The custom of displaying a decorated evergreen in one’s home is said to have originated in Germany or Central Europe (what is now known as Latvia) and is believed to have pagan roots. Some of these early peoples called themselves Druids and worshipped trees.
Winter is a season people must fight. This impulse seems to be universal.
When my father, the youngest in the family, grew up in East Harlem, his Christmas task involved staying up next to the tree with a bucket of sand. The tree was decorated with lighted candles. (He admitted to falling asleep.)
With the advent of electricity, people began adorning their trees with strings of Christmas lights. In the 1930s, some tree stands (now thankfully obsolete) featured a perilous mix of water and electrical components.
Our tree, as I remember, had bubble lights. My father used to wait until the very last minute to buy a tree. What entered the front door of our apartment late at night looked like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree—but improved under the lights, the ornaments, and the tinsel.
We did not serve the Italian Feast of the Seven Fishes; instead, we consumed an impossible spread that included ravioli, ziti, or lasagna, and a baked ham studded with pineapple and cloves.
One year my dad bought an aluminum tree. I barely remember it, and I have no idea where it is today. These have now become collectibles. One of KN’s Theories of Existence: “If you keep it long enough, virtually everything will become a collectible.”
Many people now innovate: some dye their trees red; others hang them from the ceiling. My own favorite tree was an artificial tabletop model—white—on which I placed white paper doves with magenta eyes, ribbons, and little star ornaments made of straw. I also once had a licensed Barbie tree (pink, of course!).
Do your own thing. Fight, fight against the dying of the light!
Kathryn Nocerino, New York