The Gift

BOILING STONES
(Things a man can do in the kitchen)
© December 14, 2009
By: George O. Martin, Jr.

The Gift

Christmas Past: It was my mother who did our tree, but in that particular year I helped with all the deftness of any 5 year old. Dad was at work, my sister was with her boy friend and my two brothers, 11 and 13, were outside with a shovel trying to help the milkman free his delivery truck from the Buffalo snow. I wasn’t big enough for anything like that.
Earlier though, I was big enough to go with our mother to the corner store where Mr. Springer had a few Christmas trees to choose from. We took the least expensive, a short needled balsam. As she counted out the money Mom asked about Mrs. Springer, and after the grocer told her how his wife was, she said, “I will have one of the boys bring the other dime tomorrow, if that is all right; and tell her I hope things will be better in the New Year.” He nodded agreement and we carried the tree to our house.
We didn’t have a tree stand, and something had to be done before we could put it in the living room. Mom searched the basement and brought up an old grocery crate. And with one swift blow a hammer took out the middle board of the bottom. Then with the bottom up she stood the tree trunk into the opening. I got the ball of jute twine for her and the two of us twisted and tied the string all round until the tree was strait and somewhat secure. An old white sheet was used to cover all the coarse support
The two strings of lights were added, and the old glass ornaments were carefully hung on the branches with bent hair pins. I plugged in the lights, and as we stood back to admire the glow of all 24 bulbs, the tree slowly began to lean toward the wall, and then stopped just short of toppling. When we started breathing again Mom said, “I think it will stay there; and it looks just fine. Thanks for helping me.” I thought it looked fine, too.
Christmas present: Asher is not quite fifteen months old, but his ability to climb underneath, or on top of anything is becoming legendary; and we were concerned when the mother of this house started to decorate our Christmas tree. It is a beautiful Fraser Fir, and when placed into the tree stand looked perfect. This small grandson was agog, and we immediately wondered how long it would take for him to want to climb to the top.
Asher and his mother and dad live with us now. It is one of those things that happened to many new families when the economy failed and work became scarce. We have the room, and the chance to have the boy close and watch him grow was taken quickly. When they first came he was rolling and scooting from place to place. Then one day he got up on his hands and knees and discovered crawling, and a new speed, and mobility. We laughed and looked with wonder as he discovered new places in previously uncharted territory. Standing came next, followed by a few steps, and then more, then a flurry that looked like running, and then, yes it was running. Our own glee changed at that time, and we began the job of child-proofing our home. Now we watched and worried about our handsome Christmas tree. Asher’s eyes still widen when we turn on multitude of tiny white lights. It is a joy to see; and the tree will be child proof; and Christmas will be new to someone here this year.
Christmas Future: “She always did! In fact she insisted on it. She always had a real Christmas tree. I don’t know where she got the idea but, well, you know how stubborn she is. There are certain things that have to be just so, and having a real tree is always one of them.”
“Don’t you suppose she has one already then? I mean if it is so important to her I am sure she has seen to getting one.” said the woman with him.
“No. I don’t think so.” He replied. “She hasn’t been out of the house for a long time. The neighbors look in on her and do errands and such, but I don’t think they would have done that, not a tree.”
He turned the car into the old neighborhood, went to the middle of the block and parked. Both got out and began to untie the tree on the top of the car. The snow had been shoveled from the walk and there was a light in the window of the house. He rang the door bell.
After a moment a young boy answered, and said, “Is your name Asher? The lady said you would come. Come in. she is waiting for you.” he said. They left the tree on the porch beside the door and went inside.
There they were greeted with warm embraces and teary smiles. Soon the man’s lady said, “Asher, look” and she gestured to the corner of the room. There stood a slender balsam tree, leaning slightly toward the wall. Beneath it was an old white bed sheet which appeared to be covering a box.
“We did it together” the boy said. “Not very straight, but it’s the first time I’ve ever put up a Christmas tree. I think it looks fine”
Asher said, “I think so, too” he said looking at the old woman, who nodded to him from her chair.