In honor of the coming season....the Corsicana Christmas Tree

John and I had been married for just over a year on our second Christmas together and while we were in Corsicana at Thanksgiving, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea. I wanted to bring home a Christmas tree from Corsicana. I didn’t want to buy one from a tree stand but instead I wanted John, Gran and I to go hunt down one in a field, cut it down ourselves, pack it up and bring it home to Monroe. We would create a memory we would never forget. That statement was so very true. When I presented the idea to Gran, he was less than enthusiastic about it but I let him know that happy or not, he was going. We would be going. We would be cutting. We would be hauling. We would be making a memory. I was determined to do it and have John and Gran join me in this wonderful memory making project and I wanted the biggest tree I could fit in my house…ummm…small apartment. And so we set out on our way to find the most perfect tree in Corsicana. I was really the only one that was excited about the adventure but I was convinced the 2 of them would soon see how much fun we would have. After all, we were making a memory.

Gran was a bit grumbly because he wasn’t a huge fan of the whole Christmas tree decoration thing in the house. He and Grandma hadn’t put one up in years and in fact I have no remembrance of ever seeing one in their house but I knew he would soon see how much fun we would have. Besides, the perfect tree was close by and remember, we were making a memory. So we all climbed in the truck and drove down the road a bit, turned into Mary Jane’s property and began the search for the perfect Eastern Red Cedar that we would liberate from her ownership. I knew we would take it home and decorate it proudly and we would have made a memory. And somehow our Christmas would be more wonderful with a tree found and handpicked by Gran, John and me. I felt very satisfied.

Well the very first itty bitty trees Gran saw he tried to talk me into but I would hear nothing about it. He didn’t quite seem to be grasping the concept of how wonderful this was and he didn’t seem interested at all in making a memory. But I was sure that he would soon change his mind and get on board with the adventure.

We drove down the fence row and searched. I was talked out of 12 foot trees more than one time and I was getting a little ticked. I didn’t care that my ceilings were only 8 feet; that’s what trimming was for. A twelve footer was what I wanted. But each time we came to a huge tree, they said no. Finally we found one that was about 10 feet tall as well as around and I would not budge. This was our tree and we were cutting it then and there. With Gran shaking his head the entire time, John got the saw and began to cut the most beautiful tree I had ever seen. I could hear myself say, “Ahhhh inside.” The most perfect Christmas lay ahead for us. It was going to be grand. After the cutting we struggled to load the huge tree into the truck but we managed to get it in and back to the house we went. I was satisfied and Gran and John were finished with their chore; but we had clearly made a memory.

The next feat that lay ahead of us was to somehow cram this 10 foot tree that was going in my 8 foot house into our 4 foot tiny green Mazda 626 and get it home to Monroe. No problem. We could put the back seats down, thread the needle which was the 10-footer and easily make this thing happen. And so after wrapping it in something, I don’t remember what, we opened the trunk and got to work. I was shocked the tree was struggling to fit and John’s face was getting redder by the minute. My face was saying we were not leaving the perfect Christmas tree behind which caused John to shove and cram harder. And it did fit, with the car trunk open and the tree trunk sitting on the front dashboard. And so with Gran’s head still shaking in disbelief, we said our goodbyes and were off on our way.

As we rode home, it was somewhat like sitting amongst a large grove of trees, a forest of you will with the occasional branch or 2 having to be slapped out of our eyes. But we made it home with our Corsicana Christmas tree that was going to be beautiful and we had made a memory. Of course very quickly after we got home, I insisted that we set up our tree. And so with a tree stand that was made for a 3 foot tree we began the process of cramming the special tree into the unworthy stand. Now through the years, for John and I, the task of putting a Christmas tree into a stand was never accomplished without a huge fight. I thought he got to bossy and I would get mad and so each and every perfect Christmas season would begin with the obligatory argument for the first 15 years of our marriage. It was just part of the process of Christmas. But at some point we got the brilliant idea to have the people at the tree store put the stand on and we haven’t fought since. Best 15 bucks we ever spent.

So after words had been exchanged, and the tree trunk was firmly in, and I mean firmly, it was time to bring our beautiful Christmas memory into our cute snuggly small home. There was only one problem. Oh the tree shoved right through the door fairly easily, but when we stood it up, we found the top 2 ½ feet of it lying on the ceiling. And there in my head was the echo of Gran’s voice telling me the tree I had picked was never gonna fit in my house. And so began the long arduous process of cutting and cutting and cutting and making a memory. Well we gnawed off what seemed like 90% of my beautiful tree until finally the height problem had been dealt with, but another issue was waiting in the wings. We quickly discovered that unless we wanted to literally watch TV through a forest, we were gonna have to do some major branch trimming as well. Our tiny little living room had been engulfed by the ginormous cedar. It pretty much took up 2/3 of our entire living area and so with pain in my heart, more cutting commenced. I felt hurt with each cut of a branch, and all I could see was my beautiful stately tree being whittled down to something resembling the size of an oversized toothpick. .

After what seemed like hours of trimming, we had finally made the tree fit into our apartment. It had been a process but we had made a memory. And the tree we were left with was about the size of the very first one Gran had spied out that I sniffed my nose at and dismissed. But he never had to know about that. And so we strung the lights and we carefully placed the ornaments and even though the tree was not as big as I had envisioned; I was satisfied with my memory.

Our cute little apartment was 2 rooms, literally, so the next morning when I came into the living room, my nostrils became offended immediately. Something stunk. I didn’t know how or when but someone had let a herd of Tom cats in our house and they had obviously peed all over everything. I was concerned to say the least but I knew no such thing could have happened. I searched and searched for the source of the stink but to no avail until….my attention turned to my memory making Christmas tree. Could it be possible? My memory couldn’t’ possibly be the problem. Could it? But to my surprise my sniff led me straight to the tree indeed. Very few people I suspect have any idea what a trimmed beyond an inch of its life Eastern Red Cedar smells like when 90% of its branches have been lopped off. But I’m saying it’s bad. Really, invite every cat that’s ever crossed your path into your house and ask them to pee ANYWHERE in your house that they’d like and then you’ll be close to the odor. It was a huge stank and it was everywhere. I was devastated to say the least. What were we to do? The tree was decorated and Christmas was coming and we had made a memory.

Because I was so desperate, I broke down and called Gran and he was a delight as well as very helpful. He laughed for about 30 minutes. After that he was done. There was no sympathy for me or my beautiful tree that smelled like cat piss. And so as the days wore on, the smell made itself a home right in the middle of our living room. It was unbearable and the question was what were we gonna do? We had searched and picked and hauled and cut and cut and cut and now were we just gonna throw?

There was so much sap in the air my skin felt sticky. I think we had cut every single branch on that entire tree and sap was coming from every little open wound on it. But, I was determined to save Christmas…..and my memory by doing whatever it took to keep my cat pee smelling lovely memory making tree for the holidays. And so I spent dollar after dollar on potpourri and air freshener. I boiled cinnamon and cloves and orange peels on a minute by minute basis. I sprayed the tree with air freshener and we put baking soda in the tree water. This tree was freshened within an inch of its life but finally on about Christmas Eve the smell finally dissipated. It was like we had run a marathon and it only took 30 days to win, but we had certainly made a memory.

And so the day after Christmas that stupid memory making Eastern Red Cedar came down and evil left our apartment. And the image I had in my head of our second Christmas with our Corsicana tree didn’t quite turn out as I had planned. What I expected was holly and happy and holidays and memories…..and yeah well it was stupid. I couldn’t afford holly; I had spent $200 on cinnamon and air freshener and baking soda. But one thing was certain; we had definitely made a memory cause we still talk about the cat piss Christmas tree.

And so of course, the next year, Gran was all about going to help me pick the perfect Corsicana Christmas tree to haul home for the second year in a row and imagine his surprise when I turned him down cold.

Stupid tree.

Stupid memory.