Normally this time of year brings good tidings of great joy. Tonight, however, was filled with dreadful tidings of great woe.
In years past erecting the Christmas tree was a jolly time, a satisfying time, a simple time. I would cut an inch off the bottom of the trunk, place the tree into a properly sized stand, make a few tweaks and voila! a symbol of the holidays ready to be decorated.
This year was not such a year.
With the intention of quick, straight forward setup we'd follow the model of years past (see paragraph 2). My father's insistence on using the stand that had a single metal post in the middle was an ominous foreshadow. OK, I thought, let's give it a try. So we started with the normal procedure; cut off one inch from the bottom to allow for renewed turgor. This is where things really took a turn for the worse. The saw - aged 15 years - was as sharp as the keys in my pocket. After a few minutes and only half an inch of depth I went on the prowl for a larger and sharper saw. No where to be found. Then my dad said something about a saber saw. I think about it for a minute wondering where he's been hiding a saber saw all these years.
"What's a saber saw," I ask him probing to find out what a saber saw is in his vernacular.
"It's that saw in the bag there on that second shelf," he said pointing to a handsome canvas bag containing a reciprocating saw my brother and I gave him for Christmas last year.
"Oh, you mean the Sawzall," I said, somewhat surprised that this was his idea of a saber saw. Bless his heart.
Okay, now we're getting somewhere. It's atypical for my dad to recommend a power tool when a good hour of massaging a saw through a solid tree trunk will do. Let's give it a try! I pulled out the saw and looked in the canvas bag for a blade. Metal saw blade, no good. Ah, there it is, wood cutting blade - a four inch wood cutting blade. Hmm, the trunk is six inches in diameter. This will take some creative cutting. I set the blade in the shallow cut I started earlier and pull the trigger. At first it cut well. Then it's shortness and dullness began to win. The moist wood clogged the blade and it was difficult cutting only a portion of the trunk. After a few rotations of the tree to make a cut all the way around I finally had separation. It was by no means a pretty cut. Multifaceted, yes. Pretty, no.
After this small feat we carried it into the house (oh, did I mention we're doing all this in sub-freezing temperatures with a good stiff breeze). We swung the front door open and dragged the tree through the doorway casting needles in our wake. I took the tree and my dad maneuvered the tree stand guiding the hole in the trunk over the spike in the stand. It slid in easily. As I started to let go I noticed it began leaning to one side. At first I was afraid it was going to tip over but gently I let go and it stayed "upright." We stepped back taking in the spectacle. It must have been tilted a good 20 degrees to the starboard. Maybe a little twisting and rocking will set her straight. Nope.
"I think the hole was drilled crooked. I never have trusted those hasty tree lot drillings, they never work," I said with condescending glee, happy to take any jab at that stupid tree stand's inherent flaw.
"Maybe we should drill another one," my dad said trying to stand up for his little friend.
"Do we even have a drill bit big enough?"
"Ya, I bought some new ones a few days ago."
In the garage I spotted the new spade style drill bits. These actually look pretty sharp compared to the discount-bin bits he usually buys. We grabbed a three quarter inch bit and headed inside. The new hole will have to be close to the edge of the trunk since the "factory" hole was right in the center. So I planted the point into the wet wood and begin to drill. I could hear that satisfying cutting sound indicative of a brand new quality drill bit. It felt good. I made the hole about four inches deep.
We lifted the tree back up and slid it down over the metal post. Fits great! As we let go of the tree it began to list to the side as bad as it did before. In my disgust I force it to one side when I heard a heart sinking snap! Did I just bust through the trunk? Did I break the stand (oh please, oh please)? My dad checked for damage but finding none we both stood back and beheld our poor little leaning Christmas tree.
"We need a wedge or something," I declared with heady optimism in my voice.
"To put under the stand?" My dad asked.
"No, to wedge under the trunk," I said in an effort to keep all modifications hidden from view.
"Do you want a cedar or redwood one?" True to his make-all-projects-last-the-eternities credo.
"I don't care, it's only got to last a couple of weeks," I said as I twirl the tree hoping it will right itself.
Moments later he walked in with the mangled piece of trunk we cut off earlier. At first I was upset with his choice but then I noticed the multiple facets the undersized "saber saw" blade had made. I bet I could wedge this in. AND it's tree trunk so it should last, no problem. If only this were the case. After futzing, twirling, wedging and still more twirling the tree stood no better.
Fine, I'll go to the garage and find something myself. By this time I was starting to wonder why the food hadn't kicked in yet. Out in the garage I sifted through piles of sundry scraps and fragments of boards. Nothing was really calling out to me. So I gathered a few thin pieces of wood thinking I could mix and match a few scraps together to prop up the tree. All the while my dad was looking for cedar or redwood to cut on the table saw to make a proper wedge. I tell him what I found would work. Back into the warmth of the house; at least there was this to look forward to.
This time I yanked the tree all the way out of the stand and placed the scraps where the side of the tree trunk would angle up. We guided the tree back onto the stand. A twirl here, a twirl there and it's... standing a little more vertically. Then, in desperation I asked for a 2X4. My dad knew exactly what I was thinking. He returned from the garage with a couple of boards to stick under the stand itself. Getting closer but still no cigar.
"Let's throw this out by the street and get a new one," my dad said, in an uncharacteristically wasteful way.
"Really? We can't make this one work?"
"It's not worth it. Even if we did get it to stand straight as soon as we start decorating it it will start to lean again or the kids will knock it over," he said with conviction.
"What if we got some braces or something to prop it up with? We can hide it behind the branches or something," I said in a futile attempt far one last "Mickey Mouse" fix.
"No let's just get a new one. We'll take my car since I've already got rope in it from carrying this tree."
Somewhere inside me I could tell he was dissatisfied with this tree from the get go. It wasn't the tilt and the unending frustration trying to make it plumb. I could tell there was something else.
So as is usual for an anger project we found ourselves at The Home Depot. We quickly walked through the picked over stands of trees. Some were too small, some were too big, some looked like they fell off one truck and were picked up by the next. It wasn't looking too promising. Our mission was to find one about six or seven feet tall, plumb, and evenly foliated. Few trees fulfilled even just two of the requirements. So with our heads hanging down we walked to the car to drive to the next tree lot. But, as we drove past the main entrance I noticed three lovely display trees in all of their evenly foliated, plumb and six to seven foot glory!
"Do you think they'll sell us one of these really nice ones?" I asked assuming my dad wouldn't want to put anyone out by taking their "nice" ones.
"This one looks nice," he said while looking back at the garden center where one of the clerks was cleaning up for the night.
"I'll go pay for it," he said, already walking away.
So there I stood, with our car parked in the fire lane [an absolute pet peeve of mine when people park there]. I tried to look nonchalant, like I had no part of the rudely parked white Subaru. As I walked around looking at wreaths with phony interest the garden center guy (let's call him Arthur) came rumbling up with a cart to put the tree on.
"This sure is a nice one," I said in a vain and round-about compliment to Arthur.
"Yep," he grunted as he tipped the tree over to remove the very thoughtfully placed tree stand.
I could tell that they didn't really plan on selling this any time soon. I wonder what my dad said to make him to drag a cart all the way to the other end of the store, remove the stand he himself probably put on and then make him put a whole new tree back to fill the gap. Oh well, at least we were getting a really nice tree.
Back at the other end of the store we hefted it up on top of the Subaru. Instantly Arthur told us it's too "puffy."
"Let me take it back and wrap it for ya," he said in a half friendly, half just let me go home for the night, tone.
"Alright," I said, half curious to see how exactly he was going to wrap a tree - especially since he wanted to end his shift and we were the only customers around.
He wheeled the cart to a table created from built-up pallets. On top of table was bolted a tree wrapping device. The device was basically a large ring about two or three feet in diameter and about 8 inches wide. Loaded onto this ring was a big fishnet sausage casing-like material. He took the tree and inserted it into the ring. Then he tied a knot in the fishnet and pulled the tree all the way through the ring, all the while the fishnet was encasing the tree. At the end he cut the net and tied another knot. It left us with a nice neat Christmas tree bundle.
We put the neat little bundle on top of the car. As my dad began to search for the rope in the car Arthur produced about 30 feet of twine quite miraculously. I'm still not quite sure where he got it from so quickly. He tied a good sturdy double overhand knot on one end of the car rack. Then, with a rather flamboyant motion, he tossed the other end over the tree where my dad was at the ready to tie the twine to the rack. In typical bamboozling fashion he began to create a finely crafted knot complete with friction modifiers, half hitches and some techniques I never knew existed. Meanwhile Arthur stood fidgeting, just wanting to get the damn tree tied down so he could leave. Finally my dad finished his masterwork and he tossed the end of the rope back over the car so it could be tied again. He's nothing if not thorough.
"How far do you have to go?" Our Home Depot ambassador asked half hoping we'd tell him only a couple miles. This way he can tie his last knot in haste.
"Only a couple miles. Four or five, tops," I said, trying to make him feel better.
"Ya, this will work," he said reassuringly.
"Great! Thanks for your help!" I cheerfully exclaim.
"Merry Christmas!" Arthur said as he walked away.
My dad and I got back into the car and drove away. I feel a wave of relief wash over me as I realize this tree is the one. It's got great foliage, it looks plumb, and the trunk is narrow enough to fit into a proper Christmas tree stand - the kind with the clamps you screw onto the trunk to hold it upright.
"This tree looks much better anyway. I've never really liked those thick bushy ones your mom always wants," my dad said, with an ever so slight tinge of vengeance in his voice.
That's it! That's why he gave up relatively easily with the other tree. He had it in for that poor little tree from the beginning. I could sense his satisfaction for ending up with the tree HE wanted. I was proud of him. The only thing left was explaining the fiasco to my mother. Oh well, that too will sort itself out.
When we pulled into the driveway the glee coming from my dad was almost palpable. As he reached for the knots to undo them I reached for a razor blade. Within moments the tree was free. We carried it to the front porch and set it down. Then I walked inside and yanked the old, heavy and disagreeable tree from the stand and carried it outside. I threw it to the ground and wiped my hands. I then removed the fishnet cover from the new tree. The tree stand went on perfectly. We carried our prize inside and placed it in the corner of the room.
"Perfect! Look at that, it's perfectly straight, first try!" I proclaim to a smiling father.
"Dear, come look at this," my dad called to my mom. He beamed, standing transfixed as he waited for her to come in.
"That looks nice. I don't know why you couldn't get the other one to work," she said, half pleased and half disappointed.
"It wasn't worth it," my dad said without missing a beat.
"Well maybe we can give the old tree to someone in the ward who needs it," my mom said, surprising me that she seemed OK with the new arrangement. "Or we can put it outside and put lights on it."
That sounded like a good idea to me.
So after about two hours of holiday heartache we had a perfectly plumb Christmas tree in our living room. We also had crooked and heavy tree sitting on the front porch where it has remained, untouched, for the past 3 days.
Merry Christmas!
