Christmas in the Desert
Getting a Christmas tree from the woods usually marked the start of Christmas for our family. As the oldest of six, it fell to me to start prodding Dad that it was time for the expedition. Sometimes there was snow and sometimes it was cold and sometimes it was cold and drizzly. Dad did not enjoy these expeditions as much as we children did. But sooner or later he agreed to go just to end the begging.
Of course the tradition varied depending on which part of the western United States we were currently living in. The year I was in eighth grade, we had moved from Puget Sound area in Washington state to the Mojave Desert. Our front door opened to an expanse of sand and Joshua Trees. We would not be cutting a tree from the woods this year. Dad checked out the tree lots when he went to town to buy car parts. “No Christmas tree this year,” he announced. "Too expensive!" The trees in the Victorville lots were selling for an unbelievable $1.00 a foot!
Depression hung over the household like a cloud. Christmas without a tree? It was unthinkable! To us the tree with its odd assortment of shiny balls, homemade ornaments and shimmering foil icicles was Christmas. Our disappointment only increased as the days ticked by and Christmas drew closer. Then one day the mailman knocked on our door. He was dragging a large tree behind him. The tree was a douglas fir with a tag attached with our name and address written on it-no return address. The mailman just shook his head in disbelief as he dropped it on our doorstep and headed for his truck.
The tree was a bit battered and needle-bare from its long journey through the mail. But it was still a Christmas tree and we were ecstatic! The sender was a mystery. But someone had made six children deliriously happy and saved Christmas for them.
Note: To read the other two childhood Christmas stories, click on the tag "Christmas" at the top of this story.
Of course the tradition varied depending on which part of the western United States we were currently living in. The year I was in eighth grade, we had moved from Puget Sound area in Washington state to the Mojave Desert. Our front door opened to an expanse of sand and Joshua Trees. We would not be cutting a tree from the woods this year. Dad checked out the tree lots when he went to town to buy car parts. “No Christmas tree this year,” he announced. "Too expensive!" The trees in the Victorville lots were selling for an unbelievable $1.00 a foot!
Depression hung over the household like a cloud. Christmas without a tree? It was unthinkable! To us the tree with its odd assortment of shiny balls, homemade ornaments and shimmering foil icicles was Christmas. Our disappointment only increased as the days ticked by and Christmas drew closer. Then one day the mailman knocked on our door. He was dragging a large tree behind him. The tree was a douglas fir with a tag attached with our name and address written on it-no return address. The mailman just shook his head in disbelief as he dropped it on our doorstep and headed for his truck.
The tree was a bit battered and needle-bare from its long journey through the mail. But it was still a Christmas tree and we were ecstatic! The sender was a mystery. But someone had made six children deliriously happy and saved Christmas for them.
Note: To read the other two childhood Christmas stories, click on the tag "Christmas" at the top of this story.