Christmas Tree Killings

Guilt is a pretty powerful emotion. Moms know this and, by the time you are old enough to say 'I'm sorry', you know it too. And there are a lot of things to feel guilty for in life: opening the Christmas-wrapped Spider-man comic book, rewrapping it, and then only confessing after you'd been accused and found guilty; eating all 63 of your brother's Easter jellybeans because you'd previousy gorged on your own; murder...

Okay, so that last one seems a bit extreme, and I recognize that I'm crawling way out on the Christmas tree limb here, but I have come to realize that I am not a fan of a live Christmas tree being hacked out of the forest, used for two weeks (tops), and cavalierly thrown aside with egg shells and grease drippings.

My father and oldest sister have asthma, so growing up, we could never have a real (I dare not say 'live') Christmas tree for a few days before having to throw it out to ensure my sibling and papi continued to breathe. Eventually, we got a fake tree and have used one of those ever since. But two Christmases ago, I was living in Montana with a native-Montanan for a roommate. I also worked with people from Montana and they always went out into the forest, picked their own tree, cut it down, and hauled it back to the house. I even knew of a family who looked for the biggest they could find so that it would scrape the top of their vaulted ceiling. A co-worker and her husband invited my friend and I to come with them and, seduced by many years of hallmark and the thought of a real, live, pine-scenty tree, we succumbed.

The first step in a Christmas tree killing was to buy the tag. Yep, just like when you go hunting. The Forest Service sells them for $5.00 each. Definitely a better deal than elk hunting. Early one Saturday morning at the beginning of Christmas, she and I awoke and dressed in all the warm layers we could find, got in my coworker's truck, and drove out somewhere into the beyond. For hours we all trekked up hills and down, saw where a forest fire had wiped out life and how it came back again.

A snow-covered valley, flush with early afternoon light. A silence which only heavy snow can produce, nature holds its breath. I sat down on a tree stump and looked around. The sight was truly breathtaking (not just because my legs and lungs were giving out). As my co-worker, husband, and roommate began looking at trees, I continued to sit. And suddenly that silence, broken only by shouts of tree sizes and unwrapping of saws and ropes, seemed a bit sad to me. Montana has forest fires every year. Some quite severe. These trees had survived. They had survived devastating fire, and Japanese pine beetle, drought, animal maulings, all other forms of disease and insect, and the woodsman's ax. Year after precarious year they had lived this way. And now they were going to die for $5.00, so my roommate and I could have a tree for a few weeks. They would never again be home to birds and small animals, they would never provide shelter or food, never reach for the sky, never purify the air and soil. They would die because of tradition. Not even my tradition. I felt awful. My head hurt. My eyes grew heavy. My body ached. Was I linked to the trees? Had I somehow tapped into the spirit of the forest, sharing an awareness of death?

The trees were chosen. The ax came down. Again and again and again. Two trees fell. Rope encircled branches, binding tighter and tighter. Thrown on to two sleds, the trees seemed smaller, diminished. No longer a part of the great life that surrounded them. We began the long haul back to the car. Up hill and down. Each step became harder. I grew disproportionately weaker than each hill should have made me. Trance-like, I kept one foot in front of the other only with effort. Finally, salvation. An old blue truck. The trees loaded, we headed back down the mountain. My eyes closed.

Opening them again, we had reached our apartment. Enter the tree. We decorated it with ornaments we had on hand. I declined the firm Christmas party in lieu of five hours of sleep and a week of the flu. The tree was gone with neighbors' turkey and mistletoe.

Do I oppose Christmas trees? No. Do I think anything negative of people who have real ones? No. But in that moment, sitting out there in the snowy silence, thinking about all it took to grow even one of those trees, I realized how special they really are. That they are, in fact, more significant than two weeks can give. I believe the best hunters are respectful. They understand that they are taking something's life to continue their own. They do not waste an animal, they do not poach, and they do not help others do so. They respect the natural environment and do their best not to disturb the land and keep it healthy for life to continue. But I also know that not everyone is a hunter. Some people get their meat from a grocery store. Some people eat tofu. And Christmas trees are the same. Some find it incredibly significant to go with family and friends into the forest. Others enjoy the local tree lot where every tree is guaranteed to be wide and fluffy. Still others have opted for fake (yet surprisingly real-looking) trees.

As for me, when I have my own apartment again, I've decided that I would like to buy a tree sometime in the summer. Let it grow indoors and decorate it come Christmas. The following spring, I will grab some friends and find a quiet little mountain valley. There, I will leave a piece of Christmas to grow, my tradition for many years to come.

Carriers

Last night I watched the movie, Carriers. I can see why it went almost straight to dvd. It isn't that the acting was bad, I think they played their parts well. It wasn't that what happened wasn't realistic. It was. And that, in fact, was the problem. It was realistic in an 'all the main characters do all the wrong things and then most of them die' sort've way. (Yes, sorry, spoiler alert.) And because of that, there is no real hope, either for the characters or for humanity. In fact, it is the main characters' loss of their humanity that is the most depressing of all.

So, in honor of a really depressing movie about a pandemic that pretty much wipes out humanity (though not nearly so tear-inducing as I Am Legend when he lost his dog, yes, I wept), I thought I would write a blog on things to do/remember in the event of a major pandemic with 100% fatality.

First, keep in mind that there are no rules. Only common sense and compassion. If you lose either one, you will most likely die when you either do something stupid which catches up to you or you do something cruel which comes back to bite you. Keeping a set of rules is too rigid and doesn't take into account that at some point you will likely be on the other end. Also, if your rules are flawed, your plan is flawed. A flawed plan gets you killed. They had rules: the sick are already dead. Consequently, whenever anyone got sick, they were afraid to tell (allowing them to infect even more people) and they left them behind. This included parents, a man and his daughter, a girlfriend, a brother...everyone who tied them to any real reason for life. They left them sick and helpless and with no supplies and the knowledge that they were going to die, alone. One of humanity's worst fears. And they did it over and over again. And each time, they reinforced in their own mind the knowledge of what would happen to them. By the time they reach the beachhouse (more on that later) there isn't really any reason. They were going to hide there as family and loved ones. And all that was gone. In the end what they reached was a place, devoid of all meaning beyond a haunting reminder of what they had left behind; themselves.

Now for the other things they did wrong (the short list): 1) they put facemasks on after they enter buildings (it's a plague people, very contagious, and 100% fatal--put the masks on BEFORE you enter the obviously contaminated building); 2) upon entering every building, they yell out (maybe alerting others to your presence isn't a good idea, after all, you're a looter, maybe someone else has the same playbook); 3) they have only one weapon between them--a gun (you just watched someone get hunted down and shot by 'sport hunters', shouldn't you at least have a baseball bat?); 4) they stole a Malibu (a Malibu? THIS is your choice for post-apocalyptic vehicles? Seriously?); 5) they never get supplies ahead of time (note: get food and medication before you are starving or bleeding from a gunshot wound, and always get it when it's available); 6) they have no plan beyond the beach (do you fish? b/c if not, maybe the beach isn't the best choice. Maybe say, mountains, or places with water you can actually drink.)...

There were lots of other things done wrong. Truth is, most disaster movies are great b/c they teach you not what you SHOULD do, but you SHOULDN'T do. They're like Grimm brothers' fairy tales, only with explosions and monsters. Don't talk to wolves dressed like grandmas (or carry an ax if you do), don't kill geese that lay golden eggs (just trick them into thinking we have 12, not 24 hour, days), don't take up sewing or anything that involves sharp objects (though napping IS a good idea for beauty enhancement), and never eat apples (save those for teachers the day before your big final).

So in the end, Carriers may not be the best movie to watch with the kids, nor does it serve as a model for disaster (try the tv series Surviving Disaster for that), but it may be the best thing to watch to remind you of the importance of preparedness and humanity. With the first, you need not fear. With the second, you need not become what we fear. In the end, saving humanity is done only by saving it individually. Not exactly Christmastime material, but a valuable message nonetheless.

Costco Living

Now that the holidays are here, the Costco trip becomes a little more packed with chocolatey-goodness and a little less with triskets. I enjoy Costco. And, if I ever decided to write a teen adventure novel, it would probably involve a kid finding a way to live at Costco. For only a hundred bucks a year or so, he or she would have it made. There's the really comfy leather chairs and tv set to watch your favorite movie at 3am when security has called it quits. Next you have all the clothes and beds and blankets. You have bathrooms. You have food. You even have electrical equipment. If you could somehow carve yourself a little room in the midst of all the stacks of tp, I think you could pull it off. And of course, in order to write accurately, I'd need to try it myself (it just wouldn't be right to pen a novel with no real experience eh?). I could hire a lawyer from my jail cell. I could probably even turn that experience into a novel and then, of course, the talk shows and autobiography. As I sit here and think about it, I could probably get at least 3-5 books out of Costco living. Hmmm.

In the meantime, I will simply enjoy the free snacks. Today's delectable? Strawberry shortbread cookies. Who knew the same Spunkmeier that makes white chocolate macadamia would now put fruit into their sugar cookies. Suddenly, a sugar cookie falls into a major food group. Oh, you could drink a v8. Or, you could eat about 6 strawberry shortcake cookies. They have real pieces of strawberry in them. I'm not making this up. Go try it. Delicious! Also good, the meatball with pineapple inside it (or what I am sincerely hoping was pineapple). Tasty. And I'm not a big fan of weird pig parts blended together and shoved inside an intestine. (Now that I've described it that way, you probably aren't either.) Cinnamon raisin toast. Cinnamon raisin english muffin. (Both tasting remarkably similar. No surprise there.) My sister enjoyed the shrimp skampi. I myself avoid things that crawl on the bottom of the ocean and resort to cannibalism and garbage for late night snacks. She said it was delicious. I'll take her word for it.

I once heard that a guy took his date to Costco to eat. Yep, free snacks. I'm not sure if this is ingenious or tacky. I think it depends on the guy and the girl. It could be kind've fun. You could even bring disguises and challenge each other to see who can stop by the SAME snack area without the Costco employee catching on. You'd just have to watch out for security of course. Then again, that might add to the experience. Who knows.

Well, enjoy your big food stores. Eat your fruits and vegetables. Try to stay out of jail. But if you do go to the pokey, turn it into a money maker. It's important to bloom where you're planted.