For some reason unknown to me, we decided one year to NOT buy a Christmas Tree. This would have likely been in the mid-1960’s, with me being somewhere around 4th-6th grade? As I recall, Billy Howland (who later became our step-brother) joined (led?) us on this adventure. Out into the “Great Cedar Swamp” we drove, following the dirt bog roads behind the old Ocean Spray Buildings – Me, Laurie, Wes (with his super 8mm camera to record the event), Billy, and Dad (and maybe Marlene and/or Eric?) (a review of the film should be enough to verify the facts). After much drive-spot-debate-drive-spot-debate, we eventually made a decision (or got too tired, cranky, and frustrated in the process and just settled for the next green tree we saw). The result was a very UN-traditional Cedar Tree – found a few feet off the side of the swamp road. Whether we chopped or sawed I’m not certain (again, let’s check the replay), but the was plenty of vocal cheerleading and “TIMBER”ing and general excitement. Onto the top of the car it went, and over the swamp roads and through the woods we headed back home. Now I would imagine that although a cedar tree is a very uncommon choice for a Christmas tree and I’m sure looked a little odd to any friends and relatives that visited (I’ll bet that any ribbing that my parents took over THAT was probably deftly blamed on us kids who “picked it”), I’ll bet the house smelled wonderful that year (not to mention the added bonus of not having to spend money on moth balls). But however unconventional it may have been, the excitement of adventuring off into the swamps to find and cut down our own tree stuck with us kids. Each year we couldn’t wait to go get our tree, and before long had added the “preseason warmup” adventure of going for a Thanksgiving hike to “spot” and “tag” our tree. After the first (or maybe second) year, we abandoned the Cedar tree for the fuller figured (‘tho still rather unconventional) common white pine. In our pre-season explorations, we learned to investigate locations where good sunshine would make the pine trees grow thicker and fuller at a “reasonably” short height. The railroad tracks, the fields, open spaces around the bogs, the boarders of sandpits were all viable options. Being able to drive reasonably close to it’s location was also of importance – Dad didn’t want to hike and carry too far, and Nenna liked to witness the event and bring our littlest brothers & sisters along too. Now in our family, SIZE MATTERED – A LOT. We regarded the size and uniqueness of our trees to be sort of a status symbol. People came from miles around to be amazed at our magnificent display of Christmas spirit. Each year we attempted to out-do ourselves – bigger was better. With so many siblings and relatives, we needed a lot of tree to place so many presents under. We also liked to sleep under the tree – 5-8 of us at a time depending on who was “old enough” and how many cousins were sleeping over. So we deliberately searched for the most impressive trees we could find – knowing that Dad (and later, Henry) would take a little off the top or off the bottom – whatever was required to get it to actually stand up in the front room.
One year Laurie and I decided it was time to get the tree (we had neglected to previously tag one that year), and as she now had her drivers license she was determined to drive somewhere to find the right one. For whatever reason, it was a “shorthanded expedition” with either just the two of us, or possibly with Marlene also along with us (I don’t recall her being along, but either she or Laurie claims she was). Laurie drove her old dark green car down Reed St, and pulled onto the bog entrance road across from the Hanson AA. Due to the amount of snow on the ground, we dared not attempt to go in more than 20 feet or so. So we hiked, and hiked, and hiked. Finally, in an open field beyond Bog 19 (side note:Bog 19 – at the time, the largest undivided cranberry bog in the world!) nearly to Elm St we found the PERFECT tree – fully round, thick with branches and needles. We knew that Henry would have to trim the height some, but that was always the case and being a little tall meant that he could determine whether to cut off the top or the bottom – whichever was best. So down it came with a thud.
We started the trek back to the car – over two miles of snow-covered dikes and bog roads which felt like an eternity. With great effort from our tired arms, we hoisted the prized tree onto the car roof and tied it down. It was a bit hard to see the road, peering through the windshield obstructed by pine branches, but we successfully made the mile-or-so drive back to Phillips St to show off our haul. The family came outside to evaluate our tree. Henry had us stand it up, tape measured it for height and width, got out HIS saw and removed 8 feet off of the overall height. Then he proceeded to trim some of the excess branches from the top. We never did out-do that tree, and Laurie and I never went by ourselves to pick out another.
Our trees were always such a conversation piece that on occasion, we kept them up longer if a dear friend or relative had not been able to stop by and see it yet. It was not unusual to see our tree finally being taken down in late January, although our record was the year we had hoped that cousin Tommy would get to see it when he got home from the Navy in April. Sometime around early March, Nenna decided that it was too much of a fire hazard and decided it had to go.
One year Laurie and I decided it was time to get the tree (we had neglected to previously tag one that year), and as she now had her drivers license she was determined to drive somewhere to find the right one. For whatever reason, it was a “shorthanded expedition” with either just the two of us, or possibly with Marlene also along with us (I don’t recall her being along, but either she or Laurie claims she was). Laurie drove her old dark green car down Reed St, and pulled onto the bog entrance road across from the Hanson AA. Due to the amount of snow on the ground, we dared not attempt to go in more than 20 feet or so. So we hiked, and hiked, and hiked. Finally, in an open field beyond Bog 19 (side note:Bog 19 – at the time, the largest undivided cranberry bog in the world!) nearly to Elm St we found the PERFECT tree – fully round, thick with branches and needles. We knew that Henry would have to trim the height some, but that was always the case and being a little tall meant that he could determine whether to cut off the top or the bottom – whichever was best. So down it came with a thud.
We started the trek back to the car – over two miles of snow-covered dikes and bog roads which felt like an eternity. With great effort from our tired arms, we hoisted the prized tree onto the car roof and tied it down. It was a bit hard to see the road, peering through the windshield obstructed by pine branches, but we successfully made the mile-or-so drive back to Phillips St to show off our haul. The family came outside to evaluate our tree. Henry had us stand it up, tape measured it for height and width, got out HIS saw and removed 8 feet off of the overall height. Then he proceeded to trim some of the excess branches from the top. We never did out-do that tree, and Laurie and I never went by ourselves to pick out another.Our trees were always such a conversation piece that on occasion, we kept them up longer if a dear friend or relative had not been able to stop by and see it yet. It was not unusual to see our tree finally being taken down in late January, although our record was the year we had hoped that cousin Tommy would get to see it when he got home from the Navy in April. Sometime around early March, Nenna decided that it was too much of a fire hazard and decided it had to go.
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