Growing up we had a 4-foot-nothing Christmas tree. My parents bought it when they were newlyweds. After several years, my parents decided to upgrade. They donated the tree to the church, and then we tried out a real Christmas tree. When my parents offered the tree to the church, I do not think that they realized how pathetic looking the tree was. After a year of displaying the tree (mostly to please my parents), they gave the tree back to us. Much to my dismay, we were stuck with the pathetic looking tree again. Then my father decided that the tree was meant to be one of our Christmas traditions, so we have used it ever since.
Now, you may be thinking to yourself, “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.” To which I say, yes, yes it is that bad (my parents still use it because of my
stubborn father who is “deeply rooted” in the tradition). There is not a pathetic enough picture to describe this tree, so I will try to describe it. Imagine a four-foot plastic stick with five “branches” sticking haphazardly out. There you go. You’ve got a pretty good idea.
That silly tree is my second least favorite tradition.
You want to know my least favorite “tradition”? My parents like to torture us on Christmas. The rule was that we were not allowed to wake my parents up Christmas morning. After five or so years of waking up at 4 a.m. and waiting for six hours, I finally realized that it did not make a difference. After my parents finally would get out of bed, we would then proceed to make the biggest breakfast ever. How sweet, right? No, my parents did it to take up more time. After about nine years of scarfing my food down, I realized that it did not make a difference either because no matter how much I begged, my dad would take as long of time as he needed. I swear, his food got cold every year because he took such small, slow bites. After we would all finish we would be able to open presents, right? Wrong. My dad would then have to set-up the video camera, which would take forever because he had a professional one, not just a hand-held tripod one.
Finally, we would be able to open up presents, which usually ended up being around noon.
Looking back at our family traditions, we all like to have a good laugh. My parents loved to mess with us. :)
Anyway, the reason why I am writing this is because Mom and Dad Alford took pity on us and gave us their old tree. (Thank you! Thank you so much!)
Kenneth and I were clearing a space in a living room, and he kept on pushing the couches further and further apart. I could not imagine a tree that could be big enough that would need that much space at the bottom. He kept saying, “Trust me. I grew up with this tree.” . . . and then I remembered the tree I grew up with, and it all made sense why I couldn’t imagine a big tree.