OH, CHRISTMAS TREE, OH, CHRISTMAS TREE

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I have finally bested the Christmas tree monster.

No, I have not started early on the eggnog. You see, every year, I go through the same brutal wrestling match while trying to put up my Christmas tree, and every year I end up (a) hating the tree as a result and (b) saying many things that are inappropriate, especially now that I have a child.

Every year it’s the same thing – my wife and I go pick out a tree, and then I come home and sit in the driveway for about seven hours trying to get the stand on the tree. When I do finally get the stand attached and stand the tree upright, the tree either falls (usually on me), or is so crooked it would be more appropriate as the official Yuletide decoration of Pisa.

After much struggling, I drag the tree inside against its will and lean it in a corner. The only way to keep it from toppling over is to secure it to a wall with wire, although secure is probably not an accurate word, because last year, despite enough cable to support a medium-sized bridge, the tree fell over twice, once on the cat. (No, the cat wasn’t hurt, although you can bet this is one of her least favorite holidays now.)

This year, though, I decided it would be different. I realized that Christmas is supposed to be a joyous occasion, and the soon-to-be dead hunk of lumber I was going to drag into my house was supposed to be a festive and happy symbol. That, and my wife threatened me with institutionalization. Apparently, this is another one of those steps in the whole "growing up" thing I’m supposed to be undergoing.

When it came time to select our tree, my wife and I decided that we would climb aboard a horse-drawn sleigh and head over snowy hills to find the perfect fir, deep in the country. We then realized that we did not live in a Budweiser commercial, so we opted to hit one of those roadside stands.

After browsing through the selection, my wife found the tree she wanted. We had a moment of discussion prior to making the selection:

HER: Look! It’s perfect! It’s just the right height, and it’s nice and full!

ME: What’s the price?

Despite being the new Christmas me, the pre-enlightenment Ebeneezer in me came out before forking out perfectly good American currency for a tree that will be carted out to the curb in about a month. My wife explained to me that cost was not the important issue when selecting the perfect tree. The important issue was that my wife thought it was the perfect tree.

In no time, the kind folks at the tree lot had netted up the tree and placed it on top of my car. Soon, I would be home in the driveway, facing the tree monster once again. Only time would tell if I could maintain my sanity and, for once, put the tree up without throwing a hammer across my yard.

When we got home, my wife did the thing she usually does when I begin putting the tree up – she went inside and began pounding scotch.

No, only kidding. But she did go inside, because she has found that it is better just to leave me alone in those situations. For one thing, you don’t want to get smacked by an errant hammer.

I stood there looking at the tree, and looking at a new Christmas stand I had bought. This was the third stand in three years. That, I figured, must be the problem, not complete and total ineptness on my part.

I took a deep breath, and went head-to-head with my old nemesis. I sawed off the bottom part of the tree, as someone once told me I should. I then took the brand new stand and eased it on the bottom of the trunk. As I slid the stand on, something amazing happened – with relative ease, it slipped into place, easily and securely. I scratched my head, as this kind of thing never happened before. I decided I would try and stand the tree upright and go ahead and get to the falling-on-top-of me phase. With the tree vertical, I was amazed to see it stay put, perfectly straight, just begging for ornaments.

Still somewhat in shock, I carried the tree inside to its usual spot. I assumed that this was a clever tree, and it was just waiting for the right time to leap from its location onto the cat.

Folks – as I write this – four days after putting the tree up – it is still standing, completely straight and without any cables. My wife has decorated the tree, and it looks like it may indeed be the perfect Christmas tree. My clear head and attentive game plan have finally led me to a place in my life where I can successfully put up a Christmas tree without doing possible harm to my marriage. It’s a beautiful thing. It’s clear to me that this, my friends, is a Christmas miracle.