December 13, 2004
Greetings from a man named Bunyan,
I’ve always wanted to be a lumberjack. I like the idea of being outdoors, wearing big boots and plaid shirts, singing that special Lumberjack Song, swinging a big sharp tool.
That’s why I always look forward to tramping out into the woods with my family and capturing a Christmas tree, right out of the ground. Armed with only my lumberjack instincts and a saw-thing with extra pointy teeth, I like to pit my abilities against the wily pine. Sure, we could buy one at the grocery store from one of those tree gypsies, but then we wouldn’t get to wear our big boots and plaid shirt.
Because of a flaw in our planning, (namely we didn’t do any) we arrived at the tree farm very close to closing time. If you want the tree farmer to bring you back out of the woods on the hayride, you don’t want to keep him out past suppertime. We scurried off into the woods, promising to capture our tree post haste. Generally, lumberjacks do not ‘scurry’.
Ordinarily when you pick out the tree, you can’t take the first one you like. You must look at every other tree in the forest including the birch trees, and rule them out as too tall, too short, too full, too skimpy in the back, too ‘struck-by-lightning’, etc. Once these are all eliminated, then you may choose the first tree you liked.
By necessity we selected our tree in under 10 minutes. While this took a little of the magic out of the moment, it appealed to my respect for economy of effort. Whenever you need a euphemism for ‘lazy’ you may use this phrase; ‘it appealed to my respect for economy of effort’. Don’t use it in front of lumberjacks, however, or they will pull your suspenders up so high you will see stars.
We loaded our tree, the best one we ever got, and headed back to civilization. Like many intelligent people, I always worry that the tree will blow off the top of the van while I’m driving. I’ve found that it helps to drive about 15 mph, and hunch your shoulders and clench the steering wheel. Also, whenever you hit a bump, or a big truck passes you, you should hold your breath and grit your teeth. This way the tree will stay tied on with the 200 ft. of yellow nylon rope you tied in 92 granny knots, which will be frozen solid to the van.
Assuming your tree does not stage an escape on the way home, you may now put it in the special Christmas tree stand you bought that is guaranteed not to tip over. In order to get the tree into the tree stand you must cut off some of the trunk. This galls me because I paid for an 8 ft tree and now I am intentionally cutting off about $20.00 worth and throwing it back into the woods. If this weren’t a Christian holiday I would say that it was Karma.
Bringing an 8 ft. tree into the house is easier than it sounds. Since 8 ft. is taller than most doors, it helps if you carry the tree in horizontally. (YOU are not horizontal, the TREE is horizontal.)
Once the tree is mounted in the stand and put into the correct place in your home, you are required by Michigan Department of Illuminated Trees to make sure that the tree is perfectly vertical. I have a certified representative of the Michigan Department of Illuminated Trees residing in our home, who guided me in the tree verticalizing. It was a complicated and painful process. This is how I discovered our house was crooked.
Having a crooked house explains why I can never get a picture to hang level, or make a good omelet. After pushing the tree, pulling it, adjusting, cutting the trunk, and shaving half an inch off the carpet, I was finally able to get the tree to appear straight. However now all the furniture looks like it’s leaning.
One thing I learned this year is that I don’t know how to put lights on the tree. Somehow I missed the light-stringing class in high school. I understand it is part science, part art, so maybe it was one of those ‘elective’ classes like marching band-saws or musical chair-drafting. Or Bio-sketching. Or Chemistry-Interpretive Dance. (Went too far, didn’t I?)
I made the effort, even struggling with the ignorance, to get the lights on the tree, but Suzanne gave me several stern warnings before I was directed to put down the lights and step away from the tree. Once I was safely horizontal on the couch, I could see the glaring problems of poorly distributed tree lights. I have to hand it to my wife; she is far better at hanging those lights than I am. As much as it pains me to say it, next year I may have to lay on the couch again while she puts those lights on the correct way.
Thursday afternoon the kids decorated the tree. This year they were actually able to get the ornaments on the tree with only a moderate risk of injury. There is quite a menagerie of decorations; glass bulbs from when I was a boy, paper bells from some kindergarten project, limoge, plastic, tin and string, all adding some color, texture and history to our best tree we ever got. And every year we hang that one ornament made with a picture of some kid we can’t identify. If it’s one of you, please write back.
The best part about the Christmas tree process is basking in the glow of the carefully arranged light strands, thinking about that special night which will be here before we know it, and yet is taking forever to get here.
Hope this finds you feeling sappy,
David
No comments:
Post a Comment