Butt-Ugly
Christmas Trees

By
R. D. Popko
Silver Bells
          It has been several years now since we have given into the commercialism of the sterile, artificial Christmas tree. A seven-foot northern pine, which has served its purpose well over the years, is beginning to wane. We figured we could get another two years out of it but are presently re-evaluating the timetable.  Dennis, our year old kitten, has taken a liking to our tree and will no doubt figure prominently in our final decision.

          Ornate with several strings of colored lights, a pot pourri of ornaments, garland, and candy canes, and topped with a white, illuminating angel it certainly was a site to behold.  In case you missed it, I am referring to past tense.

          When at home we could effectively dissuade Dennis from his pursuit of feline bliss.  However, when we are away he rules the limbs with a vengeance. The lights still work, but aren't quite the same as originally strung.  We removed the garland.  There are still a few ornaments attached which he likes to paw at much the same way a boxer shows affection to a suspended punching bag.  Our dachshund dog, Wilson, revels in all the potential "balls" he can fetch. And, of course, both Wilson and our other dachshund, KC, now have peppermint breath.
We have given in and now pay little heed to Dennis in his psuedotimber playground.  The wire branches are drooped from his weight and need to be bent back up into position.  And, while the angel atop the tree is still attached, she is a fallen angel.  We have learned to ignore rattling sounds coming from the quivering branches. Confident the sad looking tree won't fall; it will come down immediately after Christmas day rather than New Year's Day.
          With this tree requiring so much more maintenance than any I can recall it did cause me to reflect on trees of Christmas's past.  When my girls were quite young we lived in a second story corner apartment on Milwaukee's south side.  The sidewalk west of our building was the only distance separating us from busy South 13th Street.  And, of course, being a corner building we had about ten feet from the building to the side street south of us.

          Not far were some local watering holes so our side street was a popular place for people to park their vehicles. This could be annoying at times, especially in the summer when you heard loud profanity and screeching tires through our screened windows as the bars closed.  In the morning, what little strip of lawn we had would be littered with various emptied vessels, cigarette butts, and trash.

          Late, one cold winter night, just a few a days after Christmas I ventured out for a breath of fresh air. To my consternation I discovered somebody had dispensed of their Christmas tree on our side "lawn."  As if it weren't enough to have to pick up after these thoughtless people I now have been relegated to disposing of their Christmas trees.

          Spotting a shiny new pick-up truck parked with one wheel over the curb and on my "lawn" I proceeded to hoist the tree into the back of his truck.  I would have loved to see his face the next day when he discovered the tree. We still chuckle from time to time about that memory.
          Neither that tree, nor the one Dennis delights in, represents the butt ugly Christmas trees, which this true story is about.  However, they did cause me to reflect deeper in my past and gave inspiration to share the experience.

          I am the eighth of nine siblings. We only saw our dad on weekends as he was employed over 100 miles from home.  At that time that was considered a great distance. Raising a large family is a difficult financial hardship. Yet, my parents saw to it we were well cared for and we never thought ourselves poor.  And yes, we had wonderful Christmas celebrations.

          When my older brothers and sisters were young dad made most of the toys.  Many of their friends wished they had them as they were original and didn't break as readily as their own store bought gifts.  By the time we, four youngest boys ranging in age from five to eleven, were receiving more store bought items then our elderly siblings did at that age.  Sadly to us boys, too many of those items were much needed clothing.  Yet, I do not recall envying my friends for their gifts as I think we were solidly grounded in our parent's teachings of true Christmas spirit.

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