PVCC: Spectrum

Holiday Reflection:
It's Just Not Christmas Without A Tree
By Raymond J. Jemison Jr.

Everyone has a story of one of life’s most embarrassing moments. You know what I mean. You do something which didn’t seem stupid at the moment, but after some time you tend to laugh at yourself. Here is one for the books. I dedicate this to Martin James Gordon.

I moved to Houston from Pittsburgh in 1980 and met Marty in the spring of 1981. We immediately fell in love, and after a brief three months, we moved in together. Everything was wonderful. We celebrated the holidays with great fanfare: Halloween in costumes, Valentine’s Day with a candlelight dinner, and Christmas with a tree and presents. It was wonderful.

In 1983, we moved from our one-bedroom apartment to a seven-room house. The move was a bit much. We had to adjust to the new bills and other responsibilities involved with a house. In other words, we had to get used to being broke from time to time. And then Christmas-time came.

I was so used to having a tree that I just couldn’t wait to go shopping for that infamous Christmas tree. And then Marty broke the news to me. We couldn’t afford a tree that year. We would have to do without. I was crushed. Christmas without a tree just wasn’t Christmas. What was the use of celebrating the holiday?

Then I got an idea. I had a talk with the guy who lived next door and convinced him to take me out to the woods so I could cut down a tree (being the outdoorsman that I am). I really didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I wanted a tree. I chose one which really reminded me of the tree on A Charlie Brown Christmas. But I cut it down and took it home.

When Marty arrived home from work, he was greeted with a trail of pine needles starting from the back door and extending through the kitchen and into the dining-room. There, in the corner, stood this scrawny tree, decorated with blue bulbs and white lights. He took one look, kissed me gently on the lips and told me to get in the car. He drove me to a tree lot and purchased a six-foot tree.

We decorated the tree that night and sat back and looked at it until I got sleepy. We didn’t buy many presents that year, but we had the spirit of Christmas in that house. We had two more Christmases together after that. However, that was the one I remember the most.

Marty passed away in 1988, but I’ll always be grateful for that wonderful Christmas in 1983 when just a simple gesture showed me how much I was willing to go through to keep a Christmas tradition alive. Merry Christmas, everyone.

Tell us what you think. Write Spectrum at editor@mcckc.edu.

Return to Front Page