There we were, all crowded into a 1985 chevrolet paneled van. There were no seats or seatbelts in the back so all of us, my friend Kelly, her older sister and brother, my sisters, and all of our parents squeezed into the vehicle. We would sit in the back and try to hold onto the walls. There was a lot of sliding and shifting, but I do remember one thing: my dad always got us a carton of chocolate milk and donuts. We went to Dunkin Donuts before we took off for this quest for a Christmas tree. We were out in the forests on dirt roads and we were being thrown all over the back of the van. I laughed and thought it was hilarious while my friends mother had a look of terror on her face. I knew we were fine, I knew everything was going to be okay, daddy was driving.

So finally the van came to a halt and us kids all spread out like we were being deployed for forest combat. I stared at all the trees that were about 10 feet taller than me, on average. We had to look for one that was short because we had a low ceiling. I remember envying my friend Kelly’s ceiling because it was high, and that meant they got to get a bigger and taller tree. I envied their tree, they knew how to decorate it better too. We all walked around drinking chocolate milk and finishing up the donuts when I heard my dad, say “this is the one, this one here!” We all ran over to see it…

It was a beauty. A true diamond in the rough, a rare gem of a tree. It was about 7 feet tall, it was a Noble Fir so it had those spacey roomy absences in the brush that made it easier to hang ornaments from. I liked this tree, I liked it a lot. Finally when my mom made it over and executed the final decision, which was always left up to her, my dad got out his saw. He just started going at it with all the strength he had. All of the sudden it starts toppling over and my friend’s dad, Paul, had to catch it with all the strength he had. So, I knew we had our tree. About a half an hour later we both had a tree, of course the other one was much loftier and grand in my view. Of course now that we had two trees, you can probably imagine the spacing issue in the van was getting a bit hectic. I remember I had pine needles in my face and up my pants as I tried to corner myself against a wall. I basically lost sight with everyone and everything. It was hard to endure that ride back being separated from the rest of the people and lost in a part of the wall of the van. We finally got home and unloaded the trees and put them in our houses.

My dad always makes the mistake of taking off too much because our ceiling is low, so he starts off with good intentions, but it ends up making a dwarfish rendition of our previously perfect tree. So, then came the fixings. My mom came up from the basement with all the boxes of ornaments. We let my dad put the lights on, and then my mom, my sister and I all did the ornaments. When we were done, the fruition of our hard work was greatly appreciated. It was wonderful. It truly felt like the spirit of the Holiday Season had just swept into our very own living room. It was a lit, breathing, glowing rendition of happiness. The only problem was… there were no boxes underneath it. Not yet at least…

That night I came out to admire the tree as I got a cup of milk to drink. I took in the beauty and that feeling of tingliness and coziness that you get around the Holidays. There were two new boxes underneath the tree and I went over to rattle them, I couldn’t figure out the contents, but I had time. I smelled something a little bit noxious and very strong, but it smelled like a fake rendition of a pine tree overpowering the actual original smell of the tree. Oh well, I didn’t know what it was so I just went back to sleep.

Well, what had transpired the night before is here to come. My dad had bought this product called “Tree 4-ever”. I had seen him put it up into the cabinet the day that we had bought our Christmass tree. Well, I guess my dad had used the stuff on the tree. You see my dad has this motto "the more, the merrier!" , apparently he never followed those fashion cliches like "less is more." My father does nothing in moderation, and never has. He doesn’t drink, eat, sleep, or sport in any sort of moderate way. Everything to extremes. So he apparently thought, hey, if a teaspoon will keep it nice and healthy and green, what would half or better yet the whole bottle do? He had all the greatest intentions. He wanted a better Christmas for all of us. He didn’t have the best Christmases when he was young. He didn't get many presents, and I imagine oatmeal and candy canes were the only treats he got. So, I understood my dad’s plight to make Christmas so special for us, and he was so eager to help the process of Holiday Spirit come along quite well. The tree was a catalyst to this feeling and spirit in his mind. When he was little, they never had a tree.

So, I guess my dad did end up pouring the whole bottle of “Tree 4-Ever” into the little base pot. All I know is that the next morning was the most heartbreaking, disappointing time I’ve had during the Christmas season. I awoke to a pile of brown needles on the floor where our Christmas tree had once radiated true beauty. It was as if there had been a tornado in just that one corner of our house and a great wind had sucked all of the pine needles off and left them on the floor. And then some gremlin spraypainted the needles a shit brown color. Santa Claus would not be happy with this sight. My face fell and my heart felt heavy. None of us had any words, and nobody said anything for a good two minutes.

Then, finally, as if on cue, my mom said “What did you dooooo?” turning towards my Dad. My sister’s and my eyes just looked over and imploringly gave a look of trust and innocence begging for an answer. He didn’t know what to say. I think in his mind he was going through all of the options that he had, what could he say? He could deny it, but usually he never said sorry, it was hard for him to admit fault, especially in such an emotional situation.


My dad walked over to the hole in the counter where the garbage went and looked through the garbage and retrieved the “Tree 4-Ever” bottle and started to wrinkle his brows. I suspected he was reading the fine print. “I didn’t do anything Les!” The wrinkled brows and quizzical expression showed his guilt. The room was silent.
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After we all had realized what happened my dad tried to rationally explain his reasoning for doing what he did. It didn’t make sense, but to him it sort of did in some old-fashioned sort of rationality, which didn't go by the laws of chemistry or physics, in fact my dad was never very good at science and didn't really go to doctors when he needed to.

He couldn’t get out of it. My sister began to cry, she was only 3 at this time. That made me cry, and then my mom started freaking out and yelling at my dad. He was never wrong, no matter what circumstance so he didn’t say sorry… he just immediately skipped to the part where he wanted to dispose of it. So we all had to carry it out of the sliding glass door, while some remaining needles fell off as we picked it up. It was now a brown dangling skeleton sort of affair that had no semblance to any sort of tree. We never did replace that tree, I think it was too tramautic to get over it and by this time, tree places were not selling the good ones anymore.

Christmas wasn't ruined that year, but we all did feel the communal loss of some of that holiday "glow." It did look a little strange when we had our annual Christmas Eve party and there was no tree. We really didn't say much and nobody mentioned anything, it was a "touchy" subject. We enjoyed the presents and the food, and Christmas was just as special as ever, and dad had managed to pull the whole thing off quite well. Dad always managed to make Christmas special for us, because he never had a great Christmas. It makes me want to cry thinking of all the labor he put into putting up the lights on the house, decorating the tree with us, going out into the forests with his saw to pick out a perfect tree, putting all the little lights around all of our bushes... the list was endless. And of course, my mom made Christmas perfect with her perfect packaging of the presents and all the delectable food she made, there was always too much.

Christmas didn't change that much, we just never let dad water the Christmas tree again, that was up to me, my mother, and my sister.