Lexington, KY - Are you a plastic person, or do you go for the real thing? When Thanksgiving has come and gone, do you pull your old Christmas tree from a mangled, dusty box in the attic or basement, or do you go out and hunt for a real tree to bring into your home? Both have their advantages and disadvantages: for holiday purists a plastic tree is tantamount to blasphemy, for the plastic faithful a real tree is too much of a hassle - what with those confounding tree stands, dead needles and tree allergies.
If you asked me this question at different points in my life, you would come to the quick conclusion that I'm a waffler on the issue.
Growing up, my family would bring in a big, beautiful tree we bought in the gro- cery store parking lot, and I thought it was the greatest thing ever - I liked to sleep on the couch in the same room, back when I could get some shut eye amid a flurry of blinking lights. One year, while examining a newly decorated number, I couldn't determine if the flickering lights created the illusion of a swaying tree, or if in fact this festooned holiday accessory was unstable. It ended up tottering over on me.
Even then, with ornaments crashing on top me and sap matting my hair, my loy- alty to the real tree was unflappable.
Later, my parents introduced a plastic tree into our household, and I felt scan- dalized. Even though it was immaculately decorated, and very firm in its position in the corner of the living room, it felt like there was a foreign agent harboring all of our holiday bounty. Then my adroit mom pandered to my environmental sensibili- ties - by reusing a plastic tree, she reasoned, we were saving a tree each year. I was convinced, and I became a plastic pusher.
Then I met Harold Jardine, who runs a large Christmas tree farm and landscape nursery outside of Eugene, Oregon. I was living a few miles down the road from his operation, and I saw a sign in his driveway looking for holiday help. I was broke, so any opportunity for chance employment was always seized upon.
Harold's Siuslaw Tree Farm (named for the adjacent national forest between Eugene and the coast) had hundreds of acres of Douglas fir trees, and he hired a few people every holiday season to help customers pick, cut and load their Christmas trees. The Siuslaw Tree Farm also did two big runs each season. One took about a thousand pre-cut Christmas trees north to Portland the day after Thanksgiving, the other went south to San Francisco, where they were sold on the street for astronomical prices.
My job, about a week before Thanksgiving, was to help prep for the Portland run, and every day I sawed down, bagged and loaded dozens of trees on to trailers. Early in the morning the Friday after Thanksgiving, we hauled them up Interstate 5 and were hawking them near Jamison Square in the Pearl District by 8 o'clock. We were sold out before dinner time and drove back to Eugene triumphantly.
After working at the Siuslaw Tree Farm, I flip-flopped back to being a propo- nent of real trees. The people who work their land to meticulously cultivate these trees are bona-fide farmers, and they help employ people each year. A tree might be cut down, but a new one is planted in its stead.
My stint with Harold was supposed to end after the Portland run, but once we got back he asked me if I wanted to stay on and work at his farm through the rest of his holiday season, but I declined. I decided I was going back to Kentucky, back home. Harold actually taught me two things about Christmas trees: nothing beats the real thing, and they are best experienced with friends and family.