If you missed the first part of this series,
go to The Spirit of Christmas – Part 1

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
Long ago and far away, even before the days of Watchfire Music, I was a child growing up on a little street in a little Mid-western town, born in the USA.  Like many of you, life was sweet and simple, filled with promise and, especially at this time of year, touched with the expectancies of Christmas.

Each year the build-up to that day of days was filled with many different elements: the buying of presents, the making of a list for Santa of childish dreams, the preparation of our house for the Holiday season, and, of course, the buying and decoration of the Christmas tree.

For this last hallowed event we had the perfect living room – two-story cathedral-like ceiling with exposed oaken beams and large stone fireplace.  Each year, right around the first Saturday in December – remember that until only a few years ago, the world politely waited until after Thanksgiving to launch into Christmas (now once Halloween comes, along comes Christmas).  Next year, I hear they’re planning to start it right after the 4th of July.

Anyway… first Saturday of each December our whole family would pile into the car and spend the afternoon braving the cold and going through the expectant, but exasperating process of finding the perfect tree.  We needed a 12 footer according to my Dad – not 6 inches more or less.  And it had to be the perfect shape.  So he went armed with a tape measure just to make sure.

Hours after we started and had trekked from lot to lot looking for that perfect tree, we had it tied to the roof of the car and were cold and exhausted, but knowing we were on our way to home, hot chocolate and marshmallows.

When it came to Christmas trees. Dad had some rules – boy did he ever!  Once the tree was up on its standard in the living room, before any decorations were put on it, it had to stand and “open up” for 36 hours.  Not 35, but 36.  At that point Dad only would put on the lights.  We all had to be there in the room with him while he put them on (of course we would never miss this) and we each, my mom, my older brother Jim, and I, had our jobs.

My mom would unpack the lights, Jim would unwrap them and stretch them out from their long summer’s nap, and I proudly had the best job – I got to, once Jim had them stretched out across the floor, plug them in and test them.  Half the time they would not go on and we would have to locate and replace the ‘dead’ bulb.  Then, as if by magic, the string would light up and Dad could then apply them to the tree.  But he would only do so with the lights off, not on.

Once the lights were on the tree and Dad was satisfied with his artistry, Jim and I would run around the house, turn off all the lights and rush back into the now darkened living room.  There, Mom had the enviable task of plugging in the extension cord and, wonder of all wonders, the tree would go bonkers, lighting our living room with Christmas spirit amid ooos and aaahs of our little family.

Then (Dad’s rule) we would be finished for the night.  The lights would go off and the decorating would be done for the night.  Also any further work on Dad’s part besides ‘head supervisor’ would also be done.  From then on, he would not lift a finger.  The rest of the decorations were our responsibility.  His job then was to sit back in his chair and direct the ‘workers’ in his vision.

But first the tree had to stand and “relax” for 24 hours.  Dad’s rule.  He might make an adjustment or two to the lights, probably late at night when we were all fast asleep while sugar-plums danced…

Next came the ornaments.  Oh what a thrill when those old, tired and worn out boxes did appear.  Mom’s job was, of course, to take each one out of its box and out of its careful wrappings.  Jim and I would stand with baited breath, hook in hand, eyes wide as each cherished ornament would appear and with Dad’s careful guidance, Jim on the ladder, me on the floor, the ornaments would be placed perfectly on the tree.  BTW, the tree lights would always be off during this process.

With a 12 foot tree and Dad’s meticulous eye, this process could take two nights.  When Dad deemed it finished and we all walked around the tree and checked the balances of color and size and shape and variation, I would rush out of the room and prepare my excited imagination to enter the living room expecting nothing.  As I would turn the corner into the room, there it would stand, in all its half decorated glory.  All would gasp for me as I entered the room and saw it for the first time.  I would need to do this 4-5 times as my family went through the gasping process with me.

Then came the second moment of splendor.  Jim and I would stand before the tree and Mom would plug in the tree lights and wonder of all wonders, the lights AND the ornaments would be revealed in all their glory.  More gasps, more ooos and aaahs – more directions of adjustment from the master-builder, Dad, until the tree stood in its perfection before us.

Hot chocolate and cookies would be served around the tree with its lights on, but we would all know that the real excruciating job was yet to come.  What, you may wonder, could that possibly be?  What more could turn perfection to a more perfect perfection?  How could this be possible?  And the answer is…

The tinsel.

Oh my Gawd, the tinsel.  Back in those days, the tinsel was really tinsel – it was heavy and metallic, come to think of it, probably made of tin.  It had properties far beyond today’s plastic fluff.  It had weight; and as it hung on the tree, it weighted down the branch in the most delicate and graceful of ways.

Dad’s biggest rule.  There was only one way to tinsel a tree – one tinsel at a time.  The tinseling of our tree took a week, working night after night.  Each of us would be assigned a branch.  You would start from the inside, the depths of the tree and work your way out.  To properly tinsel a branch one must delicately place one piece of tinsel after another ½ inch apart covering the entire branch.  Do not touch an ornament with the tinsel.  Do not hang tinsel on an ornament or on a light wire or light – only ½ inches apart.  All Dad’s rules.

It was demanding, meticulous work, but oh so worth it.  After days and nights of work, and the final placement of the spire, the finishing touch, to the top of the tree, we would all stand back and awe and gasp and ooo and aaah once again as the lights would go on and reveal the new and glorious member of the Link family.  Even our dog, Rusty, would get excited.  Christmas music would be played.  Apple cider and Hello Dolly cookies would be served, and Christmas would have truly arrived.

One Christmas, Mom and Jim made popcorn garlands and rope in the Cub Scouts and hung them on the tree before Dad got home from work.  They came off the tree the next morning.  Too cheesy for our tree.

Once when we were at a neighbor’s Christmas party, they requested their guests to each take part in decorating their tree.  Each person was given an ornament to put on and then tinsel was passed out.  Everyone in joyous delight began to THROW the tinsel up on the tree.  Dad had to leave the party early.  He just couldn’t take it.  We talked about it for many years after with great disgust – the night the Throckmortons THREW tinsel on their tree.

Once the tree was finished and turned on, the lights did not get turned off.  They stayed on morning, noon and night and reminded us in each passing of the tree of the spirit of Christmas and the joys of our family.

Looking back, some of Dad’s rules seem extreme compared to today’s mad rush through it all, but as a family, we made something beautiful together and during that two-week meticulous process every year, we talked.  We spent night after night together, not watching television, but creating and talking together about life, our hopes and dreams as a family and our deepest thoughts about the meaning of Christmas.

When those trees would come down in early January, it would always signal the end of the best of times.  When the ornaments were once again carefully taken down and wrapped, the lights rolled up again and the tinsel restored piece by piece to their relative boxes and finally the tree was taken down and taken out back and burned in its final crackling blaze of glory, life would go on, but never quite like those special illuminated days of December.

“O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
What happiness befalls me
When oft at joyous Christmas-time
Your form inspires my song and rhyme.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
What happiness befalls me.”

For more inspirational music, thoughts and ideas from Peter Link,
please visit Watchfire Music.