Tiny Tannenbaum (or Every Day of My Life is One Big Flashback)
I had to do some grocery shopping yesterday. Even Farm Fresh is not immune to holiday merchandising. There was everything from candy to tree stands at the front of the store where they could hit you upside the head and make you think, "Oh man! I DO need that!" I managed to stay pretty much immune to the barrage of red and green items, but there was one thing that made me stop in my tracks and smile. By the floral department, there was a table with tiny Christmas trees on it. Mom, you know where this is going.
This story takes us back to a Christmas exactly 20 years ago. We were still basking in the excitement of our relatively new Farm Fresh. Here's a little back story on that: This may be hard for you to believe if you've moved to the area in the past two decades, but there was a time when the Dam Neck area was virtually empty. When we moved out there in early 1983, there was NOTHING. Heck, there weren't even a lot of roads. Dam Neck Rd. didn't cut through to General Booth yet. I believe there was a tiny London Bridge connection (that's how we got to the mall. We didn't go without a good reason.) Of course, we could follow General Booth way up to Princess Anne, but even to this day, that area isn't exactly a metropolis. The only other way to civilization was to take two-lane Oceana Blvd. (which used to connect at that tiny strip mall and now doesn't) all the way to the far end of VA Beach Blvd. (also two lanes.) We were isolated. I believe Red Mill Farms was in its beginning stages, and our subdivision (I think they call it Dam Neck something-or-other now, but back then it was called Dunwoody) across the street was brand new. In fact, we were the first people to close on a house there. That was it as far as residents in that area, so businesses weren't flocking to open around there.
The old neighborhood (including the Farm Fresh shopping center area) in 1982 (l) and 2006 (r). I'm not sure what's in the center of the circle on the left (though it kind of ruins the effect I was going for.) As you can see, in 1982 it was farmland as far as the eye could see, and that didn't change much for a few years.
I can't recall exactly how it happened, but one night during the Christmas season of 1986 I ended up at the store with at least one of my parents. There I saw it...an adorable little pine tree practically calling my name. It was adorned with tiny wrapped packages and stockings held on with pipe cleaners. For reasons I still can't recall or explain, I asked for it and actually got it. I was so excited when I got home with my little tree. I gave it a name: Christmasy (that's when my parents knew I was destined to grow up and be a dynamic creative thinker.) I spent quite a bit of time with Christmasy. I'm sure I talked to it (I talked to myself, why not a tree?) I dreamed of planting it in our backyard when it got too big for its pot and letting it grow until it was large enough to bring in and be our family tree. Looking back, it was kind of an odd thing to hope for...that I could nurture this little tree for the next decade or so in the hope that I could cut it down, stick it in the living room for a couple of weeks, and leave it by the curb with the rest of the trash. Still, I had big dreams for Christmasy. The only thing I failed to take into account was the inability of a 7 year old to take care of a plant.
You know where this is going. Christmasy's needles started turning brown one by one, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't save her. It broke my heart. To ease my pain, I decided to have a service. I carefully removed Christmasy's decorations and put them in a baggie so that I'd always have them to remember her by. We buried her little pine carcass in the back yard. Mom made a simple marker out of craft sticks and I spoke of how Christmasy was a good tree. We moved shortly after that, and I hated leaving the grave site knowing that the new owners wouldn't treat it with the respect it deserved. Thinking about it last night, I wondered if the backyard gets mysterious pine sprouts now and then to the confusion of the homeowners.
I paused for a moment by the table of trees, the irony of being in a Farm Fresh not lost on me. I thought briefly about purchasing a new tree, a 20th anniversary commemorative Christmasy. But, knowing I'll be buying my own full-grown tree shortly, I couldn't justify spending the $12 on a mini tree. Besides, I don't need a new tree to remember Christmasy. She still lives in my heart. In fact, I bet I'll find one of those old ornaments (yes, I still have them...well, some of them) in my Christmas stuff and I can put it on our tree in remembrance. Do you think the people at our old house would look at me funny if I knocked on the door and asked if I could go in their backyard to visit the burial site of an old Christmas tree? Yeah, I think I'll stick to the pipe cleaner ornaments.
This story takes us back to a Christmas exactly 20 years ago. We were still basking in the excitement of our relatively new Farm Fresh. Here's a little back story on that: This may be hard for you to believe if you've moved to the area in the past two decades, but there was a time when the Dam Neck area was virtually empty. When we moved out there in early 1983, there was NOTHING. Heck, there weren't even a lot of roads. Dam Neck Rd. didn't cut through to General Booth yet. I believe there was a tiny London Bridge connection (that's how we got to the mall. We didn't go without a good reason.) Of course, we could follow General Booth way up to Princess Anne, but even to this day, that area isn't exactly a metropolis. The only other way to civilization was to take two-lane Oceana Blvd. (which used to connect at that tiny strip mall and now doesn't) all the way to the far end of VA Beach Blvd. (also two lanes.) We were isolated. I believe Red Mill Farms was in its beginning stages, and our subdivision (I think they call it Dam Neck something-or-other now, but back then it was called Dunwoody) across the street was brand new. In fact, we were the first people to close on a house there. That was it as far as residents in that area, so businesses weren't flocking to open around there.
The old neighborhood (including the Farm Fresh shopping center area) in 1982 (l) and 2006 (r). I'm not sure what's in the center of the circle on the left (though it kind of ruins the effect I was going for.) As you can see, in 1982 it was farmland as far as the eye could see, and that didn't change much for a few years.
I can't recall exactly how it happened, but one night during the Christmas season of 1986 I ended up at the store with at least one of my parents. There I saw it...an adorable little pine tree practically calling my name. It was adorned with tiny wrapped packages and stockings held on with pipe cleaners. For reasons I still can't recall or explain, I asked for it and actually got it. I was so excited when I got home with my little tree. I gave it a name: Christmasy (that's when my parents knew I was destined to grow up and be a dynamic creative thinker.) I spent quite a bit of time with Christmasy. I'm sure I talked to it (I talked to myself, why not a tree?) I dreamed of planting it in our backyard when it got too big for its pot and letting it grow until it was large enough to bring in and be our family tree. Looking back, it was kind of an odd thing to hope for...that I could nurture this little tree for the next decade or so in the hope that I could cut it down, stick it in the living room for a couple of weeks, and leave it by the curb with the rest of the trash. Still, I had big dreams for Christmasy. The only thing I failed to take into account was the inability of a 7 year old to take care of a plant.
You know where this is going. Christmasy's needles started turning brown one by one, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't save her. It broke my heart. To ease my pain, I decided to have a service. I carefully removed Christmasy's decorations and put them in a baggie so that I'd always have them to remember her by. We buried her little pine carcass in the back yard. Mom made a simple marker out of craft sticks and I spoke of how Christmasy was a good tree. We moved shortly after that, and I hated leaving the grave site knowing that the new owners wouldn't treat it with the respect it deserved. Thinking about it last night, I wondered if the backyard gets mysterious pine sprouts now and then to the confusion of the homeowners.
I paused for a moment by the table of trees, the irony of being in a Farm Fresh not lost on me. I thought briefly about purchasing a new tree, a 20th anniversary commemorative Christmasy. But, knowing I'll be buying my own full-grown tree shortly, I couldn't justify spending the $12 on a mini tree. Besides, I don't need a new tree to remember Christmasy. She still lives in my heart. In fact, I bet I'll find one of those old ornaments (yes, I still have them...well, some of them) in my Christmas stuff and I can put it on our tree in remembrance. Do you think the people at our old house would look at me funny if I knocked on the door and asked if I could go in their backyard to visit the burial site of an old Christmas tree? Yeah, I think I'll stick to the pipe cleaner ornaments.
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