Oh, Christmas Tree
I love telling stories, and this is one of my personal favorites. It's about my dad and the Fake Christmas tree.
My dad, Joseph Walter Parys, Sr., died on November 29, 2005. While many believe their father was one of a kind, I know this to be true about my dad. He was a Classic. Like a classic car, one that is displayed because so few were originally produced. He was a preserved classic car, not restored, because there is nothing quite like the off-the-line, new car smell that remains for years beyond. That was my dad.
I have fond memories, a la A Christmas Story, of going to pick out the Christmas tree at a local tree lot. My mom would bring down the boxes of fragile ornaments stored in the hall closet. Because the tree was prominently displayed in the front window, furniture re-arrangement was required. All of this caused me and my sisters and brother to dance around with excitement, driving both parents into a mix of crazed frenziness inherent with raising small children and the joy of memory making within their family. Good times.
Then came the two or three weeks the tree was up, progressively getting dryer no matter how much water was poured into the tree stand. Pretty soon no one wanted to get near the tree for fear of being prickled with a sharp pine needle. And the day the tree came down, blanketing the already carpeted floor was those pesky needles...well, let's just say, woe to whichever of us was subscripted into clean up duty. Not such Good Times.
It wasn't a surprise that my parents, especially my mom, were early adopters in the artificial tree movement. This succession of Christmas trees, beginning with the aluminum tree lit by a rotating color wheel of celluloid blue, green, yellow and red, were christened Fake Trees. We kids fast fell out of love with the aluminum tree, if I remember correctly. I think one year, maybe two, we had a flocked tree in white.
Next in the Tree Line was what has led to today's standard for Fake Trees: The Artificial Evergreen. These were not pre-lit or permanently lit. You still had to string lights on the tree. Again, if memory serves, both parents were tickled by this development but in particular my dad took substantial pride in purchasing a succession of Fake Trees which he would admire both from outdoors, checking its precise placement in the center of the front room window, and in the front room itself, proclaiming, "Yeah, that looks just like a real tree. Even better. And no mess."
Gradually as happens my parents took less and less interest in decorating for Christmas. One impending holiday they decided to downsize the Fake Tree.
(I believe in some previous post I have mentioned that my father was frugal and in that respect, I am my father's daughter. For the sake of the continuation of the story, this bears repeating,)
My sisters, brother and I were, somewhat naturally, distressed at this turn of events. Did it mean our parents were losing interest in life? Was it confirmation of their aging and, worse yet, their mortality? Who gives up on Christmas??
My dad decided the Fake Tree remained in good shape, so he asked my sisters, brother and I if any of us wanted it. They declined. I said, "Sure!" I had been considering buying a second tree for display in the front room window, since we put up our tree in the family room at the back of the house. I missed coming home and not seeing a tree in our window. And this tree would be free! Sure, I told my dad. I'll take it.
Let's recall here: my parents lived in Chicago. I live in Minnetonka, Minnesota. Getting the tree to me would require a bit of work on my dad's part.
When I returned from work a couple days later, I found two packages on the front porch: oversized black trash bags, wrapped tightly with duct tape. Inside were the two parts of the Fake Tree. A box followed shortly after, containing the tree stand (rusty); the tree skirt (festive teddy bears printed on red felt) and the tree topper, a plastic star imbedded with lights that twinkled.
Every holiday season since then, the Fake Tree holds its place of honor in the front room window. The plastic star bit the dust shortly after it arrived and I was able to find its replacement at a local Walgreens (where I'm certain my parents purchased it in the first place. I remember my dad sitting in his family room, dressed in his boxers and sleeveless t-shirt, smoking and drinking a cup of coffee, rifling through the Walgreens ad, circling things he wanted to buy, ripping out the coupons). That one had a short life span as well and I believe the current tree topper is one that Molly had at her house in Aptos, CA. The adult ornaments go on this tree and it's the one I was emphatically tell the grands, "We just look with our eyes. We don't touch." So far, so good.
This year we have 6 trees in our house. I purchased a new one for the family room since the previous tree needed replacement for at least a decade. It's decorated in a minimalist fashion; mid-century modern Shiney Brite ornaments hang from its branches. The old family room tree is in the basement, festooned with ornaments that the grands can play with, reorganize, etc. Millie and I toured that tree the other night where I pointed out ornaments that had been given to her dad, Voldemort (he who must not be named) and her aunts. Beau immediately discovered the tiny Mickey and Minnie, which he ferried around with him for hours. There's a small tree in what we call the Donald Duck Suite bedroom upstairs (because a cell of Donald Duck hangs on the wall). Another small tree lights up the kitchen and finally, the tree that previously sat on my desk at work is now on my bedroom dresser.
When my mom died, I took possession of the creche that my parents bought for their first Christmas--at least that's the story. In Polish, the creche is called stajnia which we pronounced Sty-yen-ka. The stajnia was lovingly placed center stage directly under the lowest branches of the tree. We were allowed to lie in front of the stajnia and look at it. No touching. Amazing that it survived 66 years!
Cooking:
This Thursday evening, we are hosting a Rotary event which involves food and beverage. Fortuitously, the Trader Joe's Fearless Flyer, Holiday Edition 2017 arrived this past week and that's who's doing the cooking for the Rotarians. We had a lovely, large Thanksgiving filled with multiple meals, and will be hosting our annual Holiday Brunch and Birthday Celebrations (Jackson; Millie; Biddy) on Sunday, as well as Christmas cookie baking and Christmas meals so I'm feeling as if this is one I can off-load to a trip to the store.
Love and joy come to you, and to you good wassail too.
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