Appreciating Artificial Christmas Trees
Read more articles on Let Me Share With You and Holidays.December 7, 2007
Posted by Karen Amato Schwartz
December 7, 2007
Posted by Karen Amato Schwartz
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For some years, I’ve noticed that no sooner have Thanksgiving leftovers been refrigerated, entrepreneurs start hawking freshly cut trees. In my city, no fewer than 3 such businesses set up shop within 5 minutes of my house. I view them with conflicting feelings.
Those tree-selling outposts provided some very fond childhood memories; how could they not to young children? There is something magical about walking along paths of towering trees, inhaling that wonderful pine scent, and rescuing cast-off boughs from the snow underfoot. When you’re less than 4 feet tall, it’s like being in the middle of the wilderness. Even though a busy city street is just a short distance away, the noise of cars is sufficiently blanketed by those branches soon to find homes. I’d stare up at the really tall trees, wondering who on earth owned living rooms large enough to accommodate such beauties. My family chose long-needled green trees, which also led me to wonder why anyone would want the shorter needled blue-toned trees. That was the big difference among neighbors in my small Catholic world-what kind of Christmas tree did one buy?
Since we put up our tree just one week before Christmas, it meant that the time was near (unlike today when many trees are fully decorated the day after Macy’s parade). I knew that the next two weeks would consist of watching TV in a room lit only by the multi-colored tree lights, and that every time I’d walk into the house a terrific aroma would wash over me. Having every finger jabbed and pinched while attempting to hang ornaments on our tree was a small price to pay. Losing a few pieces of furniture was also worth it; if I could have had the tree up all year, I would have done so.
Therefore, going out into the cold to find the tree meant that Christmas was almost a reality. The fantasy dissolved as my dad attempted to tie the tree to our car’s roof. It never ceased to amaze me how he could not seem to remember how he did it the year before. We lived no more than 10 minutes away, but you’d think we were traveling across the county for the amount of worrying that took place over the chance the tree would fall off the car. The magic disappeared a bit more as my parents would fight over the best way to get it into the house. I have recollections of tugging and pushing it through both front and back doors, to the tune of yelling and swearing about scratches and scraping the walls. I think the debates over positioning the tree to its best advantage was what caused the fun to disappear completely. It had to be even and full, with no large “gaps”, and of course, should be straight. My dad would get out his yard shears and stop lopping off branches, while there was an endless barrage of complaints from my mom. Finally it came time to decorate it, and by the time we were done, it had all been worth it. Christmas was now official. The chores of daily needle sweeping and watering would come later.
By the time I entered high school, my parents had decided the hassle of a “live” tree was too much, and bought an artificial tabletop model that I despised. It was only about 4 feet tall and looked like a plastic fern. I was embarrassed to let my friends see it. In my opinion, anything fake was bad, and to lose that pine smell was the worst insult. Plus, just how many gifts could fit under such a puny tree?
As life went on, I adjusted to the idea of an artificial tree. When I moved into my own apartment, real trees weren’t allowed, so it was a good thing I liked my little tree. It stayed with me through many years of married life, and even after parenthood and house-ownership. When my daughter was around 4, I thought it would be a nice change to get a real tree, affording her the same magic I experienced as a child. Well, things do look somewhat different when one is a parent. The entire process of picking one out and transporting it home was indeed stressful, and I finally could relate to what my parents endured. On top of that, my daughter was not the least bit interested in the tree. We could have had a silver bush in a corner and it wouldn’t have mattered to her, as long as she received presents on Christmas morn.
Since we are an interfaith household of Judeo/Christian beliefs, I figured it’d be easier to revert back to a good quality artificial tree. I bought one with color-coded branches, but it did look pretty natural. For several years I was apathetic about it, until my view was broadened through a lesson for my daughter.
One of her classes in temple Sunday school focused on the Jewish reverence for nature, and trees in particular. There is even a holiday just for trees in February, the start of Israel’s spring. In all synagogues and temples, there are yearlong opportunities to donate money for a tree to be planted in Israel in someone’s name, as a special remembrance or acknowledgement of a life-cycle event. This emphasis on trees is in honor of them allowing the desert region of Israel to become home, representing continuity and the future. Nothing manmade, or even in nature, can take the place of trees. Once I realized that, the awareness that a perfectly fine tree had been killed so that I could stick cheap plastic baubles on it for two weeks no longer made sense. I had fallen out of love with the “live” Christmas tree, even knowing that tree farmers must make a living too.
Since then, I see fake trees as no less worthy, beautiful or classy than the real thing, and certainly more user-friendly. But the jury’s still out on those pink, blue and upside-down ones,,,
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