Let's talk trees.
No, it's not the annual novelette about the sweet gum balls which arrive every year on that little, once three-foot twig I planted about 50 years ago. And it's not about the trim job that's going to take place on the huge pin oak tree that was just my height when I planted it a couple of years earlier. It should have received a haircut five or six years ago.
Nope. It's not about the surprising amount of colorful foliage in the autumn that's winding down, and it's not about the damage from windstorms that have wreaked havoc on those decorative Bradford pear trees that provide snowbanks which did not materialize the past two winters. Maybe we'll have a good, short-lived five- or six-inch snow this year. It's overdue.
Trees? Yep. Let's just rekindle a few memories about those trees which take top honors, first-place and memory-makers every year about this time: Christmas trees.
Today's generation-members might be lost in the woods, or stuck with stickers, if they had lived in those ancient years before and during World War II. However, they would catch up in incremental jumps every decade until now, when trees of every type and shape start appearing in twinkling rows just about the time the Halloween jack-o-lanterns are put away for another year ... and Thanksgiving decorations are shoved to the storage room until ... well, you know where this is headed.
Readers from every generation can pause and retrace steps they have taken during their childhood and compare them with the Christmas tree stories that are being written today by families with their little members who are anxiously waiting for Santa.
I remember my first Christmas tree. It was back in those Neanderthal days just before that Second World War. It was always a small tree, cedar, of course, which was nailed on a wooden cross and which made the whole house smell like ... well, like a cedar tree. There were no lights on the tree, just red and green garlands (ropes) which had been saved for many years. And glistening from the top was a handmade star that was a tinfoil covered piece of cardboard. And icicles? They were carefully removed when the tree went down and were wrapped on another piece of cardboard which kept the strands from tangling.
That was a first-tree description. But the real first tree that became a memory-maker was one that occurred just after Pearl Harbor was bombed and the challenges that faced the world were beginning to appear.
It was about 10 days after Pearl Harbor that it became time to begin thinking about Christmas -- something to take memories away from the devastation that was occurring and which posed an uncertain future for the some 130 million Americans in our grand old U.S.A. at that time.
It was a Saturday afternoon when I was bundled in enough layers of clothes that I probably looked like a round blob of wool or cotton from which dangled two arms that could barely be lifted so I could dab at my nose that was reacting to the air that was really warm, particularly since a breeze had shifted from the north in preparation for an upcoming frosty morning.
So, properly dressed, dad and I headed out for the woods that were within walking distance, some hills and adjacent fields that were bound to produce excellent cedar trees, one of which would be that special one. Dad had a saw. And I had a little toy one that couldn't have made a dent in a pencil.
Arriving at the special site, the search began. And it was quite a search. At the edge of the field were little trees and middle-sized trees, and a few whoppers that were eliminated from the selection pool. And then ... it was walking and looking, and looking and walking, and heading into the edge of the woods and then back out, and then retracing steps, as I was given the job of picking that special tree. It was the hardest job I've ever had in my life. Well, not really, but it was a challenge. Every tree was special.
I finally settled on one. Dad asked with a sort of twinkle, "Are you sure?" And, of course, I decided to look a little more until I found an even more perfect specimen. It was the one!
To make this long story shorter, the tree came down. Dad carried it back to its final resting place, and I was graduated to being the big saw carrier.
The tree was nailed to crossed boards, moved into the house and it was then, heaven forbid -- the tree had an unusually flat side. You know the rest of the story. It was turned this way and that until finally the flat side rested against the wall and the decorating began. The box of memories was opened and I had my first experience of tree decorating. It must have been the prettiest tree I can ever remember because I can still picture it in that foggy grey area called my brain.
Later -- the annual tree hunt was always held -- the trees got a little taller each year and soon were held in place by rocks in a bucket, or some other container with water. Eventually, the decorations began to change, finally ending with a couple of strings of lights. Some of the old decorations were also intermingled with new/old ones and finally included a lighted star at the top of the tree. My contribution one year was a string of lights shaped like candles -- I think they were called Nova lights, I'm not sure. I had saved my nickels and dimes and sacrificed the usual candy or ice cream cones for a special decoration to the tree. It survived for several years. Time passed but there was always a tree, always a cedar until I moved out into the world and, though supplying the tree was always my job, the decorating and other activities evolved.
And today ... the stuff (I use the term loosely) available for every type artificial evergreen is mind-boggling. Stuff from each of the past 50-plus years holds memories, including flocked trees, a real-life pine tree, all types of blinking lights, bulbs, plastic decorations that sparkle and glisten and, no doubt, have contributed and continue to contribute to memories of today's generation. I'm sure you have the same type memories, though different in so many ways, at your house. But, no doubt, those first Christmas trees are always there to provide memories that are everlasting.
Epilogue: Let us not forget that with all the trees and Santas and presents and carols and confusion and rushing and family dinners and letters to Santa and -- this could go on and on -- let us never forget that peeking through all the glitter is a shining star, the one which appeared in the sky over Bethlehem so many years ago. May it always shine through and remain the central part of what Christmas really is all about.
The phrase "Season's Greetings" has meaning but nothing can ever, and must never, replace that ringing proclamation: "Merry Christmas!" That is my wish for you.
Dodie Evans is the former owner and longtime editor of the Gravette News Herald. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 12/20/2017