There Is No “I” in Christmas

My wife Ann chimed in: “Yes, actually there is an ‘I’ in Christmas.”

Oh, whatever! Look, I’m deep in the throes of a Black Friday food hangover, and you expect me to spell? This was during our annual Christmas tree harvest, and somebody had complained about slogging through the gooey mud at Bob’s Trees. Suck it up! No I in Christmas!

Easy for me to say, because I was walking behind the boys supervising their trudge with the tree.

This year was sort of a milestone because we allowed our youngest to wield the saw. Cutting the tree is a HUGE responsibility, but he did a fine job despite the challenge posed by its girthy trunk.

Overall, we were having a good day. No arguments, manageable mud conditions, an excellent selection of trees… this was a good year. And I know the difference.  After more than twenty-five years of cutting down Christmas trees, I’ve seen every variety of trouble.

Except for one.

In a giddy state from having other people do all the work, I let the boys (ages 24 and 17) tie the tree to the top of the car. This is something I’ve always done myself, and except for that time I tied the doors of the car shut, there was never any problem. However, when I looked up through the sunroof to admire the stump of our freshly cut tree, I noticed that it had shifted considerably while we were on the Northway.

It doesn’t take much imagination to picture what it would look like if your tree went tumbling off the top of the car at 70 MPH… or if it got loose and was dragged behind. At the risk of offending the young men sitting in the back, I got out and pulled the ropes tighter than a… oh, nevermind.

So, wrap up your Christmas with a bow if you like — I’ll fasten mine down with a nylon rope.

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