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| << December14, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - Memory Tree |
December24, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - Special Days - Painful Memories >> |
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Merry Christmas, My Family. I've been busy. Judging by the number of comments coming in, I know all of you have been too. It's that time of the year. I haven't had time to read my email in a few days. Ask Ginny, that is a first. I pray you are taking a few moments for yourselves, your families, and enjoying the season. Last weekend, I finally started to feel better. After three weeks of pain, your prayers cut in. My sciatic nerve is settling. I cannot thank you enough. I have a Christmas humor story for you tonight. This is a true one. Yeah I know, I'm a moron, but I can still laugh at myself. Check below the story for comments on my last few stories and the link to my story page. There are too many comments to include all of them, but I promise, if you email a comment, I will reply. I believe, if someone takes the time to email me a comment, they deserve a reply. I appreciate one reader, who told me to stop begging for more readers. She was right. My goal for 1000 members was becoming tiresome. I have more than 800 wonderful members I call family. I'm happy. Afterall, we are family. If anyone is interested, check the link to Ginny's craft site. She just posted some of her photos. She has a lot of wonderful crafts and cards available for the Christmas season. http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=94275 Now for today's story. I Found My Tree "That one looks good, Jim." Mum said to Dad. "It's not bushy enough." Dad replied. "It's the right height." "Not bushy." Dad repeated. I sat quietly in the back seat. Mum and Dad drove along a rutted, dirt road, arguing over tree-after-tree. It was a yearly ritual. "There's one!" Mum pointed to the left. "Where?" Dad asked. "Right there, next to that big rock." "It's too tall" "Cut it shorter!" "Ethel, it's too tall." Dad argued back. We had a small house. Mum usually got a little tree and sat it on a table in the corner. Our black-n-white, floor-model TV was on one side. The sofa sat on the other. We had to slide the sofa from the corner and partially block the back door to make room for the tree. My impatience grew. "Let's just pick one." I thought to myself. I'd spent months dreaming about the toys in the "Sears" catalogue. I wanted our tree. It didn't matter what it looked like. The faster we got a tree, the faster Santa would come. "How about that one?" Dad said. He stopped the car. "I don't know." Mum was hesitant. We got out of the car. I followed Mum and Dad up the side of a snowy hill. "Looks good to me." Dad said. Mum walked around to the other side. "It's a little bare in the back." She stared at it. "I guess we could turn that side to the wall. No one will notice." Dad got the saw, cut it down, and stuffed it into the trunk. "Yes!" I cheered to myself. "Christmas was here." Dad mounted the tree on the stand and dragged it into the house. With Mum's direction, he got it on the box in the corner. "Turn it the other way." she said. "I can see the bare spot." Dad turned the tree. "A little more." She said. He turned it again. "I guess that will do. Christmas cards will hide the bad spots." Then the words I knew would come were spoken. "We should have got the other one." "It was too tall!" Dad said. "We could have cut it shorter." Mum countered. It was the same every year. I grew up, married, and had to pick my own tree. Like my dad, I cruised the roads looking for a tree. I'd walk miles through the woods. Snow turned to ice on my jeans. Branches slapped my eyes. The cold wind turned my face red. I'd spot a tree, trudge through the snow, and look at it. "Too tall." Another would catch my eye. "Bare on one side." I grumbled. "I guess I can turn that side to the wall or put a card in there to hide the open spot." We had children. New laws were implemented. Cutting a tree in the wild became illegal. I discovered a place where I could go in November, tag my tree, and return before Christmas to cut it. It was the perfect solution: I could cut my own tree; the lot was easy for kids to walk through; and they supplied free saws, hot chocolate, and sleigh rides. In November, I drove to the lot and tagged my tree. I wrote my name on the little tag, tied it in a visible spot, and walked away. "The kids are going to enjoy this!" I said out loud. A week before Christmas, I packed the kids into my Chevrolet Chevette - a small hatch-back, from the '80's. We drove to the lot, trudged to the area where I tagged my tree, and walked in circles. "Where's our tree, Daddy?" "It's around here somewhere, Vanessa." I replied. "Maybe over there." I pointed. Justin tossed a snow ball and whined. "Daddy, I'm cold." "I know, son. We'll find it soon." We didn't. We wandered all over the lot and couldn't find it. I got upset. Someone cut my tree, even though I had my tag on it. We gave up and looked for another tree. "There it is!" I pointed. Justin and Vanessa looked. It was tall - about twelve feet high. The branches spread evenly on all sides. We had a large room with a high ceiling. It would fit perfectly. "This looks good. What do you guys think?" "I love it, Dad." I knew what they thought, "The faster we got a tree, the faster Santa would come." I grabbed my saw and started to cut through the trunk of our tree. The blade was sharp and sliced easily through the soft wood. "Dad!" Vanessa called out. "What? Will you let me cut the tree!" I snapped and was immediately sorry for being irritable. "Sorry, Vanessa. Daddy is busy. What is it?" "Dad, there's a tag on this branch." "Oh No!" I thought. "I was mad someone cut my tree, and here I am cutting a tree that belongs to someone else." "What does it say, Vanessa?" Vanessa was proud of her new reading skills. She read slowly, "Michael T. Smith - Tantallon. Dad, that's you!" She screamed loud enough to flush a rabbit from it's hiding spot. "I told you it was here somewhere." I said. To myself I thought, "This tree was meant to be." I began to saw again. There was a crack as the last inch of wood snapped. The tree wobbled and began to fall - in my direction. I scrambled out of the way, tripped, and fell face first into the snow, with the tree landing across my legs. "Daddy? Daddy, are you OK?" Vanessa asked. She rushed to my side. Justin threw a snowball at me. I knew what he thought, "Stop playing in the snow under the branches, Dad. The faster we get the tree home, the faster Santa will come." I stood up. Clumps of snow melted on the lenses of my glasses. The water droplets distorted my vision. My kids looked like they were swimming in a fishbowl. After brushing myself off, I grabbed the lower branch of the tree and dragged it - what seemed like four miles - to the car. I tripped twice over tree stumps - putting my kids in the fishbowl again. The tree was stretched out beside my small car. It was one of those moments when you realize, "A tree in the woods looks a lot smaller." I grabbed an end and lifted it up onto the roof of my car. It teetered and held. I went to the other end, lifted, and the damn thing fell off, toppling me into the snow again. The fishbowl-boy threw another snow- ball at me. "Hurry up, Dad. I'm cold." Two men, the size of small oxen came along. "Need a hand?" "No! This tree is my blanket. I'm taking a nap." What I really said was, "That would be great. I'd appreciate it." How did two oxen get into the fish-bowl with my kids? The tree sat on the roof of my car. "Thanks, guys." I called after them, as they trudged off in search of their tree. I got my rope, assessed the situation, and talked out loud. "If I open the windows, I can run the rope through them and keep the tree from sliding off. The tip of the tree can be roped to the front bumper and the trunk to the rear one. That'll work." "Dad, I'm cold." Vanessa whined. "I know, Honey. Daddy is cold too." Justin hit me in the butt with a snowball. "Justin, stop it!" I yelled. After the tree was secured, I took Justin and Vanessa for their hot chocolate and sleigh ride. They were cold before, but now didn't want to leave. "Dad, can we do another ride?" Justin whined. "No! We have to get the tree home." For the first time in his life, he didn't whine. I knew why. He thought, "The faster we get the tree home, the faster Santa will come." We got to the car. I tried to open the door. It wouldn't move. It was another one of those moments. If you tie a rope through the windows of your car, the doors will not open. We were finally on our way. I peered through the branches, trying to see the road ahead. Wind whipped off the ocean, as we followed the road that twisted along the coast of Nova Scotia. Every gust caught in the branches and caused my small car to sway. The branches hung from all sides. People decorating their homes stopped and stared at the green tumbleweed on wheels pass their homes. I pulled that tree through my door - with the help of a neighbour - and got it on the stand. After decorating, I sat back and admired it. It was a lot of work, but I found my tree. Michael T. Smith To read more of my stories or to sign up for my twice weekly posts, go to: http://archives.zinester.com/86758/ Feel free to share my stories. I only ask that you leave the link for others to read more of my stories or even subscribe. Please send your comments to mtsmith@qwestonline.com and send the story to your friends. Now for comments from the last few stories. JESUS...Is The Reason For The Season Barb ************** This one is edited because my friend gives personal info. Michael, I just wanted to thank you so much for sharing your wonderful stories with everyone. I have been signed up for over a year and truly enjoy reading your stories. It was really great to read your last one about the bell. That sounds like a wonderful tradition to pass on. Your story of the Christmas tree ornaments telling so many stories of your life makes me think of my Christmas tree. My daughters who are now 16 and 13 years old, think about putting up the tree on Thanksgiving weekend, but we dread pulling out the artificial tree and all of the boxes of ornaments and lights. The girls make a comment every year that our tree always looks the same year after year. I told them that it is the same Christmas tree and ornaments, so it will always look the same. This year I decided to do something different. I bought all new lights, ribbon to use as garland and bows, gold balls in many different sizes. When we got the lights up, they are all white lights, not multi colored like normal. The tree did look different. Then adding the ribbon and bows changed it some more. We added the gold balls and it looks like a tree from a magazine. The kids were so impressed that we could make the same tree look so different. I decided that we did need some of the old ornaments on the tree to make it ours. I got the box of ornaments out and looked for the ones that would match the tree. There were the ones that it didn't matter that they didn't match, they needed to be up on the tree. The kids first Christmas ornaments were the first ones, then came the ones of my grandparents names from the funeral home. It has In Memory of Grandma and Grandpa. It has their dates of birth and death. They were my kids Great Grandparents. We were really close to them and have to say, "Remember when Grandpa did..." every single year. It is sad, but it also brings back the good memories of them and the time that we spent with them. With the ones that the girls just had to put on the tree, our Christmas tree is complete. It looks different, but it is still ours. Now for us to make memories of myself and the girls as family is going to be important. I will pass on all of the girls ornaments on to them when the get their first apartment or house, so when they are putting up their own trees they will still have the memories of when they were little and we were a family complete with the mom, dad and 2 kids. And I will pass on some of the ones that come off of our tree too. Every year I let each of the girls pick out one special ornament that is their choice while we are our Christmas shopping. We put them on the tree and the girls know each year which ones are theirs. I started that so that they would not have to be like their mom and dad and decorate their first Christmas tree with McDonald's happy meal toys. It did look a lot like the tree that the Disney store has these days. I know that this is way to long for your comments but I did want to share this with you, because you share so many of the things that happen in your life. When I am reading your stories, it makes me think about the memories that I have of my life, the good and sometimes the sad. Lisa ***************** The Memory Tree___!!!!!!!!!!! I do much as the man in the story, but I do it as I pick up each ornament, mostly all angels, and think of the times, people, and places they all represent. Thanks for thia and all other beautiful stories. FitzofFive My ezine description page http://subs.zinester.com/86758 To unsubscribe: http://www.zinester.com/cgi/unsub.cgi?86758&0& http://subs.zinester.com/86758 |
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