Out of the Frying Pan

A Mighty Fine Christmas Tree

Yessirreebob. My brother asked for it and boy, did he get it. When I stomped the branch, the snow fell from that branch to another and then to another, gaining more snow as it fell. The avalanche I’d created dang near knocked him down when it hit him. He was spitting and sputtering, flailing his arms and wiping his face, so mad he could have bitten a nail in two. It even knocked his hat off.

That was great.

I was laughing so hard that if I wasn’t careful, I would have fallen out of the tree. I saw that he was starting to make a snowball to bean me with, but I heard Grandpa say, “Don’t even think about it.”

Lenny dropped the snowball on the ground and said to Grandpa, “Did you see what he did? I could have gotten hurt or something!”

Grandpa just said, “You asked for it. Don’t ever start something with a person unless you’re ready to pay the price. Now go and sit down on the sled.”

Lenny hung his head in defeat and went and sat down on the sled.

Lanny was snickering, but when Grandpa looked over him, the snickering abruptly stopped. “You got anything to say?”

“No, sir.”

Grandpa hollered up at me, “Mike, get that dang tree cut.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. I began sawing one side. I thought to myself, This saw is cutting through the tree like butter. Of course, Grandpa always said, “If it’s supposed to be sharp, sharpen it.” Everything that Grandpa owned that was supposed to be sharp, was really, really sharp.

I made my first cut, then switched to the other side just like Grandpa had shown me. I started to hear a popping sound which meant the top was about to come off. So I increased the speed of my cut. As the top of the tree started to tilt, I yelled “Timber!” because that was what lumberjacks do. As the top came off, it swung down, hitting the branches on the side of the tree and then it bounced off to the ground below.

I was hanging on for dear life because when the tree top hit the side of that tree, it caused the whole rest of the tree to whip back and forth, flinging me backwards and forwards. Everything just looked like a blur until it stopped. “Good job, Mike,” Grandpa hollered up. I got the beeswax out from inside my coat and rubbed it all over the stump like Grandpa had said to do. As I started climbing down the tree, I remembered Lenny. I figured he was probably still steaming mad at me.

As I came out from under the tree, I saw Lanny and Grandpa busy tying the tree to the sled. I found the knapsack hanging from a nearby branch and the bag right underneath. I crouched down to place the saw back in the bag, then hollered over at Grandpa. “What do you want me to do with the beeswax?”

“You can just put it in the bag for now, Mike,” he answered.

As I got up and started to turn, I almost bumped right into Lenny. I tensed up, ready for the impact when he said, “I’m sorry I called you names and stuff, it was just for fun.”

I stood there in total shock. “Yeah, okay.” He went over to help with the tree, and I just stood there, still trying to figure out what just happened. I snapped out of my state of confusion when I heard my Grandpa’s voice calling my name.

“Yes sir?”

“Bring over the bag and knapsack with you.”

Grandpa reached into the bag and pulled out the hatchet and handed it to Lenny. I thought to myself, I’m sure glad he didn’t give him that hatchet a few minutes earlier, he probably would’ve buried the hatchet between us a little differently.

Grandpa told Lenny to go over to an old dead oak over aways and peel some bark pieces off, at least six inches wide and at least two feet long. Then he turned to Lanny and told him to fetch some kindling.

I stood there looking at the tree and asked, “Is this a fine Christmas tree, Grandpa?”

He put his hands on his hips, and took a moment to examine the tree. “It surely is a mighty fine Christmas tree, son.” He paused and looked off into the distance. “I wish your grandma was here to see it. But where she’s at, I‘m sure she does anyhow.”

Lenny walked up to us, his arms loaded with strips of oak bark. Behind him was Lanny, carrying the kindling. They both dropped their loads into neat piles at Grandpa’s feet. Grandpa reached down and handed each of us a piece of bark. He pointed over at a mound of snow and said, “Make a clearing in the middle. Use the bark as shovels and scoops, to bank the snow up to keep the wind off of us. Make sure it’s big enough for us to have a place to sit.”

We went on over and started to work. At one point, I paused for a moment and looked over at Grandpa. He had his pocket knife out and was whittling on a stick, but his gaze was fixed at a point far away, as if he was lost in thought. Maybe he was thinking about Grandma still or maybe about the events that just took place, I didn’t know. But even at my age, I knew sometimes a person needs to think about things.

He glanced up and saw me looking. A smile crossed his face as it did mine.