You can tell a lot about a person by their Christmas tree...or trees. For some, it’s precisely this annual tree-decorating spree that defines who they are. We all have boxes of ornaments in the attic, some with great sentimental value, that, when displayed together, create our own personal narrative. It often begins with that audacious, particularly glittery star crafted in second grade and presented to mom who instantly knew. Of course the old traditional ones are fragile. But even if damaged, they are still hung with care. They recall the time the cat dove into the tree in pursuit of a strand of flickering tinsel. Then there was the time your drunken “ex” picked those Waterford crystal collector edition candy canes off the tree and flung them like little hatchets at your current partner. Ah, memories...
Speaking of cats, a friend of mine has two trees. He’s a cat person so one is covered with cat ornaments. The other is majestically arrayed in red. On closer inspection the decorations are all manner of devils. I’m not sure if it’s a statement or simply the fact that if you want variety with red ornaments you go with devils. He’s an obsessive ornament collector. His trees are up year round with rotating holiday themes. Christmas turns into Easter, then Fourth of July and later, Halloween.
One Christmas, years ago, I visited my priest friend in Connecticut. We went up to his rectory suite to catch up. En route, we passed the opened door of his neighbor priest. Tastefully placed for optimal viewer appreciation on just such a walk-by was a massive snowy white tree lit with blue lights, decorated with oversized blue and silver poinsettias. The neighbor priest, by the way, was also a bodybuilder and rode a motorcycle. Suffice it to say, the tree was enough of a hint. And no, I didn’t notice any choirboy candle holders. But yes, he was eventually transferred to a parish in Jersey.
Of course, someone always throws a trim-a-tree party. The idea is everyone brings an ornament that represents them. At some point during the festivities, hopefully after enough Christmas cheer to make it interesting, each guest ceremoniously presents their ornament with a story about its symbolism. Sentimental? Why not—it’s Christmas! Besides, it saves the bother of going out to buy ornaments and spend the time hanging them. Inevitably, there’s always a good gay range from teddy bears to musical instruments, rosy-cheeked tin soldiers, Santas, celebrities (Marilyn, of course), as well as some unique, obscene or otherwise awkward ones. One should consider: If the host really wants an ornament to fondly remember you by, stick with the classics. Yes, one can argue the holiday’s pagan roots, but the tree itself is enough of a message without your artisan-blown glass cactus from Palm Springs.
I grew up with an aluminum tree, before they were nostalgic. Come to find out, they’re made in Wisconsin. Mercifully, my mother thought the color wheel was too undignified.
