By Marissa Soto
A few weeks ago, my mom had announced to my siblings and me that we would be making the dreaded switch over from our real Christmas tree to an artificial one. She has said this for many years. But of course, this time she was serious.
I understand the practical reasons for a fake tree. It’s a price investment, and we can get a good deal on it during Black Friday sales. Inflation is killing the financial appeal of a real tree. An artificial tree also doesn’t drop pine needles, doesn’t have random sparse branches or patches because all of the “needles” and “branches” are set perfectly into place. It’s a one time purchase that you can always count on for looking the same every year.
There are obvious reasons that I would like to keep our traditional real Christmas tree. One is that the smell of the pine and fir is unmatched. Another is the homey feel of a real tree in our little apartment that makes me so excited for the Christmas season.
But every year, my mom would pack up my siblings and myself in the car after school one chilly Friday night the first week of December and take us over to the local Home Depot on Newhall Ranch Road. Our small family of four would stroll around the sticky-floored Christmas tree farm, selecting a tree for our mom to unwrap and shake out to examine.
Mom would always bring her own scissors and gloves to ensure we didn’t bother one of the poor Home Depot workers to unravel the many trees we just had to inspect. We’d check for any major imperfections. Was there a proper thick stem on top for our star? Were the branches spread and fluffed just right for our special and handmade ornaments? Was the base a good length for our tree holder?
If the tree passed our tests, Mom would give it one final spin, just to make sure we knew it was the one. After an hour or so of our deep analysis of the different candidates, and much giggling at my mom cutting and unraveling like she worked there herself, we’d always find it. Our tree. It was never the largest tree, never the most expensive one, never the tallest or even most coveted one. But it was one that passed our tests.
After our deliberation and final consensus, we’d all nod our heads and smile. Then, in good mom-fashion, my mom would insist we take a picture. As we celebrated our beloved tree, Mom and my brother Gabe would haul it over to the Home Depot employees for its final touches. A little off the sides, a little off the bottom would do just nicely. As Gabe, my sister Becca and I watched in awe of our chosen new friend get all cleaned up, my mom would pull around the car. The freshened-up tree would then journey through a netting and be retrieved again by another employee for the final step: car mounting.
Our comrade would get hoisted up onto the top of the car, fastened by string and car doors that shut it into place. It was then time for our tree to come home with us.
It is for this reason that having a real tree will always be better than a fake tree. A fake tree can never be specially selected and bring excitement in the way a real tree can. It is not unique like our ghosts of Christmas tree past. An artificial tree cannot create the many memories of walking around the Home Depot parking lot laughing and joking about the amount of trees we’ve unwrapped without employee supervision.
A tree in a box can’t give us the horror (and now fond memory) of almost slipping off of our car roof, having to be held by one hand of each passenger. An industrial grade tree can’t cause us to make friends every year with the teenage and middle-aged Home Depot employees that help us with our tree.
Not to mention the fun we have with our real tree when we get home. Sure, we can decorate and light any type of tree, we can dance to Justin Bieber’s “Little Drummer Boy” in front of any kind of tree just the same. However, we can’t put the same special care and love into our tree every week if it’s plastic and metal. Our real tree tradition carries teeming life within itself that we must pay close attention to maintain. Is that not what Christmas is about? Life? A real Christmas tree is a mere symbol of life, of the life born of our Savior Jesus on Christmas.
Call me a creature of habit. I cannot let things go. Those things are true. But what is also true is that the memories made every year with my family would not and could not ever be the same if we succumb to the materialistic and commercial transformation of our blessed holiday. Let us rejoice around our temporary but special Douglas Fir, and let us not let it die to be replaced by an impostor.
The TMU Mane 