The Perfect Tree

By Alice Muschany

Every job has its perks. Car dealers drive new cars. Jewelers drip in diamonds, and beauticians flaunt the latest hairstyles. My husband and I owned a Christmas tree farm, and every year, we claimed the most impressive Scotch pine for the center of our perfect Christmas.

We moved into our new house shortly before the holidays. The following weekend, we rushed to our property. I trudged up and down hillsides until I found a twelve-foot tall, lush Scotch pine with dark branches—perfect for our family room with a vaulted ceiling. My better half wasted no time cutting it down. Back home, he hauled the green giant from the bed of the truck and plopped it on the deck.

I’d planned on waiting a few days before putting the tree up and decorating. But when my teenage daughters spotted it, they quickly offered to put their artistic talents to work. No Martha Stewart, I jumped at their proposition.

The three of us managed to wrestle the gigantic pine into the family room. It took all we had to force the thick trunk into the tree stand. The girls steadied the tree while I scooted underneath the wide branches and began tightening the screws. My eyes teared up from the strong pine scent, and needles scratched my arms while they took their sweet time tilting the tree a smidge to the left or right.

Finally, with their approval, I gave the screws a few extra twists for added measure and slithered out of the pine needle cave. Then we dragged box after box filled with garland and keepsake ornaments upstairs, and my daughters began performing their magic. Hours later, the bejeweled tree looked as perfectly grand as the one on display at the nearby mall.

A few days later, after Christmas shopping, my better half and I walked in the door, and I screamed—it looked like we’d been robbed. The once beautiful tree lay sprawled across the carpet, broken glass sparkling in the brilliant sunlight that beamed through the skylight.

Surveying the devastation, my hubby offered, “Honey, you must not have tightened the screws enough.”

Agreeing, I berated myself for not waiting for him to set up the tree like normal. After we finished picking up the broken ornaments and cleaning up the mess, he raised the unshapely pine off the floor and navigated the trunk into the stand. I struggled to hold the heavy pine in place while he tightened the screws with all his might. When my 6’5” Goliath put a lid back on a jar, even the Incredible Hulk would have trouble opening it.

The girls begrudgingly redecorated, clustering ribbons and bows to hide the bare spots and see-through holes left by missing branches. Minus more than a few shiny ornaments, the damaged tree wasn’t nearly as impressive.

Christmas Eve morning, we woke to a loud crash, and it wasn’t Santa coming down the chimney. The behemoth pine had toppled over, this time knocking a picture frame from the mantle and breaking off the treetop before crashlanding on the hearth. Once again, smashed ornaments lay scattered across the carpet, along with pine needles and broken branches.

Turns out it wasn’t my wimpy arm after all. The screws had been stripped from years of wear and tear. This time, there was no salvaging of the once magnificent Scotch pine. No sooner than I’d finished removing the remaining ornaments, my hubby hoisted the tree out the back door and heaved it over the side of the deck, garland and all.

With relatives due to arrive in just a few short hours and dinner to prepare, there was no time to get a replacement. Rushing to the basement, I pulled a wimpy three-foot silver aluminum relic from the ‘60s out of storage and plopped it on an end table. No twinkling lights. No shiny baubles or globes. No fancy garland.

Naturally, my tree farmer took quite a bit of ribbing. Guests compared our situation to the shoemaker’s children who went barefoot.

 Our makeshift Charlie Brown replica was all but forgotten as we conducted our usual holiday traditions. A delicious meal was devoured, presents were opened, and fun board games kept everyone in stitches.

Once again, our family celebrated another perfect Christmas.