You know what I really miss about the Christmas season? Shopping for a real tree

The favorite tree always looked perfectly full in a barely lighted sales lot on a cold, windy December night.

Get the tree home an hour later and wonder, “What happened? This tree sure looks different.”

I guess we can hide the bare spot against a wall.

I feel sorry for that Little Charlie Brown tree; let’s get it!

A holiday tradition I miss is shopping for a real Christmas tree at a local charity tree lot run by the local church, Kiwanis or Optimist Club.

Shopping for a tree was a childhood tradition in the Mackin household. We skipped a few years when we had a tacky silver tree with the twirling rainbow lights. Mom loved that fake, silver tree which was popular in the 1960s. I think she liked the rainbow, twirling lights, which made me dizzy if I stared at them too long. Dad supported a non-traditional silver tree as long as Mom was happy and he didn’t have to take us three boys to the tree lot by Kroger’s store and listen to us argue and act like we were too cool for a tree lot.

For a few weeks, before the holidays, we’d cram a large Christmas tree in the living room. Packed in a small room with a couch, a few chairs, a wooden stereo cabinet and a TV on the floor that was heavier than a car. We had to suck in our bellies to get in and out of the front door. And we had to be extra careful that we did not knock off ornaments or carry a few strands of silver tinsel from the tree on our clothes to school.

Once it was down, post Christmas, we didn’t haul the real tree to a local recycling lot. There was no recycling lot. We burned the tree in the backyard along with all our trash. The Christmas tree would not fit in the backyard burn barrel. So we burned it in the yard. It was usually dry enough by New Year’s Day that all needles had fallen off. If the tree would not ignite, we give it an extra splash of lighter fluid, gasoline or whatever else was in a can and on the carport floor.

What I remember most about burning trash in a barrel was when an aerosol can was in the barrel. Kaboom! Fireworks every Monday night in The Mackin’s backyard.

More about real tree

Usually, we bought a tree at the lot near Kroger’s store on State Street. Dad knew some of the men volunteering there. They smoked cigars and had a Styrofoam cup of something steaming hot in their hands. It looked like coffee but smelled more like turpentine.

A kind man usually helped us carry the tree to the car and stuff it in the back of our station wagon. We always fit that tree in the back of our station wagon because Dad would not tie it to the roof and scratch the top of up his already-scratched used car.

As we got older, Mom switched back to artificial trees because she was tired of taking us to the tree lot and listen to us argue or stand bored with our hands in our pockets. If we had cell phones in 1967, we would have been on them on Christmas Tree Picking Night. Mom would have threatened to take the phones away or put them where a phone never rang. Mom’s bark was sharper than her bite.

As a dad myself, we used to take our two kids to the Christmas tree lot near the Skyview Drive-in in west Belleville. Mr. Montgomery gave my kids a Tootsie Roll sucker. They looked forward to that Tootsie Roll sucker every December. They could have cared less about the tree.

Eventually switched to artificial trees

I was never good at choosing the right real tree. I always looked at the shape but forgot to examine the trunk. When I got home, I used a handsaw to whittle off the crooked trunk. By the time I was done whittling, the tree was eye-level for me, which is too short for a Christmas tree. But it was easy to place an angel on the top of the tree. No stool needed, thanks.

Eventually, we switched to an artificial tree because the smell of a real tree bothered our allergies. I don’t remember having allergy issues as a kid. Maybe the air was cleaner. Maybe my immune system was tougher. Maybe I didn’t notice because my nose was always running. The sleeve of my sweatshirt was a natural, handy handkerchief.

This year, I am going the easy route with a small artificial tree. Small, simple with lights already intact. Some year, I’ll return to a Christmas tree lot for a real tree. It’s not too late to start a new tradition or rekindle an old one.

This story was originally published December 11, 2022 at 7:00 AM.