A Christmas Tradition

Christmas was coming and we still did not have a Christmas Tree for our living room. It wasn’t that we hadn’t talked about it. In my opinion, we had talked about it too much. However, it was just over two weeks before Christmas and still no decision.

You see, our family voted on everything. We had even drawn my 9 months old sister’s name out of hat, in which everyone in the family got to contribute their suggestion. We even voted every week on our cereal choice at the grocery store. It was 1964 and we were nothing, if not democratic, in our way of solving family dispute. This decision however was spilt right down the middle. Three votes for a cut spruce that we bought from the Kiwanis’ Club every year and three votes for a real tree that could be planted in the yard after Christmas.

Little brothers LB1 and LB2 and I, wanted the Kiwanis tree, and Mom and Dad and our new little sister had voted for the “real tree”. How our little sister got to vote was a question that was on all the boy’s minds. It seems that Dad had come up with the explanation that he had always voted for us when we were too young to do so. Being too young to remember and getting the approval nod from Mom, there was no more discussion on the issue. So here we were, still no tree and Christmas was fast approaching.

My sixteen old imagination was in high gear. If we didn’t have a tree, did that mean we would have no gifts, because we have no where to put them? I didn’t want this to get out of hand and incur my Father’s famous Scottish temper. After all, I had asked for a guitar for Christmas and I didn’t want this to scratch the whole gift idea. There was however, a principal at stake. We had always had a cut tree. When we were younger, we lived in a huge woods on a lake. The weekend, after Thanksgiving, every year was the time that the whole family took a sled and an axe and headed into the woods to pick out our Christmas Tree. The Kiwanis Club lot was as close to that tradition as we could get. The cool part was we all did it together. It was the mid 1960’s and tradition was disappearing daily. I had always been interested in history and I guess I was a budding Traditionalist. I didn’t want to give up the memories.

The decision to make the decision was made. The decision was to be made during Sunday dinner after Church. Sunday arrived and Sunday dinner was served. Somewhere between saying grace and pass the fried chicken, the discussion began. LB1 and I shared the same bedroom and we had honed our argument for the cut tree the night before. Pure and simple, It was Tradition. Having moved to this new house and started a new school the year before, we had left the old neighborhood and a lot of history behind. We were sure we could sway Mom with this argument and all we needed was one vote. I stated our case with as much eloquence as I could muster. I thought I saw Mom tear up during the Tradition part of the argument. I looked at LB1 and he nodded in Mom’s direction. He too thought she was leaning our way. A quick glance at 8 year old LB2 showed he was more interested in mashed potatoes than Christmas trees. Silence ruled the table as all involved considered the issue.

Just as my Dad was about to speak, my Mom interrupted. She put her hand on Dad’s arm and said to him, “Go ahead, tell them”. He took a deep breath and his thoughts on the subject were then issued. “As you all know”, he began. “Your Mother and I very much miss the woods and lake on Acre Drive. So, this year with the birth of your little sister, we thought we would like to start a new tradition. We wanted to plant a live tree in the yard and start something new. Every year we would like to decorate the tree and remember when we started this new tradition, because that would be the year your sister was born.”

A quick look at Mom exposed the tears in her eyes. I didn’t have took look at LB1 for support because I knew how I was going to vote. It was done by a show of hands , fours ayes, a chicken leg in the air from LB2 and a handful of pudding from our little sister. The live tree idea was adopted and plans quickly turned to its acquisition. As it turned out The Kiwanis club sold live trees as well. We bought a 5 foot Spruce and brought it home in the station wagon. A huge galvanized bucket was filled with water and installed in the living room. The tree was lowered into the water and the decorating began. The side benefit of having a live tree was the fragrance that filled the whole house. Mom was extremely happy and our home was finally at peace.

Christmas came and went and the decision as to where to put the tree was put to a family vote. It was unanimous, the front yard, out near the street. All three boys took turns digging the hole, although the shovel was bigger than LB2.

For the next few years my Dad took extra special care of that tree as it began to grow. Every year the family decorated it with lights and ornaments, much to the delight of the neighborhood. It became the back drop for many family pictures during the different holidays and seasons. We still have several pictures of my sister standing next to that spruce tree which was now taller than her.

Our family had moved through other crisis with the curious habit of voting on things, when there was a family disagreement. It was not until I was an adult, with kids of my own, before I realized that voting to solve our disagreements was our own family tradition.

The Christmas of 1964 turned out to be a wonderful Christmas. I got my guitar, my Dad got his tree and the whole family got a new tradition. I drove by the old house the other day and to my surprise, the tree is still there. It’s now taller than the house. I wish my Mom and Dad were still around to see their Family Tradition.