I'm the last bastion of hope in my family when it comes to Christmas trees. When it comes to our annual Christmas pine, I keep it real.
No fake trees for me. I was raised in a house where a fake tree was frowned upon. Now, sadly, those family members one by one have fallen victim to the ease and convenience of having a plastic pine. For shame.
I didn't get my tree until this past Sunday, and it was a nail-biter. Our local Walmart had just a few left. I had to have one Sunday morning, and the Christmas tree farm wouldn't open until the afternoon.
So I bucked up, channeled my inner Clark Griswold and did what any level-headed man would do: I pondered cutting one down myself. My sister, who was along for the ride in search of the Larson family Christmas tree, put her hands in her head and grinned. Not a funny ha-ha grin, but one that said something like, "Men are stupid, and here's more proof."
Needless to say, I got my tree, fired an ornament cannon and weighed down every branch I could find, and as you see above, now proudly have my tree on display at Larson Manor.
If you're extra proud of your tree -- OK, I'll allow fake trees -- send your pic to editor@athensreview.com and we'll post them on our blog. Don't forget to include your name!
— Jayson Larson, editor, Athens Review
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