First published in the Tri Town Transcript, December 7th 2018.
By Esther C. Baird
Oh, Christmas decorating. Regular readers know this sets me into a tizzy every year. Between the events and the decorations and the shopping, I fall behind before I even begin. And let’s not discuss the family card. I am the deer in the giant Mack Truck headlights of Shutterfly and address books and stamps.
But why bother finishing up things on the homefront when I could expend my energy someplace else? Which is how I found myself with two other volunteer moms this past week attempting to deck our children’s school hallway with a small grove of fake trees.
Our fine arts director told us, “they are all clearly labeled in the storage room. There should be four trees and two boxes of ornaments.”
Sounded easy enough. What could go wrong? Well for starters, teenagers could get added to the mix. The high schoolers had pilfered the storage closet last spring for a decorating contest, and when they replaced the items, they had not exactly followed the “leave everything as you found it” rule of life.
“Wow,” I exclaimed. “The tree situation seems … tricky.”
There were miscellaneous tree bases and tops with the occasional middle piece all in different fake foliage coloring. These were scattered amongst fake azalea branches and a white wreath that had pink bows and possibly a confetti cake mix thrown at it for good measure.
“We could mix and match the tree pieces and no one would notice?” I suggested hopefully, peering across the closet.
“I’m pretty sure people would notice,” replied my overly precise friend.
We did our best and, Tetris style, pulled bits of trees together, flattened branches, screwed metal stems into metal trunks and generally assembled a little forest of oddly shaped trees.
Our fine arts director, dressed smartly in her pantsuit, walked in and exclaimed, “you definitely have the wrong base on that tree!”
She promptly laid down on the school floor and shimmied under an extremely tall and not remotely stable tree.
“No, no,” I cried. “I’m in jeans!! You’re in …”
It was too late. She had vanished beneath the tree.
“I’m fine!” She yelled up through the sharp tree limbs (my friend was already bleeding out from her encounter with a branch that aspired to be a bayonet). “I do this every year!!”
The tree swayed dangerously close to the smoke detector and heating vents, and I dove into the middle to secure it, much like one might secure a sequoia, which is to say, you wouldn’t.
Finally we heard a giant CLICK and the tree stood secure in its base, though still tall beyond what was really acceptable for a school tree.
The fine arts director emerged with nary a speck of dust on her pant suit, proving she was magical in more ways than one. She smiled serenely, clearly knowing she bore the decorative weight of the school on her shoulders. “It takes practice.”
With the trees in place, we opened the two bins of ornaments, which were a jumble of red and gold, all in various states of usability. Some had hooks. Some had string. One was a giant golden ball the size of my head.
“This ornament makes a statement!” I said as I hung it on the highest branches of the towering tree. My friend stared at it. “It sure does. It says, ‘I do not belong here.’”
The other mom laughed, “it looks like a security camera disguised as an ornament.”
I was not deterred and insisted we leave it up. They secretly plotted to take it down, and we agreed to move on to the garland. But only holiday madness and agitation lay in the piles of tangled green swags. The whole thing was starting to feel exhausting … like this season so often does.
And then the kindergarten class rounded the corner on their way to the cafeteria. They walked by in perfect line formation, obedient, small and quiet. But as they turned into our hallway, there was a gasp. Mouths flew open, hands went to faces, smiles emerged and a hushed whisper spread down the line. “The tree!” “It’s so pretty!” “It’s Christmas!” “Look at the trees!” “It’s beautiful!”
The kids didn’t care if the trees were shaped like giraffes. They didn’t notice if the ornaments matched or the lights weren’t orderly. They only saw the sparkle and the shine, the golds and the greens.
They saw what we often miss — that it’s Christmastime, and it’s beautiful.