The 1st Christmas Tree (that I remember anyway)

I remember one night in early December my dad told me that we were going to go pick out a Christmas tree. I was a little boy.

We got in his car and drove down the main street in Story City, Iowa and pulled into a parking spot just past the By-Lo grocery store on the north side of the street. It was around where the post office is located today. 

It was all of a 5-minute drive from our home.

And there before us was an abandoned lot lined with beautiful, tall, green Christmas trees. 

I held my dad’s hand and walked across the sidewalk and into the abandoned lot. It was cold outside. I could see my breath. And it was dark. I was little. I didn’t often go outside in the night time.

And it was just my dad and I. That made it extra special.

I had never seen such a site before! Tall Christmas trees everywhere! Everywhere!!

The rich smell of pine was intoxicating. There were those old-fashioned white lights hanging from strings going across the lot, illuminating the trees. There was an empty oil drum in the center of the lot with fire coming out of the top from the chunks of wood burning to keep us warm. And there was a man standing there with several layers of clothes and gloves showing us the different trees. I know my dad knew him. I think he went to our church.

Being a little kid this was just pure magic; Something out of a fantasy!

It was like the rest of downtown was like it always was, but this little abandoned lot was this vortex of Christmas magic. Tall trees everywhere with the smell of the wood burning and the smell of Christmas trees.

The man showed us a bunch of trees before dad decided on one. He asked me, “What do you think?” I nodded! “Yes! It’s perfect!”

The man tied the tree up and put it on top of our car. Dad paid the man and we took the tree home. I could barely contain myself from all the excitement of picking out a tree.

When we got home, my dad took the tree from the car and carried it into the basement. There he cut the twine binding the tree and set it in a big bucket under the shower. He turned the shower on telling me we were going to let the tree soak up water to keep it fresh.

He told me we’d leave our Christmas tree in the shower for the night and take it upstairs the following night to set it up in the living room.

It felt like an actual person had moved into our home.

And the following night he carried the tree upstairs and anchored the trunk in the tree stand. I could not believe how beautiful our tree was. It was huge! (I was little) And it smelled so good!

Tonight I’m just remembering that special cold evening, walking around that abandoned lot, surrounded by Christmas trees and the strings of big, white lights.

It is such a magical memory, remembered through the eyes of a little boy.

May the heart of that little boy forever remember holding his dad’s hand and seeing the magic in a Christmas tree.