We Wore Red for Christmas

by Pat Biasotti

Our family’s 40-year tradition of going to cut the Christmas tree ended abruptly in 1991.. That year, myself, our son, and our grandchildren found the perfect tree on a hillside where the weeds had been neatly mowed. However, among them had been poison oak, and we all broke out in Christmas “red”.  My husband had protested for years about our “wasting” natural resources (although we usually went to tree farms), asking why I wouldn’t settle for an artificial tree. My reply: “When I see one that looks truly natural, I’ll buy it.”  Plus, that year, adding insult to injury, “Old Grumpy” was the only one not getting an itchy red rash for Christmas.

I had my revenge.  The day after Christmas, I was at a Christmas store when it opened, purchased a gorgeous $400 tree (terribly expensive in 1991) for half price, but left on the original price tag.  Husband’s smile when I brought home that boxed tree quickly turned to apoplexy on seeing the price tag.  Happy ending to the story: that tree more than paid for itself with seventeen years of use before finally falling apart in 1998.