On fake Christmas trees

My father is obsessed with fake Christmas trees. He admires their ability to be shaped as you please to look perfect, that they can be reused year after year, and most of all, that they don't shed needles all over the places. Our old one was getting a bit mangy, however - after almost 15 years of use it had long outlived its peak appearance and had begun shedding needles with the frequency of a real tree.

So when my dad went out the night before Thanksgiving to pick up the cake, my mother was not surprised or dismayed when he informed her over the phone that he had found a demo model that was marked down from $265 to $125. And it already had lights on it. She gave him the green light, and told me to shut up and humor him (every year I whine for a real tree, with real smells and real needles).

And so my dad returned with a plastic Norwegian spruce, to go with the Norwegian forest cats that roam the house. Like the father in the Christmas Story and his lamp shaped like a leg, my dad's pride and joy is his fake tree. You want pine scent? Spray it with pine scent. And every year, he disappears into the basement with gardening gloves on to wrestle with the multiple garbage bags full of prickly Christmas tree bits, emerging slightly disheveled to proudly assemble the tree in our living room.

At this point I know that it just wouldn't be Christmas with a real tree. As much as personal computers, CD players and toasters have become essential parts of our lives, so has the fake tree that never needs to be watered.