I am going to post a short little story I posted on my Facebook as a note, I am challenging myself to blog more often. Actually I signed up for this 30 day challenge so that I would feel accountable. This should prove interesting, and I promise I will post pics, but right now you are getting a Christmas tree story worthy of Ralphie stickin his tongue on a flagpole!
I am hoping not being a perfectionist about posting will help me to not feel as though I have to post these long drawn out ideas.
We were children of divorce, latch key kids and poor. We were the only ones to live in a apartment in a town of less than 2000. We were city kids transported into a town that had only a beer distributor, gas station and a post office. We were the only kids that didn’t have a parental unit at home when there was an in-service or snow day or during summer.
These are my brother’s and my stories, of a time when you could grow up without being afraid.
The Christmas Tree
The town we lived in was a old coal mining area, meaning there were lots of areas that were just chock full of fir trees planted by the companies that mined those areas, that during the months of November and December were fair game as Christmas Trees. My brother, Ira and I were usually sent out by my mother to go pick one out and saw it down, we had done this for years, I don’t remember ever buying a tree. One particular year my best friend Jenny came along (as it was rare we were ever apart). Ira had the saw and I had the rope. We looked for hours and it seemed days to us (we were 14) before I shouted “There it is Ira!”. He looked and looked and finally said “Where?”.
“The top, right there can you get the top of that tree?”
“ You go up the tree and I will hand you the saw Mandy”
“Fine”, and up the tree I went excited with the idea of finally finding a tree.
Ira handed me the saw and saw as I might, it wasn’t coming down.
At this point all three of us were irritated, and I don’t know who said it but I think it was my brother “ I am going to get my shot gun”.
“What?”
“We are never going to get to saw thru that thing the whole way and I am not climbing that tree.” “ I can use the gun and shoot the sucker down.”
Being the 14 year olds we were, Jenny and I just stood there and said “Fine, we will wait here.”
Back comes Ira trapsing up the strippins hill with his gun telling me to point to the area I want the tree cut off at, which I point to of course because now I am cold.
I still remember seeing my brother take aim at that tree and thinking this is crazy who does this? At the same time Jenny has decided to pull me further away from the tree and chant while giggling “Shoot down the tree ya, shoot down the tree ya.”
One shot was all it took, the tree came down and we were on our way home.
When mom asked why the tree trunk was so mangled I looked at Ira, Ira looked at me and Jenny said “ we shot it.”
I know that was one of the few times my mother probably thought to herself that moving us to the boonies wasn’t any safer than living 25 minutes from New York City.
Here is a pic of me and Ira when we were little- can you tell I was in charge?
