Ho ho the mistletoe
Is hung where you can see
Somebody waits for you
Kiss her once for me…
~~Burl Ives (Lyrics by Johnny Marks)
[The sad tree. Photo is mine.]
Once upon a time, I was sitting in a small inexpensive apartment in a city quite far from where I’m writing this, and I was sad.
The holidays were approaching too fast for me. I stood in the cracked-glass window and looked out at the street, the houses and the city beyond. The Yuletide Spirit filled the air. The malls were crowded. The taverns were full. The beautiful teenage girls wore red coats with red Santa hats and white mittens. The handsome teenage boys carried hockey sticks and toboggans. Der Bingle sang White Christmas from the radio behind me as the children on the sidewalk threw snowballs at one another. So much joy.
And I was still sad…so sad that I began to cry.
I looked around my living space. In an empty corner of the living room the TV sat silent as a Christmas night. The sofa had my blanket and pillow where I slept last night.
The room was too bare. I needed a tree.
On day one, I walked to the nearby Dollar Store to buy matches. There, by the entrance, was a tree. A very sad tree. I stood and looked at it. It seemed to say: Buy Me! So I did. (I always listen when a tree talks to me). It was now my tree. I paid cash and dragged it home. No need to worry about a proper stand and water. The tree wasn’t real and no needles would be dropping on my shag rug. I also bought a small string of white pin lights for $.99. I had three bulbs that I once placed on my family tree, back in the day. Better days. I stood back and studied the plastic pine. You’re pretty lame, I said to no one. You’re pathetic, I said to myself. You’re an embarrassment, I said to the tree. I can’t let anyone see you.
Darkness had fallen on the street.
On day two, I heard something on the front porch. The bell rang. Carolers.
I opened the door to six adults and their six children. I stood as they sang Silent Night Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem and three more lively carols. I wanted to kiss them all, the fathers too, but I failed to buy the Mistletoe. They stopped and someone said Merry Christmas. Same to you all, I said. They hesitated a moment and left. I had left the door open all this time.
On day three, I heard an unexpected doorbell ring. Not that I was expecting anyone. I opened the door to an adult and a little girl, who was bundled in fleece and faux fur. Mister, she said, I sang for you last night. I remember, I said. Well, sir, I peeked in and saw your pretty little tree. But, I thought you needed one more piece for the top. She pointed with her mitten. Then she reached in a Macy’s bag and pulled out a little golden star. Here, and Merry Christmas, she said. How much do I owe you?, I asked her. Oh, nothing. Gifts are free. Thank you, I said. The mother nodded to me and a tiny, ever so small and sweet smile moved on her lips.
I placed the star on top and stood back. Funny, I thought, the girl saw the tree pretty and I saw it as scrawny. But, you’re not so bad after all, I said with a smile. What shall I call you? I have to give you a name. After all, my UkuleIe is named ‘Maybellene’. I thought it over. I know, your name shall be Tiny Tim, now and forever. I poured myself a double of Snapple Unsweetened Iced Tea and placed eight Tater Tots into the toaster oven. The bell went ‘ping” and, with a generous dollop of ketchup, I was good to go with my dinner. The Travel Channel is something of my default setting so on it went and we watched a documentary on the Migratory Habits of the Musk Ox. “In the spring, the mother musk ox takes her young…” I dozed, off but not before commenting to my tree: “Watch this, it’s so cool”.
On day four, a friend dropped by. He handed me an unwrapped box. No need to wrap it, he said. You may want to use it in the days ahead. I opened it and pulled out a CD. It was Bob Dylan’s Christmas of the Heart. I put it in and played “Christmas Island”. I laughed. I smiled. I sang along. I first smelled the tree.
On day five, I played the song again. The Bob is having so much fun. I loved it. I grinned and sipped a Toddy. It wasn’t the toddy, but the tree looked pretty smart in the afternoon light.
On day five, I turned on my Weather Watch radio and listened as Dr. Bambi, the meteorologist, told us that a major snow event was coming our way. This made me sing out loud…Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow. I adjusted a bulb on the tree. Pretty smart, I said to no one.
On day six, I sat down and watched It’s A Wonderful Life on TCM. I always cry at the part when George tries to find Mary, his wife. But not sad tears, happy tears, if such things exist. I felt good as I wiped away the salt from my cheeks.
On day seven, I was back on TCM. This time I saw Sleepless in Seattle for the twelfth time. I cried, as usual, when Tom Hanks almost misses Meg Ryan on top of the Empire State Building. I smiled at the happy ending. I turned to my tree and said: Great movie. I know, I thought the tree had spoken to me.
On day eight, I stopped in at The Clarence Tavern to see an old friend. She had just put a dollar in the juke box and was listening to Honky Tonk Woman. Such a nice old song, I said. But a tad old, don’t ya think, Carla? I had a shandy and got up to leave. You know, I had a vision last night, she said. The Rolling Stones were going to have another #1 hit someday in the future. Ha, I said as I headed for the door. In your dreams, I said. Merry Christmas, she said.. Back to you, I said.
On day nine, I sat and watched the Evening News at Six. I had put a cup of water in the stand of my tree. Hey, some habits are hard to break. I smiled. The News showed a clip of cars in some city to the west sliding down a hill while the snow fell. They played Paul Simon’s Slip Slidin’ Away. It was funny. No one was hurt, just fenders bent. I tweaked a plastic branch on my tree and laughed.
On day ten, I heard that the New York Giants were going to be playing in the Superbowl. I laughed and smiled. Must be someone’s idea of a practical joke, I thought. I watered my tree again. While bending over, I noticed three pine needles on the shag carpet. Imports, I said, with a laugh.
On day eleven, the doorbell rang. It was the little girl and her mom. The child handed me a candy cane and the mother passed a bag over her daughter’s head. It was a bottle. I almost cried from pure joy. I closed the door and immediately the scent of pine and evergreen and balsam hit my nose. Must be the candy cane, I thought. I laughed. I hung the child’s gift on the branch below the star. The tree felt funny.
On day twelve, I brought a mug of Oolong tea into the living room to play the Dylan Christmas album again. The scent of pine was overwhelming. I went over to the tree…
A small miracle had occurred in my apartment. The plastic had turned into real needles and real wood. It wasn’t a small miracle, it was a mind-blowing major event. The doorbell rang. The carolers were there. I invited them in. My friend Carla stepped in behind them. My friend Bob was a minute late. I put on Dylan. We sang It Must Be Santa Claus, White Christmas, Silent Night and Deck the Halls and more than a few Hanukkah songs. I was out of tune but everyone else sounded like angels. We lit more candles. I lit my tree. A father helped his little very observant daughter lite the Menorah. We turned down the lights and sang until the end of time…which was ten o’clock. They all left me alone with my tree. I couldn’t stop laughing.
I can’t say my tree resembled the one at Rockefeller Center, but it was real and it was here. Still scrawny, but very real.
Everyone had a great time. I’m so glad they all got my invitation.
I turned out all the lights and walked in the near-dark to the sofa. I wanted to leave the tree lights on. I settled into my plush pillow, pulled my Irish throw over my legs and put my earbuds in. I couldn’t get enough Christmas music. I closed my eyes.
Softly, ever so softly, almost mutely, hushed, gentle and with sweetness, I heard my tree, my Tiny Tim Tree say “God Bless us Every One”.