We Needed a Christmas Tree

We Needed a Christmas Tree

I was in upper elementary or early high school the Christmas we “needed” a Christmas Tree. Daddy picked Carol and me up at St. Agnes. Christmas vacation had begun and we were excited! Two weeks of playing with our pets, of no homework, of reading what and where we wanted to.

Mother had sent a list of course, so Daddy dropped us and the list at Safeway while he went to do something else then picked us up and we went home to the ranch.

At home we carried the groceries into the house and Daddy returned to the car. When he came in with a tree, Mother started to protest but Daddy put his index finger to his lips and nothing else was said.

Looking back, I can see that Irish optimism had trumped German pragmatism. Daddy's index finger to lips was not so much “don't talk” as it was “it'll be alright.”

Mother had probably decided that we didn't need a tree. We would be spending Christmas Eve and most of Christmas Day with our grandparents where there was sure to be a large tree elegantly decorated. Cattle prices had probably been low and she was in penny pinching mode. And, she didn't like the mess.

But, Daddy had little girls who needed the sense of family togetherness as we decorated. Who needed the creativity of decorating a tree just so and the awe of viewing our creation in the darkened living room and running outside to see if the lights shone through the windows. Daddy's girls needed imagination and flights of fancy and Christmas dreams.

We needed a Christmas Tree.