Cutting down the tree .......................................Tara Erwin

Treasured tradition

Cutting down the Christmas tree

STORY AND PHOTOS BY TARA ERWIN

“W e’re kicking off our fun old-fashioned family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh to embrace the frosty majesty of the winter landscape and select that most important of Christmas symbols.”

So said Clark Griswold in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, but it could have been the Erwin family in any given year. Even though there are tree lots on practically every corner— and artificial trees that look like the real thing and come pre-lit—my husband will accept nothing less than trekking out into the snow-covered hills of the countryside, selecting the perfect tree, having our boys help him cut it down, and affixing it to the top of our “all-wheel drive sleigh.”

For my Clark Griswold, part of the experience of getting the tree is that it requires half a day, long underwear, homemade chili—and lots of patience.

We’ve been going to Bird Haven Christmas Tree Farm in Warsaw for that most important of Christmas symbols since we were living as an engaged couple in our first apartment back in the early aughts. My family had toggled between foraging in the attic for our boxed Scotch pine or foraging at a lot near our suburban home, but my Clark had grown up with an artificial tree and scoffed at my suggestion to invest in anything less than the real thing: “We’ll have no fake tree in our home.”

He explained later that the experience of bundling up, driving past pristine white fields, and DIY’ing a fresh Christmas tree evokes the authenticity he wants for him and his family. Just as he would never go to a restaurant for Christmas dinner or hire a personal shopper to complete Santa’s list, he would never buy a fake tree as a shortcut to a cute and homey holiday. Think Norman Rockwell with a hacksaw.

I have a much more pragmatic attitude toward celebrating Christmas and think we should take advantage of modern amenities, but I admit trekking to the country and cutting down our own tree has a quaintness I’ve learned to embrace, especially since having children. When they were infants and toddlers, I wasn’t brave enough to skip that sacred naptime but once they reached preschool, I was game to try, and it’s become a treasured tradition they look forward to.

Like my husband, our boys revel in being the first to spot what they think should be the year’s Erwin Family Christmas Tree. They ignore my misgivings that it probably won’t fit in our family room, and, with supervision, help cut it down. As they got older, they debated the merits of Fraser Fir versus Norway Spruce, tried to remember which variety smells like oranges (Concolor Fir), and argued over whose turn it was to ensure the tree had a constant water supply in its crucial first days in our home.

Our group is sometimes larger than our family alone. When schedules allow, we’ve caravanned with friends. Parents have joined us, and I love seeing them experience the occasion through their grandchildren’s eyes (I’m also in awe of them braving the cold!).

After the trees are tagged and while we wait for the workers to bring them to the bundling station, we warm ourselves by a cheery bonfire and enjoy hot chocolate or homemade chili. Once the trees are loaded onto the bed of our friend’s father’s pickup truck, we top off the excursion by breaking out the portable grill, Sahlen’s hot dogs, and some sides for a quick tailgate

lunch before heading back. Thankfully we’ve never gotten stuck under an eighteen-wheeler on the trip home like the Griswolds and, once home, no squirrels have ever jumped out of the branches to attack us.

I was a kid when National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation came out but as an adult with a family, I appreciate Clark’s unwavering mission to give his family a magical, old-fashioned Christmas. It may be more convenient to go to a lot or snap together a pre-lit tree, but for us, it’s about making each year’s Christmas tree our own. FY

Tara Erwin lives and writes in Western New York.