Growing up in a family that favored artificial Christmas trees, I have vivid memories of the post-Thanksgiving tradition. My family would haul down a weathered box from the attic, its masking tape barely holding it together. This was the ’80s, a time before pre-lit trees, so we would also dig out tangled strands of lights. Together, we spent hours shaping branches, assembling the tree, and checking the lights. Does this resonate with other artificial tree families?
Once our tree was set up, my siblings and I would head over to my grandmother’s house to repeat the process with her own faux tree. I can still picture her, hot glue gun in hand, carefully mending broken branches while peering through her bifocals. As a child, I imagined her tree being as old as the Mayflower, and as an adult, I might not be too far off the mark.
When I reflect on Christmas, the image of artificial trees comes to mind, along with the laughter and excitement shared with my siblings. I also recall the complaints, the times I burned my fingers with hot glue, and the pinches from those quirky branch hinges. Nevertheless, that tree had a certain charm, much like a well-used cooking pot that has absorbed countless holiday flavors.
Ironically, I found love while working at a Christmas tree lot alongside Jamie. The first time I held a real tree was at the local hardware store, where I unloaded them from a truck. I vividly remember the scent and was quite impressed by Jamie’s strength as she expertly managed to move those hefty trees.
When we got married, Jamie insisted on a real tree, and I was initially resistant. I wanted our Christmas to mirror my childhood experience, and the idea of buying a dead tree every year, only to deal with falling needles, seemed absurd. I expressed my concerns, and Jamie looked at me as if I had just insulted Santa Claus. “It’s not about the money. Christmas needs a real tree!” she declared. I rolled my eyes but eventually gave in.
During that first Christmas, I wasn’t fully swayed. Sure, the smell was pleasant, but the needles were a nuisance. We often forgot to water it, causing parts to brown, and I even broke our vacuum cleaning up after the holiday.
For a few years, Jamie and I debated the merits of real versus fake trees. We’d alternate between the two, sometimes bringing up environmental concerns. I argued against cutting down trees, while she pointed out the pitfalls of adding more plastic waste to landfills. Looking back, it’s amusing that we fought over this, as both sides have valid points.
It wasn’t until we had children that I began to shift from Team Fake to Team Real. Living in Oregon, we have a tree farm just a short drive away. Each year, we bundle up as a family, surrounded by snow and rows of evergreens, to pick out our tree. The elderly gentleman at the farm hands me a bow saw, and I put in a good effort to cut it down.
This experience is not quite like the Griswolds in Christmas Vacation; it’s more of a cozy family adventure. We load the tree into our old pickup and head home. Setting up the tree has become a cherished family tradition filled with the scent of pine and classic holiday music.
As a child, my Christmases revolved around a fake tree, which signaled the start of the festive season. Now, with my family, cutting down a real tree signifies the holiday spirit. I can already imagine my son, years from now, reminiscing about how much he disliked trudging into the woods to help with our tree, but I’m sure he’ll recount it with a smile.
The holidays come with their own set of pros and cons, but for now, I have made my choice in the Great Christmas Tree Debate: it’s real or nothing. I plan to continue this tradition as long as I can. If you have strong feelings about this topic, I invite you to share your own family traditions.
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In summary, the debate over real versus fake Christmas trees often boils down to personal preference and cherished family traditions. Whether you lean toward the artificial or embrace the real, the essence of the holiday season is about the memories we create with our loved ones.