas.

So, no sooner had the Thanksgiving turkey been consumed that the boxes of decorations came out. There was only one thing missing –– the Christmas tree.

         

Now, I’m not talking just any tree, I’m talking about a perfect tree. Of course, Debbie’s definition of perfect differs from most. Whereas I am from the “it looks good enough for me” school, Debbie seeks perfection in each selection.

So, the following morning we set out get a tree. As I drove to one of the two Christmas tree lots in Bandon, I foolishly figured it would be an easy task. This particular lot was privately owned, and therefore more expensive. The other was run by the Boy Scouts. Since I was determined that we give our money to the Boy Scouts, I first steered Debbie toward the higher priced tree lot. Luckily, she didn’t find a thing she liked.

         

Good, I thought, and drove to the opposite end of town. It was here that I got an inkling of what I was up against. After looking at each and every tree –– I mean every tree –– Debbie announced that she didn’t see a thing that was perfect. I asked her to explain perfect to me and she replied that she couldn’t give an explanation, but she’d know when she saw it. So, with that nebulous answer, we got back into our car and drove the 20 miles to Coos Bay.

         

I think we must have visited six or seven lots in Coos Bay. By now it was lunch time and I was beyond being interested in the tree hunt, but not Debbie. Without even stopping to eat, she informed me that she knew why we hadn’t found the perfect tree –– all these trees were from a farm. She explained that what we needed to do was just go out into the forest and find a tree. After all, we were surrounded by forest.

         

I was shocked. I’d always assumed the forest to be sacred. Besides, it had to be owned by someone and if that someone was the U.S. government, we definitely had no business trespassing. Yet, after I’d pleaded my case, Debbie insisted we venture off the beaten path and find that perfect tree.

         

We drove back to town to get my tree saw. Since there were less people around Bandon, I figured it might be less conspicuous if we went tree hunting in the surrounding forest.

We didn’t know much about the geography of the area, but it didn’t take long before we were deep into the woods. I parked the car on the shoulder. I had balked at the prospect of walking through the damp undergrowth, but Debbie was adamant so we started out.

Now, I’ve got to say that my wife has discriminating taste because we must have passed 50 possibilities and all of them were rejected.

The trail we were following took us deeper and deeper into the forest. I’m definitely not the mountain man type, and I was spooked by each sound we heard. As we climbed a slight rise, I was determined that once there I was cutting down the first tree that I could carry. After much huffing and puffing, we reached the top, only to find that the trees ended and the path led down into a sea of plants, many taller than us.

Debbie pointed to a stand of trees on the opposite side of the small valley and led the way down the hill. We probably hadn’t gone 50 yards when I realized that these plants were marijuana. In fact, we were smack dab in the middle of a pot plantation. I knew we were in danger and whispered to Debbie that she needed to follow me without making a sound. She was puzzled, and I sensed would rebel, so I pretended to be smoke a joint, and then pointed to the dense growth of plants. Her eyes were suddenly wide as I made a slashing motion across my neck and as quickly as we could, Debbie and I made our way back to our car.

At that point I knew that somewhere I had lost my tree saw, but I figured it was enough of a sacrifice for our lives. Keeping my eye on the rear view mirror, I drove like a maniac all the way back to Bandon.

         

Once we were back in town I pulled up to the Boy Scout lot. Debbie got out and walked over to the closest tree to our car.
         

“This,” she proclaimed, standing next to the Charlie Brown tree, “this is the perfect tree.”

         

We paid the price and quickly loaded our tree onto the top of our car’s roof.

As we drove away, I said, “I think you made a wise choice.”

         

Debbie, exhausted and defeated, just nodded. Back home we took the tree inside and began the process of decoration. Like the tree in the Peanut’s cartoon, it seemed that all the little tree needed was attention. And you know what? It was beautiful.

We stood there for a while, my arm around her as we gazed at the twinkling lights. As memories of Christmas' past filled our minds, Debbie sighed and said, “It’s absolutely the most perfect Christmas tree of all.” And, you know, I couldn’t have agreed more!

 

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