Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Just a Little Off the Top
1973 found me divorced in a new apartment. I didn't have a Christmas tree, and Dad said he was going to top the big pine in the front anyway, so if I'd help, I could have the cut-off piece. I stood on the ground and measured. "How's this?" Dad asked. "Fine!" I hollered back. He chain-sawed it and when the top fell to the ground it was 12 feet tall. "Oops," I said. We laughed until I fell over, sawed off another 8 feet, roped it on top of my car and it went home with me for Christmas. The girth took up most of my apartment, and when I hauled it out after the holiday, I scraped off fragrant needles 3 inches deep. It was grand.