Two Christmas Trees

TREE 1

It was December 15^th, 1971 a balmy 82 degrees; we were wearing tee shirts, shorts, and sandals. Our daughters, aged 3 and 5 years old, were beside themselves with seasonal excitement. They knew Christmas was coming, and had spent leisurely afternoons making paper chains, and macaroni and glitter decorations and together we had hand painted many wooden ornaments. Today, we were on our quest to find a Christmas tree in Caracas. We sought out nurseries and garden centers such as they were in Venezuela, but those were few and far between since the lovely sub-tropical temperatures gifted the country with year round fragrant brilliance in its many flowering trees and shrubs. Venezuela was one huge garden.

Larisa and Nikita were getting anxious about the tree. We could not find a fir of any style or size in any place we visited. In desperation, Ernest, my husband, thought of visiting a plant store.

Again, we were disappointed. We looked bleakly at each other over the heads of our children while he pointed out a huge six foot tropical plant in the corner. It had abundant large dark green leaves, strong limbs that would support our strings of tree lights that we had the foresight to bring with us from home. He asked the girls if they though that would do, explaining that, in Venezuela, many things were different from what we were used to at home. The five year old looked at it critically with her hands on her hips, and declared it only acceptable.

We lugged it home and placed it in front of our living room terrace windows. We carefully placed the strings of lights on its willing limbs, tied the ornaments on with wide red ribbons, and the kids strung their paper chains with great care. Larisa said, “Well, I guess if we love it enough, it will become a Christmas tree.” And it did, for our two Christmases in Caracas.

TREE 2

In December of 1975, we did have snow, lots of it. But this was Iran, not at all a Christmas country. The quest for a tree here would prove a challenge once again. I went with my friend Greta Mogle in search of places that might sell trees. Lo and behold, since there was a very large American and British presence in Tehran at that time, some smart entrepreneur managed to procure a fine supply of pine trees to sell to the many Christian foreigners in town. Though Greta was Jewish, she was enthusiastic about helping me find a tree. We selected a lovely tree, and tied it up on top of her car, and drove it home to our house in Shemiran, a northern suburb of the city, at the foothills of the Darban mountains.

We propped it in a bucket of water out on our side outdoor landing, and our next excursion was to locate a Christmas tree stand. We toured the bazaars, and shops, and came up empty. As the King of Siam once said, “It was a puzzlement”. My husband Ernest and I thought long and hard about how to set up this tree, as the holiday was upon us, and we had invited many people for a tree-trimming party. Greta’s family with two daughters, our Persian landlords downstairs, and their three boys, and other assorted friends, South Africans, and Indians. There would be lots of children.

A crazy decision was made after several glasses of wine; to suspend the tree from the ceiling, with its base just low enough to hang into a full bucket of water. It was a tricky installation, with picture wire looped among the branches, wound tightly together, and strung through steel loops we screwed high up into the walls and ceiling. It actually worked.

On party day, the guest began arriving, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, all to decorate our Christmas tree. The children, who could not give a fig about religions, eagerly dove into work at the craft table we set up to make decorations. Construction paper strips, glue jars, cardboard wreaths, wooden cutouts, paint jars, macaroni, glitter in many colors. The adults brought interesting items from the bazaar to hang on the tree. Miniature brass buckets, carved wooden spoons, embroidered tea coasters, tiny figurines. Others donated foods for our buffet.

It was a most unusual tree, swinging as it did while being adorned, the water in the bucket sloshing about making puddles on the floor. But the wires held as the children eagerly placed their creations in its boughs. When the decorating was completed, the tree was cheered by all participants. A fine and memorable tree it certainly was.