Uncle "I" and the Christmas Tree (1953)

This is one of those stories which I manage to work in every Christmas season. It speaks of tolerance and the only person I have ever known who loved me without condition. This day also has special significance, as it was always December 15^th when we put up the Christmas tree each year. There was never any variation to this rule. The tree arrived on the 15^th and was down before New Year’s.

I have always had a Christmas tree. My parents were a "mixed" marriage- my Dad was Irish Catholic and my Mom was Russian Jewish. I was raised in a home that had both a Christmas tree and Chanukah candles. Each year we would light the candles and place our spare change in a dish before it. On the eighth day we would count it up and write a check to the WOR Children’s Christmas Fund. This didn't seem strange to us- money from a Jewish holiday going to the Christmas Fund. Actually it made a lot of sense. It exemplified what the season is all about.

We also exchanged gifts on Christmas Day. And in our house there was no bigger fan of Christmas than my Uncle Irving.

Each year he took my brother and I to Radio City Music Hall to see the Christmas Show. If you have never seen it you have been cheated. It is completely religious in its scope with the Three Wise Men crossing the stage following a star to Bethlehem, including real Camels and Donkeys on the stage! And the Manger- bathed in blue light-was always sure to make my Uncle cry. It was that beautiful. But it wasn't always like that with him.

My parents were married in 1950. They lived with my Grandma Marcus and her brother Irving, my Uncle I, in an apartment on Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn until 1952. That’s when they got their first apartment together. It was in the same building on the 4th floor.

My Dad had always had a Christmas tree except for the last 2 years while living with my Mom and Grandma. This was going to be my Mom's first Christmas tree. Naturally, she was very excited and went downstairs to Apartment 3-B to invite Grandma, Uncle Irving and their maid, Mary, up to apartment 4-A to see it.

Irving wouldn’t go. He wouldn’t even budge. One flight up was one too many for him to stand before that “symbol of goyim idolatry.”

The following year saw the birth of my brother Mark. This was going to be his first Christmas and the excitement my parents felt was enormous. And; it turns out contagious.

As Christmas Eve approached Uncle Irving had still not come up to see the tree. That night Grandma and Mary went up to my parents to exchange gifts. Uncle Irving went reluctantly and at the insistence of my Grandmother.

The door opened and there stood the tree. There it was- the “goyim symbol” in all of its splendor. With big outdoor lights and a star at the top, dripping with tinsel and beckoning with its beauty, it mesmerized him. He drew near and felt the warmth and love of my parents coming from that tree. He saw the joy on my brother’s infant face. He turned away and walked out!

An hour or so later he came back, arms laden with toys for my brother and gifts for everyone. After that year- and for every year after until the end of his life- he was the first to ask, “When are we putting up the tree?”

Uncle "I" and the Tree.

I have always had a Christmas tree. My parents were a "mixed" marraige- my Dad was Irish Catholic and my Mom was Russian Jewish. I was raised in a home that had both a Christmas tree and Chanukah candles. Each year we would light the candles and place our spare change in a dish before it. On the eighth day we would count it up and write a check to the WOR Childrens Christmas Fund. This didn't seem strange to us- money from a Jewish hoilday going to the Christmas Fund. Actually it made a lot of sense. It exemplified what the season is all about.

We also exchanged gifts on Christmas Day. And in our house there was no bigger fan of Christmas than my Uncle Irving.

Each year he took my brother and I to Radio City Music Hall to see the Christmmas Show. If you have never seen it you have been cheated. It is completely religous in it's scope with the Three Wise Men crossing the stage following a star to Bethlehem, including real Camels and Donkeys on the stage! And the Manger- bathed in blue light-was always sure to make my Uncle cry. It was that beautiful. But it wasn't always like that with him.

My parents were married in 1950. They lived with my Grandma Marcus and her brother Irving, my Uncle I, in an apartment on Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn until 1952. That’s when they got their first apartment together. It was in the same building on the 4th floor.

My Dad had always had a Christmas tree except for the last 2 years while living with my Mom and Grandma. This was going to be my Mom's first Christmas tree. Naturally, she was very excited and went downstairs to Apartment 3-B to invite Grandma, Uncle Irving and their maid, Mary, up to apartment 4-A to see it.

Irving wouldn’t go. Wouldn’t budge. One flight up was one too many for him to stand before that “symbol of goyim idolatry.”

The following year saw the birth of my brother Mark. This was going to be his first Christmas and the excitement my parents felt was enormous. And contagious.

As Christmas Eve approached Uncle Irving had still not come up to see the tree. That night Grandma and Mary went up to my parents to exchange gifts. Uncle Irving went reluctantly and at the insistence of my Grandmother.

The door opened and there stood the tree. There it was- the “goyim symbol” in all of its splendor. With big outdoor lights and a star at the top, dripping with tinsel and beckoning with its beauty, it mesmerized him. He drew near and felt the warmth and love of my parents coming from that tree. He saw the joy on my brother’s infant face. He turned away and walked out!

An hour or so later he came back, arms laden with toys for my brother and gifts for everyone. After that year- and for every year after until the end of his life- he was the first to ask, “When are we putting up the tree?”

Uncle Irving and the Tree

I have always had a Christmas tree. My parents were a "mixed" marraige- my Dad was Irish Catholic and my Mom was Russian Jewish. I was raised in a home that had both a Christmas tree and Chanukah candles. Each year we would light the candles and place our spare change in a dish before it. On the eighth day we would count it up and write a check to the WOR Childrens Christmas Fund. This didn't seem strange to us- money from a Jewish hoilday going to the Christmas Fund. Actually it made a lot of sense. It exemplified what the season is all about. We also exchanged gifts on Christmas Day. And in our house there was no bigger fan of Christmas than my Uncle Irving.

Each year he took my brother and I to Radio City Music Hall to see the Christmmas Show. If you have never seen it you have been cheated. It is completely religous in it's scope with the Three Wise Men crossing the stage following a star to Bethlehem, including real Camels and Donkeys on the stage! And the Manger- bathed in blue light-was always sure to make my Uncle cry. It was that beautiful. But it wasn't always like that with him.

My parents were married in 1950. They lived with my Grandma Marcus and her brother Irving, my Uncle I, in an apartment on Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn until 1952. That’s when they got their first apartment together. It was in the same building on the 4th floor.

My Dad had always had a Christmas tree except for the last 2 years while living with my Mom and Grandma. This was going to be my Mom's first Christmas tree. Naturally, she was very excited and went downstairs to Apartment 3-B to invite Grandma, Uncle Irving and their maid, Mary, up to apartment 4-A to see it.

Irving wouldn’t go. Wouldn’t budge. One flight up was one too many for him to stand before that “symbol of goyim idolatry.”

The following year saw the birth of my brother Mark. This was going to be his first Christmas and the excitement my parents felt was enormous. And contagious.

As Christmas Eve approached Uncle Irving had still not come up to see the tree. That night Grandma and Mary went up to my parents to exchange gifts. Uncle Irving went reluctantly and at the insistence of my Grandmother.

The door opened and there stood the tree. There it was- the “goyim symbol” in all of its splendor. With big outdoor lights and a star at the top, dripping with tinsel and beckoning with its beauty, it mesmerized him. He drew near and felt the warmth and love of my parents coming from that tree. He saw the joy on my brother’s infant face. He turned away and walked out!

An hour or so later he came back, arms laden with toys for my brother and gifts for everyone. After that year- and for every year after until the end of his life- he was the first to ask, “When are we putting up the tree?”

The Christmas Tree from "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn" by Betty Smith

This is from my favorite book ever written, "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn" by Betty Smith. I actually keep extra copies on hand to give away. This text is from the 1943 Harper & Brothers 5th Edition. To me, this portion of the book represents something which lies beyond each of our exteriors; the true essence of who we are as individuals; in this case it is the "tree man", who is emblematic of us all; both wanting to give more, yet keenly aware of our own need to survive what is, indeed at times, “...a God-damned, rotten, lousy world!” All the more reason to give what you can to those in need during this holiday season.

There was a cruel custom in the neighborhood. It was about the trees still unsold when midnight of Christmas Eve approached. There was a saying that if you waited until then, you wouldn’t have to buy a tree; that “they’d chuck ‘em at you.” This was literally true.

At midnight on the Eve of our dear Saviour's birth, the kids gathered where there were unsold trees. The man threw each tree in turn, starting with the biggest. Kids volunteered to stand up against the throwing. If a boy didn’t fall down under the impact, the tree was his. If he fell, he forfeited his chance at winning a tree. Only the roughest boys and some of the young men elected to be hit by the big trees. The others waited shrewdly until a tree came up that they could stand against. The littlest kids waited for the tiny, foot-high trees and shrieked in delight when they won one.

On the Christmas Eve when Francie was ten and Neely nine, mama consented to let them go down and have their first try for a tree. Francie had picked out her tree earlier in the day. She had stood near it all afternoon and evening praying that no one would buy it. To her joy it was still there at midnight. It was the biggest tree in the neighborhood and its price was so high that no one could afford to buy it. It was ten feet high. Its branches were bound with new white rope and it came to a sure pure point at the top.

The man took this tree out first. Before Francie could speak up, a neighborhood bully, a boy of eighteen known as Punky Perkins, stepped forward and ordered the man to chuck the tree at him. The man hated the the way Punky was so confident. He looked around and asked;

”Anybody else wanna take a chanct on it?”

Francie stepped forward. “Me, Mister.”

A spurt of derisive laughter came from the tree man. The kids snickered. A few adults who had gathered to watch the fun, guffawed.

“Aw g’wan. You’re too little,” the tree man objected.

“Me and my brother — we’re not too little together.”

She pulled Neely forward. The man looked at them — a thin girl of ten with starveling hollows in her cheeks but with the chin still baby-round. He looked at the little boy with his fair hair and round blue eyes - Neeley Nolan, all innocence and trust.

"Two ain't fair," yelped Punky.

"Shut your lousy trap," advised the man who held all the power in that hour. “These here kids is got nerve. Stand back, the rest of youse. These kids is goin’ to have a show at this tree.”

The others made a wavering lane. Francie and Neeley stood at one end of it and the big man with the big tree at the other. It was a human funnel with Francie and her brother making the small end of it. The man flexed his great arms to throw the great tree. He noticed how tiny the children looked at the end of the short lane. For the split part of a moment, the tree thrower went through a kind of Gethsemane.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” his soul agonized, “why don’t I just give ‘em the tree, say Merry Christmas and let ‘em go. What’s the tree to me? I can’t sell it no more this year and it won’t keep till next year." The kids watched him solemnly as he stood there in his moment of thought. "But then," he rationalized, if I did that, all the others would expect to get 'em handed to 'em. And next year nobody a-tall would buy a tree off of me. They’d all wait to get ‘em handed to ‘em on a silver plate. I ain’t a big enough man to give this tree away for nothin’. No, I ain't big enough. I ain't big enough to do a thing like that. I gotta think of myself and my own kids." He finally came to his conclusion. "Oh, what the hell! Them two kids is gotta live is this world. They got to get used to it. They got to learn to give and take punishment. And by Jesus, it ain’t give but take, take, take all the time in this God-damned world.” As he threw the tree with all his strength, his heart wailed out, “It’s a God-damned, rotten, lousy world!”

Francie saw the tree leave his hands. There was a split bit of being when time and space had no meaning. The whole world stood dark and still as something dark and monstrous came through the air. The tree came towards her blotting out all memory of her having lived. There was nothing – nothing but pungent darkness and something that grew and grew as it rushed at her. She staggered as the tree hit them. Neeley went down to his knees but she pulled him up fiercely before he could go down. There was a mighty swishing sound as the tree settled. Everything was dark, green and prickly. Then she felt a sharp pain at the side of her head where the trunk of the tree had hit her. She felt Neeley trembling.

When some of the older boys pulled the tree away, they found Francie and her brother standing upright, hand in hand. Blood was coming from scratches on Neeley’s face. He looked more like a baby than ever with his bewildered blue eyes and the fairness of his skin made more noticeable because of the clear red blood. But they were smiling. Had they not won the biggest tree in the neighborhood? Some of the boys hollered “Hooray!” A few adults clapped. The tree man eulogized them by screaming,

“And now get the hell out of here with your tree, you lousy bastards.”

Francie had heard swearing since she had heard words. Obscenity and profanity had no meaning as such among those people. They were emotional expressions of inarticulate people with small vocabularies; they made a kind of dialect. The phrases could mean many things according to the expression and tone used in saying them. So now, when Francie heard themselves called lousy bastards, she smiled tremulously at the kind man. She knew that he was really saying, Goodbye – God bless you.”

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

It's officially Christmas at our house. The tree is up, all credit, as usual, to Sue. The outside will get done tomorrow. Christmas is really special for us this year; like so many Americans, we're thankful for simply having gotten through the year intact. We're grateful for all that we have, and need, while mindful of the difference between "needing" and "wanting."

The tree, due to my allergies, is artificial. But the joy that Sue takes in putting it up, and then then the joy of seeing it lit up, are all very real to me. Let the festivities begin...

Christmas Comes to Concord

What better way to usher in the holiday season than the annual Concord Christmas Tree Lighting and Fireworks Display in the downtown area last night. Sue and I went last year and vowed to return again for this really great fireworks display. Now, I may be getting older, and my memory a bit shorter, but I know it wasn't this cold last year! With temperatutres hoovering in the high 30's, it really did feel a bit like Christmas is on it's way. And, due to the cold weather, the "speechifying" was kept to a bare minimum.

It was a pleasure to see a crowd of people gathered together without protesting anything. It's been quite a tense week, current events wise, and so the relief, and joy, of the crowd was palpable.

And, of course, when all was said and done, even the fireworks paled in comparison to the lighting of the Christmas Tree. Although, in one sense, it does seem that the holidays come earlier each year, at the same time, I can't help but wonder if this year we need the relief just that much more. Sue and I had a great time; we were there by 7:30 and home before 9. We may be getting older, but we seem to enjoy the simple things so much more than we used to. Well, at least we try to. Thanks to the Town of Concord for such a fun early evening event.

Kicking It Off In Concord

Last night Concord kicked off the holiday season with a Christmas Tree lighting followed by a great fireworks display from the top of the Municipal Garage. The tree was across the street in front of the Concord Police Dept. Building. I was hoping to get a good shot of the Christmas Tree with the fireworks in the background, but it didn't quite work out as planned. That's the moon to the right of the tree below.


There was a dearth of fireworks in the area this July 4th, mostly due to budget cuts around the region, so it was really kind of nice to see so many people turn out for the event. Now, let's all go shopping.