Real Tree? or not to Real Tree? Isn't that the Question?

The Airport and Shongaloo

As Christmas rapidly approaches, the writer is overcome with a sense of pseudo urgency to complete the task at hand; that task being the purchase of the Seney Family Christmas Tree. Ergo entrance into the age old debate: "Real Tree vs. Fake Tree".

Excuse the writer as I wax nostalgic, but all this talk of Christmas brings back thoughts of yester-year and holidays gone bye. I remember Grandmother Seney's tree was WHITE and Mamaw Smith's tree was SILVER; and how neither could have been more than 4ft in height. These two exciting and odd trees strike me as bold and beautiful statement of the character and personality of the respective matriarchs, but to the average onlooker adjectives of gaudy and tacky could ring true, never the less I fondly recall them and more importantly the women behind them.

Grandmother Seney's white tree, as I recall, was ALWAYS adourned with red glass balls and red garland. Year after year it was the same tree and same decorations, as with everything with Grandmother; if nothing else it was consistent. Every Sunday we ate at Grandmother's and the menu never varied; POTROAST!!! Everything was consistant, from the TV tray at her end of the couch, the toys in the cabinet, to the spearmint gum and coloring books she kept stashed in her Pepto colored bedroom. With Grandmother you could expect NO surprises, and to be honest none were permitted. Grandmothers tree always appeared frail and delicate, as if it where adourned with a "Do Not Touch" sign (which I am sure she contemplated doing). That is how I remember her and that is how I remember her tree. Grandmother was an institution and I miss those Sundays.

For some reason I can not recall how Mamaw Smith's silver tree was dressed. Maybe it was a lack of decor, or it could be the shear overpowering presence of the tin foil tree beneath the decor that hinders my recollection. Either way that tree was a pure reflection of its owner. Mamaws tree was functional! Once assembled, one knew exactly where it stood. It was sturdy and strong, giving an impression of age without showing the slightest bit of wear or tear. Standing in its presence one was filled with appretiation for its functionality, durability, and longevity; but overcome by its beauty. There was nothing flashy about Mamaw's tree and it fit her perfectly.

Both women were called home to be with Lord and husband before I was a teen, and I miss there trees.