One of our readers shared a Christmas memory about getting the family Christmas tree in response to the one I posted last week. Hers was a country Christmas as opposed to my urban one. I am pleased to share this memory piece here today. Her bio follows the story.
My "Shared Memory" of finding our childhood Christmas Tree
By Carolyn S. Desmond
🎄 We kids scoured the nearby fields of the Missouri Ozarks, on foot, in pursuit of our Christmas Tree. Bow saw in hand, my older brothers would take turns either sawing, or holding the prickly branches aside. Once it was felled, two younger brothers and I would follow behind as the two older boys took turns dragging the tree home through the snow and blow. Once back at the house, the youngest of us, another brother and my only sister were in near hysterics as they sited our find. It could mean only one thing. Mama was going to pop corn, so we could make garland for the tree. She'd always make a little too much, and, of course, it would be a sin to let it go to waste. With needles and thread in hand, once the tree was in its battle scared stand, we strung popcorn by the yard so we could drape the tree in white. We'd make the colorful decorations from a rarely acquired newspaper's comic strip section. We would cut the "Funnies" into short strips, then loop them together, affixing their ends with Elmers glue. We did have an tried and true Angel to perch atop our Christmas Joy, and on a really good year, an empty bird nest had survived the trek home and would join in on the festivities. The tree was lit by the glow of fire which filtered through the glass window of the potbellied cast iron stove. Most oftentimes, the Tree was our solitary Gift, to remind us of the Reason for the Season; the birth of Jesus, Christ the Lord. The lovely Green of its pine branches and it's lovely fragrance filled the shack of the house and made it a Winter Wonderland. It was always successful in bringing us together, as a Family. When it was time to remove the tree, on New Year's Day, its resolution was obvious, the Tree vowed to feed the Wild Ones of colorful wing, by the offering of popped corn on a string. It was the Gift which just kept on giving, just like our Savior. Merry Christmas to All. C. S. Desmond
Bio: Twenty-two years ago, at age 42, without further ado, I became determined to attend college. What I discovered during Comp I, II, and, ultimately, Creative Writing, at Wichita State University, was that I possessed an immense fondness for the craft of Creative Non-fiction Writing. Acceptance into Sigma Tau Delta was very humbling. I'd found a niche in which I felt I belonged; finally.
Carolyn S. Desmond
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