Tree Is a Reminder of What’s Important

Monday, December 28, 2009

Page 11

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Tree Is a Reminder of What’s Important

By J’AMY PACHECO

I was up to my eyeballs in unpacked boxes, to-do lists, home repairs and Christmas gift shopping worries when my 13-year-old advised me she was “a little depressed” that we didn’t have a Christmas tree up in our new home.

When she mentioned this, we’d been in the house for four days. Ordinarily, we would have been relatively settled by then. But our newly-renovated home had a few surprises for us, and dealing with unexpected issues like falling shower doors, leaking toilets and appliances that were dropped off and never installed left us with no time to handle more than the basic necessities.

My daughter’s disappointment, however, made me realize I needed to shift gears. It seemed inappropriate for us to let our first holiday in our new home pass with no fanfare.

So I stopped all of my move-related activities, dug the artificial tree out of the garage, and put it together. I bought new lights rather than search for the old ones, then asked my husband to find the Christmas ornament boxes in the still-full garage.

He poked around, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. Both of us have been exhausted since we started the move, and the garage continues to be a very scary place. After disappearing into the sea of boxes for a while, he came back and asked, “Is this really all that important?”

My first thought was to whack him on head with one of the branches to demonstrate how important it was. But I’m not a violent person, so instead, I replied, “Ask your daughter.”

That sent him back to the garage, and he eventually emerged with the plastic storage containers containing ornaments collected over several decades.

While I worked on the tree, my daughter sat on the couch and read aloud passages from a humorous book. It was a spoof of the popular “Twilight” saga, and to be honest, I didn’t think it was all that funny. What I most enjoyed was hearing my beloved daughter read it to me, and listening to her laughter.

I had some new ornaments to hang but no hooks handy, so I started removing hooks from old, generic ornaments. One rolled into the bottom of the box, and I almost didn’t notice that it was the teddy bear ornament from “Baby’s First Christmas.” I rescued it, and hung it carefully on the tree.

As I selected each ornament, I thought about what it meant to our family—when, and how, we chose it. An Indiana Jones character was purchased because for a time, Indiana Jones was my daughter’s favorite ride at Disneyland. Mickey Mouse and Tinker Bell ornaments are perennial favorites of ours, and we add new versions of these to our collection virtually every year.

I still have the ornament my daughter’s teacher in “Mommy-n-Me” preschool painted for us, as well as the foamy rubber candy cane my daughter made in kindergarten. A decorated cork from a bottle of wine shared on an anniversary hangs on the tree, as does the collection of pink, glittery ornaments I bought 25 years ago while working in Rhode Island.

One of my favorite ornaments is a small crystal angel that hangs from a strand of red yarn. I bought the ornament at the Cliff House in San Francisco the summer I was 17 and my pal Sandy and I drove up the coast. Handling the angel, I still couldn’t believe our mothers let us do that. Good times.

I’m glad I didn’t whack my husband with the branch, because I realized later that his was a valid question. Neither the tree nor the ornaments are really that important.

More important are the memories that go along with the ornaments—the wonder we felt at finally having a baby with whom we could share Christmas; the excitement when my daughter finally conquered her fear and rode the “Indiana Jones” ride; the remarkable ocean-front restaurant where the bottle of wine was consumed; the heady freedom of the San Francisco trip; the fun of working with a great group of people in the tiny town of Pawtucket, Rhode Island; the delight of “Mommy-n-Me” preschool, where I met a woman who became a very dear, and hopefully, lifelong friend.

Although it seems overwhelming at times, none of the house stuff is really all that important. What is important is that I have my family, we all have good health and great friends, food on the table and a roof over our heads—even though a few tiles up there need to be replaced.

And now, we also have a tree filled with memories. I think it’s just what we needed.