I was alone one night, feeling quite nostalgic and missing the time of holidays past. Times when our families were large and always gathered together for any and all holidays. Both grandmothers and Mom always cooked and baked the most delicious foods and desserts. Their faces glowed with happiness (or was that sweat on their brows?) as they would bring each bowl and platter to the table. Adults and children alike would ooh and aah over it all before filling their plates with each delectable morsel. It wasn’t just about the food. It was also about the house that was transformed each holiday with decorations, inside and out.

My favorite season began right after Thanksgiving when the coming of Christmas turned the neighborhood into a magical fairyland. The first sign was the Christmas lights strung on the houses, and then a lighted snowman or Santa Claus or Nativity set would appear on front porches or in yards. However, nothing surpassed the excitement of jumping into the car to go and find the Christmas tree.

In our household, this always happened on Christmas Eve, when the price of the tree was going to be a lot less than any other time in December. I always remember snow and feeling the cold no matter how warmly dressed we were. Neither the cold or snow hindered this exciting excursion each year. We all had a say on what determined the perfect tree: the height—not too short, not too tall, but able to get up the outside stairs and into the house; the fullness of the branches (again, not so full that you couldn’t get up the inside stairs and through the front door); straightness when you looked at it from all angles (you never got a leaner, a tree that leaned too much to the right or left); short needles or long.

This usually took several hours, but once we finally decided on a tree, we children ran back to the warmth of the car while poor Dad and Mom struggled with getting the tree to the car and tying it securely to the roof of the card for the drive home. More hours went by untying the tree from the car roof, getting the tree into the house, and watching Dad get the tree in the tree stand, making sure it was securely held upright by screws so it wouldn’t fall. Then, Mom's hot chocolate as we oohed and aahed over how pretty the tree looked.

One year, Dad decided on a different adventure in our quest to buy the best Christmas tree ever. Once Mom had the three of us dressed warmly, Dad got out the wooded sled and pulled his children a mile in the snow to Madison and Pulaski and the Goldblatt’s Christmas tree lot. The sled ride was fun, but the tree hunting was dismal. It was before dinner time on Christmas Eve and all the good trees were gone! There wasn’t a good tree to be had, and we were beginning to think that this would be the first Christmas without a tree. Tears were close to the surface. Then Dad spotted them—two Christmas tree halves! Seriously!

Each tree half looked lonely and forlorn, with its side full of branches, and the other completely bare. But Dad saw a whole tree. He pulled me aside and said, “Pat, I think I can tie these two tree halves together and we’ll have us one beautiful tree! What do you think?”

Well, I was kind of doubtful but figured dads can do just about anything. I quietly nodded my okay. Dad got those two tree halves for free, tied them to the sled, and we walked home, wondering what Mom was going to say. That shall go unmentioned, but once Dad worked his magic, that tree was big, tall, full and beautiful. (The tree is pictured on the right.)

I dubbed this tree the Charlie Brown tree that wasn’t, because we kept that tree alive and standing until only the bark was left. Sadly, after Charlie was gone, we never had another real pine-smelling tree in the house. We had fake silver trees on a rotating stand with different colored lights. The tree went from silver, to purple, to red, to yellow and blue. Next came the artificial green trees with its different branches you inserted into the tree pole. If you messed up, you could rearrange the branches until the fake tree finally resembled the real.

Then, the pièce de résistance! The flocked Christmas tree. I was pretty sure there was a real tree there somewhere, just covered with fake, er, flock snow. This tree always reminded me of a distant abominable snowman relative.

And I can never forget the Christmas tree in the front yard where the same family photo was taken at every, and I mean every, holiday or special occasion. There's the ceramic Christmas tree, the newlyweds' first Christmas tree and the quaint table Christmas tree.

Every year, once the Christmas tree was decorated with lights (colored or white or twinkling), heirloom ornaments (carefully handled), homemade ornaments from the loving hands of children, family and friends and garland (either new or homemade), we would turn off the house lights, plug in the Christmas lights and sing, "O Christmas Tree."

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
How lovely are your branches!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
How lovely are your branches!
Not only green in summer’s heat,
But also winter’s snow and sleet.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
How lovely are your branches!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
Of all the trees most lovely;
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
Of all the trees most lovely.