DECEMBER 15, 2008 2:36PM
Rate: 3
the tree is wider than the boy is tall
long live Santa
(* formerly an uninspired title. can you say too much holiday cheer?)
There is a law, an unwritten law that says any tree you cut in the Christmas tree forest that looks perfectly sized among its fellow trees, will be blindingly bigger than your entire house once you get it home.The tree was about 13 feet tall and plenty wide. In the corner, well, half of the narrow, undersized living room, it looked like the forest was moving in and we were moving out. Most of the furniture was relocated to make room for the giant fir.
After struggling to get it upright and mostly straight, the next step was to string the lights. Three times we had to return to the store to get more lights because that is how badly we underestimated how enormous the tree really was. Finally lit, it illuminated the entire room, the dining room, and halfway up the stairs.
Although we had accumulated several decades of decorations, the tree was just too big and swallowed them all. New ornaments had to be purchased. We used boxes and boxes of glass balls that we bought at Target. Just when we thought we’d bought enough, we would have to run back and buy more. In the end we bought ten boxes just to fill in the tree.
Altogether we were in Target no less than 6 times in one day. I bet we had security people following us around after the second visit. Either that or they were laughing at us and saving the security film for American’s Funniest Idiots.
And the best part of all was the remote control. No one, but a tiny mouse-elf could get behind the tree to switch on the lights, so we purchased a very tiny remote control in order to turn the lights on and off easily. This simple little gadget of necessity turned out to be the $12 item that made that Christmas the most memorable holiday for all of us. Ever.
Once the tree was finished, and the rest of the house decorated with boughs of pine, ribbon and candles it looked like a winter wonderland. Since this is California, the winter wonderland was merely in my head. But it smelled like what Christmas ought to. Or at least, what I had always imagined.
For a girl of the menorah tribe, who only had a Christmas tree after she married into a family that celebrated the holiday, this particular Christmas house was as close to every fantasy she had growing up. The fantasy included the arrival of small children, the two grandsons, to gather round giant tree.
When the little 4 and 6 year old boys came stomping up the drive and into the house with all the chaos that little boys possess, we were ready for them. They ran into the house after their long drive and were struck speechless. They could barely see to the top. For each boy, about four feet tall and a few inches with shoes on, 13 feet is a long long way up. They could hardly believe their eyes, or their noses. Just the smell of a tree that big in a house this small fools your brain into thinking you are in a forest. They were mesmerized and borderline scared to death all at the same time. A forest in the house kind of threw them off their game. After all, the only Christmas trees they knew came in a box with wired limbs.
The lights on the tree were off. They knew enough to know that Christmas trees usually had lights. Puzzled, they examined the monstrosity and asked about the lights. At least the little one did. The older one was still standing with his mouth open.
This is where underestimating a geek is never ever a good idea. Geeks may look like they only understand slide-rule language, but they have vivid and oddly creative imaginations. And some can apparently act. Like The Geek. Things you learn after 432 years of marriage are astounding.
The Geek had the little remote in his pocket. He had a look of distress on his face and I swear to you that he seemed like he might burst into tears any second. Now my mouth was hanging open. Here’s how it went:
Geek (in his best Mr. Roger’s voice). “Oh my. Oh oh. I came in here and the tree’s lights were off. The tree said that it was sad. Just very very sad. ”
Now his head was bowed and moving sadly from side to side and I swear I saw a little tear.
The boys were staring at him. Then at the tree. They had never seen their Grandpa cry before. Now they were a little bit worried. I didn’t blame them. The Geek was going to win an Emmy, but for Pete’s sake, it’s Christmas. Just as I was about to open my mouth he started in again.
Turning to the boys, looking as pathetic as he could muster. “The tree told me a big secret. It said that it loved all the birds singing in the forest and now it missed all its friends. The tree said that it couldn’t possibly light up when it is so very sad. But if maybe someone sang to it, the tree just might light up. The tree said it liked Christmas songs the best.”
The boys’ parents and I all exchanged looks like the kind you exchange when you think someone might need to call a doctor for a special special prescription.
Then the littlest boy spoke up. “I know a song! We learned it in school. I can sing it!”
The older boy gave him a brotherly look that spoke volumes. Like wait till I get you alone, you jerk. But he sighed instead of speaking. And then chimed in. “Me too. I guess.”
The Geek, looking happier, asked them to sing and sing loudly. After looking around to make sure we were still the only ones in the room, the two boys started singing Jingle Bells. Loudly, and out of tune with most of the words their own invention. Nonetheless they were singing. To the tree. They paid us no attention, but truly and magically sang to the giant tree. And in the middle of the last verse, The Geek with his hands still in his pocket hit the remote and the lights snapped on. We were lucky they didn’t fall into the tree with all the jumping and clapping they were doing. Masters of the universe, these two little boys. They made the tree light up with the sound of song.
That was pure and simple. Magic. We had two believers in our midst. And throughout that holiday, the tree was only magically lit after they bellowed away with their very own version of Christmas songs. At the tree. Always at the tree. And each time, the tree would light up in delight. By the time they went home, they were hugging the branches goodbye like they were leaving a friend.
To this day, those boys still believe. The oldest is 10 now and he still believes that his grandparent’s holiday trees are always magical.
The best $12 we ever spent. The best holiday ever, brought to us by small children, a giant tree, and one inventive Geek.
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Comments
Such a warm story! Seeing that tree light up after they've sung to it is a memory that those boys will have the rest of their lives. Be sure to give the geek a hug, even though this happened some years ago. He still deserves it for making such a magical Christmas for two little boys.
I'm just going to have to be resigned to being teary all day with the Christmas posts going up. This was beautiful.
Thanks Lisa and hyblaean. They actually still believe. That is the best part. Those boys are the magic.
They both do still believe, and it is going to be very hard when they realize that all is not what it seems. Nice description of what the boys saw and believe....They love the geek, so they would belive anything he said!
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