Dumpster Diving on Christmas!

I get very tense this time of year, because sooner or later my Mom will ask us the inevitable, stress-inducing question: So did you get your tree yet? She knows the answer, but still continues to question us, out of love or just plain hope, I'm not sure. My answer has always been a meek No, although sometimes my response varies with Well, we're still shopping around. (Lies, all lies, as the tree never materializes).

We've heard some fairly good arguments in favor of buying real trees over the years.

(1) The supply of Christmas trees is already there, and it's better to use those freshly cut trees rather than waste them. (There are many logic problems in this argument, but it's Christmas, so I'll be nice and just say this: that's stupid).

(2) Trees are a renewable resource. (Good argument - I agree here).

(3) Tree farms are good because they save land that might be used for cancer-like suburban development.

Point number three had me sold, only we just couldn't get ourselves to actually purchase the tree. We'd drive by the tree lots on a nightly stake-out, and then promptly tool away, promising to return on Christmas Eve, when more Charlie Brown styles were available.

In Casey's formative years, he was traumatized by a story about an animated Christmas tree who was chopped down from his native forest, decorated and accessorized by a seemingly loving family in the suburbs, only to be discarded in a heap the day after Christmas, dessicating in the dry winter air. I never read that story, but have always felt my heart break at the sight of tree carcasses peppering the neighborhood streets in the post-Christmas days. The stubborn strands of tinsel that float in the early morning breeze remind me of the halcyon days of Christmas.

Our ethical dilemna was solved yesterday, when, driving home from Estes Park, we noticed a heap of Christmas trees outside the local ice rink. Apparently, last week's "Ice Capades" show required some holiday props, and five "gently used" fir trees were part of the mix. Casey and I shared a knowing glance, and without hesitation, went inside to get permission from the ice rink peeps to take a tree. We hoisted our new friend up onto the roof, and with one hand out the car window to secure "Herbert", we drove home gleefully leaving a trail of tinsel in our wake.

This is going to be the best Christmas ever!