One Christmas our parents took the family for a drive to find a tree to decorate for the holiday. Lots of families do that – sing carols, drink cocoa and choose a green, conical tree with furry branches from a tree lot or farm.
But our Dad had … a different idea.
We were blessed with two creative parents that weren’t afraid to do something out of the ordinary. Our creative parents never feared the unconventional—though we kids didn’t always appreciate it. That year we became known as the family with the most nonconical, nongreen, nonfurry tree in the county – maybe the state.
We piled in the station wagon, clueless about our folks’ plan. After passing field after field of brittle and yellowed wheat grass, Dad spotted a sad, sparsely populated clump of towering, almost leafless oaks. He parked the car alongside the barbed wire fence that skirted the road. With our oldest brother’s help, he wriggled through the barbed wire, saw in hand. Mom kept a lookout for the authorities.
After a time, Dad spied the perfect branch – creatively gnarly, not too big, and not too high up. He cut it down, hauled it over to the station wagon and cinched it on the roof. We headed back home with a twisty, scantily clad oak branch dangling over the windshield.
At home, the branch was propped up in our garage where Mom and Dad went to work. They stripped the less "artsy" leaves, cleaned it, snipped any eye-gouging twigs and sanded it. After spray-painting the remaining leaves gold and the trunk blue, then finishing with a snowy flocking, Dad brought it into the “pink” room. Named for its dusty pink carpet, it served as the living room in our four-square, post-Victorian home.
When he was done setting it up, the artfully twisted branch appeared to "grow" out of the floor and up one wall. That’s when it became more tree than branch.
Mom dressed our tree with deliciously pink and darker-accented bulbs of various sizes. A white cottony blanket sprinkled with glitter disguised the base. With instruction from her, we kids were allowed to help strategically drape (“Place, don’t throw.”) a thoughtful measure of tinsel (which was actually lead at that time!) throughout the tree.
When the magic was complete, our Christmas tree exuded an elegant – even romantic – winter vibe, the limbs gracefully curling and twisting upward in an arboreal ballet. It was completely unique from any other.
Our folks’ modern take on Christmas trees contrasted elegantly with the Victorian vibe of the house. And while some visitors loved the tableau, others scratched their heads, unsure. That was ok with Dad and Mom. Their joy and personality shone through and that was the point.
We repeated the tradition several Christmases afterward. Years later, when Terry had her own place, she mimicked dad’s uncommon perspective and found a branch to use for her own special one-of-a-kind Christmas tree. Kathi stuck with green conical trees but remains a stickler about how they’re decorated (“Place, don’t throw.”).
This Christmas – if you’re so inclined – consider doing something out of the ordinary, something unconventional. But only if it’s truly “you”. Doesn’t have to be a big thing. Could be something simple like trading the usual red and green for Sunset Orange and Truly Teal. Or hanging chandelier drops or jewelry instead of or along with bulbs. Try decorating a non-lethal potted cactus as a tabletop tree. But whatever you decide to do, be you!
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If you are prone to decorating at Christmas with a touch of the oddball, feel free to leave a comment. Sharing is caring!
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