Oh, Christmas Tree
If you really think about it, celebrating Christmas requires a bit of skill. Nothing short of military training is required to brave the malls. Oscar-worthy performances are necessary to convince elderly relatives that footie pajamas were just what you wanted this year. It’s time to put into practice the evasive maneuvers formerly used for in-laws, but now essential to avoiding bell-ringing Santas. And let’s not forget about preparing dinner. Fortunately, Martha Stewart isn’t in the can this year and probably has a TV special designed to help you with all that holiday cooking and baking . . . and you may even learn how to make a festive Christmas centerpiece out of pine cones and candy canes.
I realize that everyone can’t be good at everything. I won’t mock your poor gift-wrapping skills (although there may be a book on origami in your stocking). I won’t point out that while you’re dressed like Santa, you’re still about two Scotches short of being jolly or merry. I won’t even find it unforgivable if you get so preoccupied with trying to catch our neighbor under the mistletoe that you let my second cousin eat a hearty sprig of holly.
I will, however, belittle and demean you if your Christmas decorations suck.
I discovered this personality flaw several years ago when someone dear to me proudly presented the entirety of his Christmas display – a tree.
Which is fine, except the tree looked remarkably similar to something out of a Peanuts comic strip.
No, wait. Charlie Brown at least had the one ornament.
Before I could even think to stop myself I said, “That is a sad looking tree.”
The reply was an aghast, “Why?”
I might have mentioned that it could be due to the fact that the tree was four feet tall and possessed all of a dozen branches. I could have faked astonishment and enthusiasm that someone was talented enough to create an artificial half-dead tree. But I tried not to completely deflate the feeling of Christmas cheer and said simply, “Uh . . . well . . . there are no ornaments.”
That’s not to say that the “tree” (I use that term loosely) was naked. Oh no. It was adorned with many strands of colored lights. Now, in my experience, I have seen two distinct light stringing techniques. There are the people (e.g. me) who meticulously weave the lights into the branches, thereby hiding the wire and giving the visual effect of a multi-racial firefly jamboree. Then there is the somewhat lazier route of holding one end of the strand of lights and skipping around the tree as if it were a Maypole, tugging the cord along in level, evenly-spaced, spiraling tiers.
What I witnessed used neither of these methods. I believe, after great effort, I have worked out the process developed to decorate the tree in question:
1. Ball up strands of lights like dirty laundry.
2. Toss wadded up lights into the box containing the tree.
3. Shake vigorously.
4. Pull out tree tangled in lights.
5. Plug in and enjoy.
There was no pattern, no sense to be made of the jumble of cord. It looked as if someone feared the tree was hostile and tied it up to protect gift-exchangers and carolers everywhere. So while I suppose I should have simply smiled and exclaimed, “Lovely!” I believe what actually came out was, “Is that a Christmas decoration or a prisoner of war?”