VALENTINES
Artificial Christmas trees were never an acceptable way of celebrating the holiday season for my family, my extended family, our neighbors or anyone we knew living north of the Mason-Dixon line. For anyone in my family it was a pledge made from birth along with never questioning the existence of Santa that our Christmas tree would always be real. The smell of pine was essential to completing the Christmas experience.
It could be Blue Spruce, Scotch Pine, Fraser Fir, short needle, long needle or on the wild side flocked. Once erected and decorated it required daily attention keeping the water level at a sustainable level making sure the tree lasted as long as possible. You took care of your tree. Each morning you woke to the olfactory cues that indeed Christmas was still on its way.
The smell was as essential to the holidays as the smell of peppermint bark or fresh baked cookies. Dressed in sparkling white lights and dangling glass ornaments our tree was always the most significant decoration for the holiday dominating the living room its branches stretching from what looked like wall to wall through the eyes of my siblings and mine.
The conundrum with a real tree ultimately comes once the holiday has ended and the death of that particular year's tree. There were various timetable rituals for disposal dictating when the tree was to come down. Those who might have put theirs up early or had had their fill of the holiday could take their tree down as soon as the 26th. These people were usually in the minority. The majority of Wisconsinites left their trees up through the New Year's holiday reluctantly dismantling their trees even though by this time most of the tree's needles were now embedded in the rugs. There still remained one more small group, a tiny group who continued to leave their tree up beyond the customarily acceptable few days after New Years.. They either lived with a floor covered in sap and needles or their trees were fake with plastic needles and built in lights. God forbid.
You can only imagine what a shock it was to me to discover that the bulk of aluminum Christmas trees so popular in the nineteen fifties and sixties were primarily made at the Aluminum Specialty Company in Manitowoc, Wisconsin, but were only minimally sold in Wisconsin as if they were contraband items. I'm assuming they were mostly exported to outside the state. The people who had gone faux Christmas were normally shunned and a great deal of talk happened behind their backs
This year, I fear we've generated a great deal of talk as well. We went artificial, and yes, it's Valentine's and our glorious artificial tree is still up. The blame for this is not going to fall on me. I've tried to get help taking the tree down on the acceptable dates around New Years but a pleading partner and daughter weren't going to hear of it. I think it was their need to hold on to something that represented joy when there was so little of it around. I kept hearing one more week until the one more week ran out and the plea turned to let's keep it up until the end of January. When the end of January passed I put my foot down and demanded that the first week in February was the date we all would have to live with and the tree would need to come down. I thought I had won out. The tree was made of straw and could easily be disassembled and packed back into a box. With an artificial tree I'd avoid the ultimate humiliation of having to drag a needle bare Charlie Brown tree out to the curbside to the ridicule of all our neighbors and anyone else who might pass by.
Our street is on a bus route compounding the amount of strange eyes that would have been witness to my shame. The dread of some neighbor, family member or Jehovah Witness showing up at our door was a constant concern. I really didn't want to be exposed as Christmas tree slacker.
The first Saturday in February arrived. Emmy had been enlisted to help me retrieve the storage boxes for the tree and our ornaments. As I called down to her to come help, I heard Rick wail "Wait! You can't take the tree down. I've got a surprise!". I couldn't believe my plan was going to be foiled again. Emmy was relieved and Rick was delighted. The two of them not having been born in Wisconsin and therefore still considered transplants do not know the significance of their transgression. I waited in fear.
It was mid-afternoon when the UPS truck pulled up and delivered a small package.
Our fake tree is a beautiful straw color and to Rick's specifications had been decorated in shades of copper and rose gold with strands of strung vintage buttons and blush rose gold ribbons gracefully draping its circumference.
With a bit of pomp and ceremony Rick gathered all of us including the dogs around the tree and sliced open the Amazon box. Inside he pulled out four dozed rose gold heart ornaments and declared we now have a Valentine tree so it could remain at least another two weeks until the holiday has finally passed. What was I to do?
I would appreciated it if any of you have found and then get the idea to tell Rick you've located a sale on President's Day ornaments, please keep the information to yourselves. I'm in fear of this tree never being put away as decorations for May Day, The Fourth of July, National Pizza Day, The Annual Corn Festival Week might all become excuses for redecorating the tree with a new set of Amazon purchased rose gold ornaments American eagles, scary pumpkins, pepperoni pizzas or god forbid little Trumps.
THE GALLERY
A Christmas Tree in a Living Room in Levittown, Long Island, 1962 Diane Arbus, photographer Represented by Fraenkel Gallery
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