I am a Christmas tree. For
seven long winters I stood in the woods, watching wildlife, and hearing
the rains and the storms and the winds. I thought I had led a good life.
But I was cut down: and now I'm a Christmas tree.
Tonight the family
here took more liberties with me than I ever anticipated (but to tell
you the truth I like the result). If my former woodland pals could see
me now they'd think I was set for a masquerade! First the family set me
up in some type of iron tripod contraption that pinched the very sap out
of my veins. It would have been easier to bore a hole in the floor for
me. But I guess that isn't done. I felt ridiculous at first, standing
there like some artificial store-bought tree. But then things began to
Dad came down from
the attic with four huge boxes, each marked "Christmas trim." Mom in the
meantime had spread a sheet under me--to keep my bare stump warm, maybe.
The kids (except for the two little ones, who went to bed at 7:30) tore
at the boxes with screams of delight, setting up little piles of similar
articles; colored balls in one pile, old moth-eaten treasures like silly
animals in another, tinsel icicles in another, strings of lights in
still another. As each of the four boxes was opened, the cocker
spaniel's wet nose slid inside to get a good smell. For her, and
apparently for everybody else, it was wonderful game. Dad wound me
up with the strings of lights, then tested each colored bulb to see why
I didn't light up. Finally I did--and the family all let out oohs and
ahs, and insisted on turning out all the house lights to see how I
looked. I began to feel better.
Then they all
tackled me-- with 207 different pieces of adornment--until the four
boxes were empty, and I was so full I began to protest at the overload.
(They even draped some of their best Christmas cards over me--the effect
was wonderful.) After that came the tinsel icicles. Johnny and Nancy
started throwing these icicles at me--a game which resulted in a stern
cease-and-desist order from Mom.
By this time I
thought I just must be ready ( I didn't know what for). but I wasn't.
Johnny had started to pop some popcorn while Nancy got out some needles
and string. The popcorn went on the strings, which wound up, as
everything else did tonight, around me. Then after they put all light
out except mine, Mom went to the piano and played carols. She played so
softly that the music just seemed to tinkle. Johnny and Nancy started to
sing the words, even Dad hummed along with them. It was nice.
After carols, the
family hung their stocking on the mantle, let the cocker out the front
door for awhile, discussed the chances of Santa's coming, and finally
went to bed. I should have felt lonely but didn't. Even with my lights
off, I could shake my branches a little whenever I felt like it in order
to make the jingle bells, tied on my fingertips, jingle.
Well, just as I was
going to sleep, I heard, high above the roof, the sound of hundreds of
jingle bells. "Holy smokes!" I said to myself, "it's him!" And it was.
In less than a minute a black boot appeared down the chimney, then
another black boot, then red pants and coat, white whiskers, jolly old
face, long tasseled cap---finally the big leather bag. Yep---Santa had
"Hi Mr. Claus!" I
said. He jumped right into the air. "Hi Mr. Claus," I repeated. He
jumped right back into the air again.
"It's me--Jack Pine! Remember
me?" I said. " I used to grow just outside your reindeer barn, east of
the southern end of the North Pole, across from the west berry patch!"
Santa grinned. "Well as I live and breathe--Jack Pine. I'm glad to see
( I wanted to shake hands with him, but was afraid I'd drop one
of the big ornaments, so I just shook my branches and jingled my bells
to show him I was delighted.) "Santa," I said, "What happens now?
Here I am decked out like a Christmas Tree. I see you've got a packful
of presents there for the family...what do I get out of all this?"
The old fellow sat
down and munched on the raisin and chocolate chip cookies the kids had
left for him. Then he looked at me and started to talk quietly. "Jack
Pine," he said, "you're a lucky tree. Tomorrow happens to be Christmas,
and you are going to be the leading character in a drama that will take
place 'most everywhere--wherever there are children, that is. You will
see faith, when the kids come down in the morning to check up on my
having been here. You will see the light of giving surrounding Mom and
Dad (that's a certain all-over-good-feeling people get). You will see an
"atmosphere" settle down on this house and on the people in it--the
atmosphere of Christmas. It's something that makes people glad they have
each other...thankful to be members of their families. Now this
atmosphere is sometimes criticized because it comes to people, the
criticizers say, just once a year. That's not correct. Christmas is the
time when families and memories and customs and love and generosity all
are mixed together in sort of a big Christmas spirit--which simply gets
into people and recharges their systems with freshness and kindness and
understanding for another long year.
"You, Jack Pine,
have seen some of that Christmas spirit earlier this evening. You'll see
more tomorrow. And the reason you're a lucky tree, Jack, is because
you--like myself--are actually a part of that warm, friendly feeling.
Yes, you and I help make the spirit of Christmas. That is why we are
eternal. Our achievements tonight and tomorrow will be remembered by
these children forever." With that Santa went right up the chimney
and into his sleigh. The bells on his prancing reindeer started ringing
again, then vanished in the softest music ever heard.
I relaxed then, and
waited for morning, knowing all the old boy had said was true. I am part
of the wonderful spirit of Christmas. I am a Christmas Tree.
Reader's Digest 1990
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