Devonne Brown

Take the Trees Down Dammit

Take the Trees Down Dammit

I hung three cheap fuzzy red and white Dollar Store stockings on the fireplace in the living room. I really wanted those super fancy beautiful needlepoint stockings. The boys grew up before I could afford them. These fuzzy socks provide the proper Christmas red and white contrast. 

 Since everything was painted white, it looked like Santa’s house. Decoration wise, less was more. I stuck the few cards I got on the mantle. I don’t send mass Christmas cards, it was a habit I never developed. My inner Einstein always kicked in and I couldn’t organize myself enough to send cards at the proper time.

I still laugh at the memory of Nick sitting on the side of the red Christmas trunk, a red hundred year old trunk with Christmas stuff in it, and finding the stockings. He was all clean from the shower, so he put them on over his pajamas and wore them the rest of the night. It made Ian crazy; I grinned at Nick’s audacity. He’d never get the chance to do it again.

There have been scant Christmases that I have sent Christmas cards. I never had any pre-signed, never had any made with a family picture, certainly no professional photographs; I will never be mother, sister, friend, or decent human of the year because of stupid Christmas cards.

Here it’s nearing the end of January and my Christmas trees stand just as proud as they did the first day I plugged them in. One’s a three foot pointy cone of vines with dense lights woven through it. It must have three sets of lights on it. Two huge sets of non blinking multicolored miniature lights acted as a base for about fifty twinkling colored lights. It was tight and bright and every bit as tacky as Christmas should be. I love it, it was a gift from an aunt who was downsizing. The multicolor minilight wreath-cone sits on the dresser in the gallery to balance the stockings on the fireplace, the end of the house proper. 

The gallery was the original dining room of the house. Now it’s a cross between a hallway and almost a room with a passthrough window from the kitchen where I hung paintings and kept a saucer of cream for Norris. Several arm chairs were trying to hide in the gallery, but were just getting torn up by the cats. Something had to be done. Norris was ripping my furniture to shreds, all of it.

In the family room, the six and a half foot, rose gold, foil tree, lit with two hundred multicolored miniature lights and a mile of red beads was magnificent. Laden with enough ornaments and hung with enough beads for a tree at least twice its size. I didn’t care if it had been taking up extra real estate on the floor, the tree was a work of art. It had day care, ersatz Victorian, third grade, modern art nouveau, custom artisan decorations, and other awesome ornamental things too. It was very much like most people’s Christmas trees, but it was mine.

 Oh my, it was fancy. The best pieces were the Groucho Elf Glasses. Red Groucho Marx glasses with white mustaches and eyebrows, perfect for every fall picture from Thanksgiving to New Years. 

I forgot to have the boys take their yearly requisite picture with their glasses on and holding them on the cat. Tragic.

I didn’t want my Christmas tree to go away, not yet. It was beautiful. I liked the way it sparkled and twinkled. It was rose gold foil, but I had so many red beads on it that it looked red. Beads were cool because of our trees when I was a kid of course. The trees we had when I was little had glass beads on strings, the only garland I liked fooling with. I bought at least two strands of red beads a year from CVS, they had the best, or Walmart, they had the next best, for ten years. I have enough red beads for a real tree twice the size of the little foil tree, enough ornaments too. I may need more beads soon though, they come in handy when classy decorations are needed.. This tree just held the best of the best.

 After inspecting and smelling everything, Norris left the tree alone. Between Christmas and Thanksgiving, I was floundering in a depressive episode, in an ugly place and couldn’t enjoy it so much. It had some boy stuff on it, but it was, in all reality, my tree. The ornaments practically had a seating chart. The boys knew where certain things go as well. They had to exchange the tin Santa for the Astronaut, and of course the Grinch was in the Unicycle’s spot.  Luckily the boys made the corrections quickly.

My tree has an aura. It’s got a real spirit to it. There’s going to be some powerful stuff go down in 2024.

But the trees, I still need this weekend with them. It must be the nine inches of snow outside today.