December 2006

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In 1965 my mother bought me a Christmas tree for my birthday. Yes, I said birthday, which is in November.

She did this because it killed tenderhearted me every year to have to discard the real tree we had used. It wasn't that Christmas, with its presents and break from school, was over. It was the tree itself. I didn't mind the undecorating. I minded the tree suddenly becoming trash (remember this was well before recycling them happened).

The tree she bought me was an aluminum one, with the crinkles in the fake needles. She also bought the necessary accessory, a color wheel. I remember how happy I was putting the whole thing together when it came time to decorate. I remember being happy seeing the tree twinkling in the glow of its color wheel.

And I remember being even happier when the day came in January to take down the tree, because it was not going to be trash. It was going to be carefully taken apart, with each branch put back in its paper tube and all the tubes put back in the box, waiting for their next appearance.

We used that tree for many years, until I could no longer get home for Christmas in time to set it up (a task Mother found daunting), when we switched over to using the toothpick tree.

A few years later, a friend of mine told me that someone he knew really wanted an aluminum tree. I knew the new person would give it a good home and would love it, so the tree and its color wheel left for their new home. Its first Christmas season in its new location I had the chance to see it, once again twinkling in the glow of its color wheel.

And that it still isn't trash makes me happiest of all.