AN ALUMINUM TREE CHRISTMAS

I never considered myself poor when I was growing up until a former high school classmate mentioned recently that she didn't realize she had been poor as a child until she was an adult. Our small community consisted of identical houses adjacent to a petroleum plant.  All our fathers worked in the plant.  There was a school for grades one to twelve, a grocery store, a post office, dry cleaners, and a gas station. While her comment gave me pause for a minute, I still don't have the same perception of our childhoods.

We didn't have everything we wanted, but we all had everything we needed. Most of our fathers had been in WWII and eagerly accepted jobs at the petroleum company plant when the war was over. We lived in houses provided by the company that sat on land owned by a local rancher. I was in middle school when the company allowed employees to buy homes. I wonder if it was a good deal or if families had a choice, as the land the houses sat on still belonged to the rancher, even after employees owned the homes. The new arrangement allowed modifications and additions to be made. The original company houses had two bedrooms and one bath with white asbestos cement siding covering the home's exterior. Our houses reminded me of lyrics from the Malvina Reynolds song, Little Boxes: And they're all made out of ticky-tacky, And they all look the same.

Christmas in the Panhandle was a very different experience by today's standards. Very few trees of any kind grew in the Panhandle. Fir and pine trees were imported from the foothills of the mountains a hundred miles away for purchase as Christmas trees. My parents, ever frugal, would buy the scraggliest tree in the lot because it was usually the cheapest. We felt sorry for the poor thing, as it was never allowed to grow and flourish into a magnificent tree before getting cut down in its infancy. We did our best to fill in the numerous empty spots with ornaments, strings of popcorn, cranberries, and lights.

Our most memorable tree was a hideous four-and-a-half-foot aluminum Christmas tree. A rotating color wheel light enhanced what would have been just a pathetic monochromatic tree. We were grateful to have a tree, so we endured many Christmases with the aluminum tree displayed in our living room. Today, you can buy the same "vintage" tree on eBay for anywhere from $100 to $300!

Since tumbleweeds (Russian thistles) were plentiful in the Panhandle, some creative residents would stack two or three on top of each other, spray paint them in bright colors, then gently hang Christmas ornaments on the dried-out branches. I always thought this was a brilliant way to "make do with what ya got."

We each received one gift for Christmas. We knew to only ask for a little, but we usually got what we wanted. I would get a doll every year when I was a child. After I grew out of the doll stage, I hit the jackpot when I received a basic turntable record player. My parents grew weary of listening to the Beatles blaring from my bedroom. Every inch of my bedroom walls had pictures of the Fab Four cut out from magazines, particularly Paul McCartney, who dominated the spaces on my wall and heart during those younger years. Besides the Beatles, one of my favorite records was the first Moody Blues LP. I listened to the Moody Blues so many times that the needle on the record player was worn out after a year.

I never entirely understood why we had less than everyone else in our town when all our fathers worked in similar capacities for the petroleum company. Finally, I got it. My parents saved 50 cents on every dollar they made. Before they turned 60, they retired and bought four houses without mortgages and a Cadillac every two years with cash. My dad lived until age 91, and my mother still lives comfortably at age 90. I don't believe they ever owned a credit card, as they thought one could live well without being indebted to any financial entity. My dad was a big believer in Shakespeare's quote, "Neither a borrower nor a lender is."  My parents were wise in unexpected ways.

As I was decorating my house this year, I began thinking about our Christmases all those years ago. If you walk by my house, you might spy an aluminum tree in the window with a rotating color wheel shining on it. I started to think that the aluminum tree was alright.