This morning we took our annual pilgrimage to the Christmas tree farm, so we could pretend we were walking in the neatly planted rows of the forest. We just happened to see several trees that were suitable. The first, which I pointed out to the Megan, was thick with branches from the ground up. But it had one fatal flaw.
“Do you like this one, Megan?”
“No. There’s no room for presents underneath.”
Alrighty then. I hacked down another small tree with the farm-supplied saw and dragged it back to the shed where they bundle them up with plastic netting, just like the kind you find in the forest, and tossed it up on top of the X. We drove home, looking forward to tangled strings of lights and broken glass ornaments. This is, in fact, my favorite of all the holidays.
I despise Christmas. Loved it when I was a kid, mostly for the presents. Today I tolerate it and try to look happy about it. Mostly for the benefit of my little girls. In reality it’s a headache. Traffic is bad, gas is expensive, we always end up traveling somewhere for something, and too much money is spent on gifts that aren’t needed or appreciated. It’s stressful and I’d rather just have some quiet time and a nap. Bah. Humbug. The girls take the edge off. Smiling, giggling, laughing, tearing open wrapping paper to unveil some coveted treasure beneath. That part is priceless and worth every penny we didn’t have but spent anyway on the toys and candy canes.
Thanksgiving is nice. The traveling, which we almost always undertake, sucks, but it’s otherwise low key. Good food, family and friends, no expectations of materialism. I have a lot to be thankful for and more holidays should be like Thanksgiving.
The tree is lighted. When the girls wake from their naps we’ll photograph the Megan placing the star on top and commence to decorating. The title of this entry is “Killing Trees for Baby Jesus”. I didn’t really go anywhere with it, but the words have been stuck in my head for a couple days. Today they morphed into “I don’t care if it rains or freezes, ‘long as I have my plastic Jesus….”
I leave you with this. (And the chords, so jam on.) Have a Holly Jolly.
“Plastic Jesus” by George Cromarty and Ed Rush
I don't care if it rains or freezes 'Long as I got my plastic Jesus Riding on the dashboard of my car Through my trials and tribulations And my travels through the nations With my plastic Jesus I'll go far / D - / G - / D - A - / 1st, 2nd / D A D - / Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus Riding on the dashboard of my car I'm afraid He'll have to go His magnets ruin my radio And if I have a wreck He'll leave a scar / D - - - / - - A - / D - / G - / D A D - / Riding down a thoroughfare With His nose up in the air A wreck may be ahead, but He don't mind Trouble coming He don't see He just keeps His eye on me And any other thing that lies behind Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus Riding on the dashboard of my car Though the sunshine on His back Make Him peel, chip and crack A little patching keeps Him up to par When I'm in a traffic jam He don't care if I say "damn" I can let all my curses roll Plastic Jesus doesn't hear 'Cause he has a plastic ear The man who invented plastic saved my soul Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus Riding on the dashboard of my car Once His robe was snowy white Now it isn't quite so bright Stained by the smoke of my cigar If I weave around at night And policemen think I'm tight They never find my bottle, though they ask Plastic Jesus shelters me For His head comes off, you see He's hollow, and I use Him for a flask Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus Riding on the dashboard of my car Ride with me and have a dram Of the blood of the Lamb Plastic Jesus is a holy bar