There's nothing quite like Christmas.
But I'm sure those poor evergreens could do without it. For them, the holiday is a death penalty.
For years, our family has looked forward to Christmas and the opportunity to kill a tree and decorate it for the holidays.
One year, Joni and I shopped for just the right tree as darkness fell on an area Christmas tree farm. By the glow of a flashlight, we cut down a pine tree. We weren't about to have an artificial tree. That just wouldn't have been right.
We had to have the real thing. After our children were born, we continued the tradition, journeying to a tree farm for freshly cut pines and firs.
Last year things were so hectic, we settled for a tree lot tree. Still, it was the real thing and not something out of a box.
We were thrilled to have history on our side.
In ancient times, people believed that evergreens would keep away witches, ghosts, evil spirits and Florida recounts.
The Vikings in Scandinavia thought that evergreens were the special plant of the sun god, Balder, who later moved to Minnesota and started a professional football team.
By 1605, some Germans were decorating their homes with evergreens and lighted candles. This practice was certain to get everyone fired up for the holidays.
Eventually, Christmas trees found their way to Britain and the United States. By the late 1800s, people were hanging everything on the evergreens but the kitchen sink.
With all this history behind it, we never imagined we would settle for an artificial tree.
But times change. With the start of the new millennium, we decided to buy an artificial tree. Joni found one that has a zillion branches and takes about an hour to assemble.
When assembled, it's bigger than many Third World countries.
Assembly was a family affair. Becca and Bailey helped fluff the branches under the watchful eye of Joni, who grew up with artificial trees and apparently was the queen of fluff.
She even had a few pointers for me on how to best fluff an artificial branch of needles.
"You have to know how to fluff it," she explained. "You should be the king of fluff," she added, pointing to my journalistic background.
Of course, even fluff requires some assembly.
When finished, we stood back and admired our mixed Colorado pine tree in the middle of our living room.
I'm not sure exactly what constitutes a mixed tree. But I'm not interested in the pedigree.
Besides, the tree looked so real. There were even little green needles scattered on the carpet, victims of the "some assembly required" process.
As it turns out, artificial trees have a proud history too.
In the 1880s, the goose feather tree became popular with those who were a little down in the mouth.
In America, the Addis Brush Co. created the first brush tree using the same machinery that made their toilet brushes.
Unlike the feather tree, the brush trees could hold heavier ornaments and scrub out large toilets.
In the 1950s, the silver pine tree was patented. It was designed to have a revolving light source under it with colored lenses that allowed the light to shine in different shades. All you needed was your own lounge singer and you could have a merry Christmas.
Of course, none of those trees could light a candle to today's realistic artificial trees. Not to mention, you shouldn't really put lit candles on any Christmas tree.
Now that our new tree is up, we can look forward to hours of untangling strands of Christmas tree lights and hauling down all those ornaments in the attic.
Hanging chads seem to be popular this year in Florida. So far, we haven't found such holiday decorations in Missouri.
But with any luck, we'll find a few chads in time for Christmas. Of course, we don't need any pregnant ones. We have our hands full as it is.
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