Joe pulled the new Chevy station wagon into the church Christmas tree lot. His kids, two girls and a boy bounced happily in the back seat as the wagon rolled over the bumpy field next to the church. The church was dark and quiet compared to the festive tree lot. Poles strung with lights supported a large selection of trees. Christmas music filled the air from a boom box next to the cash only payment stand. Joe smiled over at his wife Sue. The annual trip to the tree lot marked the beginning of the holiday season.
“What do you say we get a small tree this year? Maybe just a little taller than Jim? So much easier, less needles in the carpet?” Joe teased as he pulled the wagon into a parking spot.
“No, daddy,” the kids said in unison.
“You said we could get an extra big tree because now we have a station wagon with a rack thing.” added Cathy.
“Luggage rack, or for tonight, tree rack” Joe said, chuckling, “Okay, we’ll see if we can find one that fills that new rack.”
Joe took hold of Cathy’s mitten, while Sue got hold of Linda, Jim being oldest lead the way. It was cold, but there was no snow. A bright moon was just visible through a thick haze. They wandered up and down the rows of scotch pines, the go to Christmas tree of the 1970’s. Stopping here and there Joe pulled out a tree, looked it over and showed it to the kids.
“Too short,” they agreed at the first tree.
The second tree was, “Too fat.”
“Oh Joe, that one is very crooked,” Sue said of the fifth tree.
After the one that was too tall and the one that had a big bare spot, Joe said, “Well, maybe we should go to Sears and pick out an artificial tree. I’ve heard they look almost real. Maybe we could get a white one with a fancy spot light like grandma and grandpa’s tree.”
“No, daddy” shouted the girls.
The next tree he held up didn’t get a sudden turn down, in fact, it was a pretty nice tree and it was getting colder. They still had to get the thing in the house and decorate it. Joe spun it around quickly. He asked Sue, “Is it straight?”
Sue eyed the tree and said, “Yes!”
“What do you think?” he asked the kids.
“It’s perfect!” they agreed.
They paid for the tree, Joe with the help of a lot worker tied the tree to the tree rack on the station wagon and they headed home.
Once home, Sue and the girls went in to get ready to decorate. Joe and Jim took the tree off the car and prepared to make a fresh cut in the trunk.
“Do you smell that?” Joe asked Jim.
Jim sniffed, crinkled his nose and said, “Yeah, smells bad.”
“Smells like dog poop.” Joe said. “We must have stepped in some at the lot.” He looked at the soles of his shoes. No poop there. “Let me see your shoes.” Jim lifted each foot in turn. “Not there.” Joe raised his impressive nose in the air and sniffed long and hard. “It’s definitely dog poop.” He looked at the girls and Sue’s boots by the door to the house, all clean. He sniffed again; he walked around the garage, his nose in the air, Jim looking on. “It’s strongest by the tree,” Joe said and be began to examine the tree. There, a quarter way up the tree, stuck in the long needles was a rather large lump of what was without question, dog poo.
“God da…” Joe started. He noticed Jim’s wide eyes staring at him and continued, “Let’s go see what your mother says we should do.”
“Where’s the tree?” Sue asked when they walked into the kitchen.
“Well, there’s a small problem…” Joe started cautiously.
“It has dog poop on it!” Jim finished.
The girls looked at them stricken, and after a long moment, Linda stomped her foot and said, “Why did God sell us a poopy tree?”
Joe looked at her confused. What in the world did God have to do with it? Then it dawned on him. They got the tree at the church, so obviously, at least to a six year old, God had something to do with it. Joe chuckled and said softly, “Hell if I know.”
“Joe!” Sue scolded halfheartedly. She continued hesitantly, “Well, can we still use it?”
“I supposed I can wash it off with the hose and maybe throw a little cleaner on it. Should be fine.” Joe said, not looking forward to the task.
Sue gathered a bucket, a bottle of Pine-Sol and handed them to Joe with a frown. Joe looked at the bottle, pointed to the name and said to the still concerned and disgusted looking kids, “See, it’s Pine-Sol. Just what we need.”
Joe could see the kids’ faces in the window as he washed and splashed the tree with Pine-Sol. When he and his nose were satisfied that the tree was clean, he made a fresh cut in the trunk and pushed it through the front door into the living room. After the customary debate over which side was the best side, and much twisting of the three hand screws on the red and green tree stand, the tree was straight and ready to decorate. They added lights and an assortment of glass, school made and Hallmark ornaments.
Joe sat down with a scotch and watched as the kids applied a good supply of tinsel. It was a new kind of tinsel. No longer heavy aluminum, this tinsel was some type of composite or plastic – soon the kids had it clinging to their flannel pajamas. The family soon discovered that the tinsel had a nasty habit of jumping off the tree and attaching to anyone who walked to close. So with a Scotch Pine (-Sol) Christmas tree and tinsel everywhere, they enjoyed a very Merry Christmas.
One year later…
Joe was up early, getting ready for work. He looked out into the backyard, the wind was blowing hard. He wondered if they’d be able to get a tree tonight. The weatherman was calling for a cold rain by afternoon. He sighed, the kids will be disappointed.
Something in the dim morning light caught his eye. What is that? He thought. A large dark lump was moving in the wind. It was caught up in the polls of the swing set. Joe squinted.
It’s a tree, a Christmas tree? Joe thought. He slipped on some boots and went to investigate. Sure enough, it was a Christmas tree. Joe looked it over – straight, check, full but not fat, check, tall, but not too tall, check. A perfect Christmas tree. Joe looked out into the field behind the house and remembered the tree lot over on Hoover Road. This perfect tree must have escaped from the lot and blown into his yard.
Maybe the Gods were making amends for selling him a poopy tree last year. Joe smiled, waved a thank you to the sky and lugged the tree into the garage.
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