The Holidays Weren’t Always Smooth Sailing

Fri., Dec. 19, 1997

Phyllis Stephens The Spokesman-

For the first time in more years than I can remember, I am actually ready for Christmas before Christmas Eve. The house is decorated, the tree is standing and most all the gifts are purchased - and wrapped. I even have time to leisurely bake a few cookies and relax.

As I sit here enjoying the beauty of our Christmas tree, I can’t help but recall some Christmas seasons when I wasn’t quite so prepared - especially the Christmas of ‘92. In memory of that Christmas and some of you might remember, I’m reprinting a column that first appeared Dec. 19, 1992.

I am finally ready for Christmas. The tree is a fantasy of twinkling lights and delicate ornaments. Christmas flowers and scented evergreens grace every corner. Special gifts have all been chosen and wrapped, and the house has an aroma of baking cookies. It is now time to sit back and enjoy the magic and serenity of this holy season.

Hmmmm … somewhere between setting up the tree and sitting back I must have fallen asleep. What I am staring at is certainly not the scenario I just described.

There are boxes of garlands, leftover ornaments, lights and miscellaneous decorations everywhere. Plants are begging for a drink. Something for that special someone is still on my “to get” list and our bedroom is jammed with sacks of presents and just as many sacks of wrapping paper.

True, the tree does have a special twinkle about it and the ornaments are lovely, but getting the tree to assume that look wasn’t exactly easy. After it’s 7-inch diameter base was jammed into our tree stand, it decided to take a nose-dive - lights, ornaments and all.

The only fantasy going on in our house was the rockets’ red glare. After I talked husband Jim into recutting the tree right there in the living room, the tree was once again erected. Nope. Timmmm-ber. Again he whittled and sawed and with every pull, needles drifted to the floor and sawdust fell onto (and off of) the newspapers spread out to protect the carpet.

Finally, the tree was up. Only this time it seemed to permanently tilt at a 70-degree angle. This was easily rectified by a few dozen hardbound books.

Little did we know that the tree’s weight and the flimsy stand were waging a battle of their own. The stand caved in and the tree came down again. The lights that I convinced Jim to leave on because “there was only a little cutting to do” looked as though they had been through Hurricane Ella.

In desperation, we cut off the base at a point that would fit the stand. Unfortunately, this left us with a 4-foot-high globe-shaped shrub.

With a half-smile and controlled temper, Jim removed the tangled lights, lifted the shrub, forced it through the back door and heaved it out onto the lawn.

Now the tree leans proudly against the outside Nativity scene dressed in twinkling white lights, as if to say, “This is where I wanted to be all along.” The tree stand has found a home in the attic. I figure some day our grandchildren will find it and want to know the story of Grandpa and the Christmas tree of 1992.

Though the word “artificial” peeled throughout the house during the struggle, we replaced the first effort with another cut tree. We put it in a mega-stand which seems to be holding its own.

The moral of the story? It is best to choose a tree that will fit the stand or a stand to fit the tree.

As for the flowers and evergreens brightening every corner of the room, mine seem to leave a little to be desired. The Christmas cactus put on a glorious display at Halloween and the amaryllis resembles a snorkel tube. The one grouping I did have, a couple of poinsettia and an azalea, were nearly turned into compost by the falling tree.

I use all the houseplants as decorations during the Christmas season, which means having to bend the houseplant rules a bit. Many plants are grouped where there is little, if any, light. I realize this isn’t the best environment for them, but once the tree comes down (hopefully at a time of our choosing), there should be plenty of light.

And as for the smell of cookies baking? The downed Christmas tree doesn’t hold a candle to the mess five college kids and mom can make baking cookies. That’s a story for another time. Oh, how I love the traditions of Christmas.

Now, five years later, those five college kids baking cookies have been replaced by five grandbabies baking cookies. And the result is a welcome mess. From our house to yours: Happy holidays and Merry Christmas to you all.

, DataTimes The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Phyllis Stephens The Spokesman-Review

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