Community voices: Our last ‘real’ Christmas tree

This was going to be the year; the year we abandoned the tree farm and invested in a three-piece, quick to assemble, pre-lit Christmas tree.

I continued to cling to tradition each year insisting upon a fresh cut Frazier fir all because I grew up in the 60s with the latest and greatest most fashionable aluminum Christmas tree in the neighborhood. Each year we pulled the shiny branches from paper tubes to assemble the tree. Then we set up the rotating colored lamp and watched the tree turn from blue, to green, to red and yellow, and back again.

There was no “smell of Christmas” in our house unless the rotating color wheel became stuck and the plastic began to melt.

My first big rebellion against family tradition was to buy my very own real, previously alive Christmas tree. Sure there have been disasters. No fires mind you, but we have seen more than one tree commit “timber” in the family room. One December my poor mom was babysitting when the tree fell right across the coffee table into their laps.

The kids are grown now and starting their own traditions. All our friends have their artificial trees up and decorated quickly. Time is precious and there has been this nagging concern that we shouldn’t be killing trees this way. Or are we supporting the tree farmers? I’m never quite sure.

I embarked on a mission this year to find the perfect artificial tree to love — tall and sturdy, and looking as close to real as possible. Then sticker shock set in. “Oh, but it’s an investment,” the saleswoman implored. “You’ll get your money back in four to five years.”

We couldn’t do it. The next day we trekked to our favorite Buford tree farm and selected one much too large for the two of us to cart into the house.

The fun really began when husband noticed the fresh cut tree trunk was sliced at an angle. The 6-inch base of this tree wasn’t going to be straightened with a hacksaw, but husband’s chainsaw was out of commission. (We seldom have reason to go cutting down trees in our neighborhood.)

While husband went about retrieving different types of alternative saws, I texted our neighbor to ask if by chance they had a chainsaw we could borrow.

My friend’s reply, “Karen, things are never as bad as they seem. … Give him another chance!”

Once the tree was cut, placed upright and secretly secured to prevent those crashing moments, it was time to tackle the lights. By the time we’d repaired the strings, replaced burnt out bulbs and wrapped the tree in twinkling lights, another four or five hours had elapsed. We were finally ready to invite the kids over to help decorate the tree.

There were ornaments too heavy for branches, and branches too long or short. I’d also somehow forgotten what a pain it is to crawl under a tree each day to keep it watered.

Even so, this year’s tree might be the loveliest yet. It was absolutely magical silhouetted against the window with the snow falling silently.

I bet my neighbor’s artificial tree was just as magical though. So, clear me a path the day after Christmas when all those fake trees are 75 percent off. We’re not getting any younger.