The Many Thoughts of Wanda Kidd

I have lived in the North Carolina mountains for fifty years. It is beautiful and Hallmark-worthy. It is the part of the country that provides Christmas trees to much of the rest of the country. Yet the idea of picking out a Christmas tree has always seemed daunting.

Recently, Dan and I drove over to Boone. We rode past tree farm after tree farm, offering the opportunity to cut your own tree. We laughed about the compromise that saved our holidays so many years ago.

When my children were young, the concept of Christmas tree shopping did not sound like fun. My Keystone cop family made going anywhere a challenge. Getting them into a car to go to church on a Sunday morning was not a spiritual event. Believe me, having your mother on a church staff did not reduce the angst at home. (It amazes me that my children attend church at all.) With all of that in mind, going on a Christmas tree hunt was not high on my list of holiday adventures.   

Additionally, consider the expectation that parents must provide lifelong memory-making experiences around the event. This adds a lot of pressure. Pair that with the need for a musical soundtrack, and the outcome is fraught with anxiety.

Regardless of the resistance, we tried. I am not sure if this is true for everyone. However, the number of issues in our family system is magnified in any decision-making process. Pleasing the symmetry-driven person was hard, but dealing with the OCD person adds even more complexity. Then, the two who said they didn’t care threw a wrench in it every time. The first two had walked miles and finally settled on one as a miraculous compromise. Then a slight shake of the head, a shrug, or an eye roll from the non-committals disrupted everything. The whole process was sent back to square one. It did not feel like Christmas joy to me.

We dreaded the Christmas tree selection process every year until the day Dan had an idea. He had several Christmas tree growers as accounting clients, so he asked one of them whether they delivered. “You mean once you have picked it out?” he asked.  “No. I just want you to come up the back driveway and throw one in the yard.” “Really?” the tree grower asked. “Yes, just pick one off the pile and toss it in front of my office.” The farmer just shook his head, but agreed.

And that is how we received a Christmas tree for over ten years. Those guys delivered early. We would come outside about the first week of December with great anticipation. In the yard was a bundled Christmas tree. Unwrapping a fresh tree was thrilling. Discovering what we got that year was one of the joys of Christmas. Some years were better than others for symmetry and shape, but whatever it was, it was perfect. No second-guessing, no blame, just a sweetly scented evergreen reminding us of Christmas songs and memories.