Holly Trees

“My husband and I never considered divorce – murder perhaps, but not divorce.”

– Dr. Joyce Brothers

Our front yard looks like a tornado blew through – the signs of destruction are everywhere. Huge piles of holly limbs, branches and other shrubbery fill the area between the sidewalk and the street, forming a berm so high you can barely see over it. Where stately old holly trees and large mature shrubbery once stood, now there are only barren jagged stumps. The welcoming canopy that used to soften the height of our columns and muffle the size of our house is gone – replaced by a barren wasteland that screams, “This old house needs to be painted, and caulked, and patched up, and fixed - Now!”

It was not an act of God that did all this; it was Mr. Clark. In a matter of only a few hours, my husband and his tiny electric chain saw managed to ruin 20-plus years of carefully tended front yard neglect – a look I worked hard to achieve and was quite fond of.

I am from Colorado, where things don’t grow the way they do here. It is much drier there and the winters are harsh. In Colorado, unless you’re a farmer battling an invasive weed, you don’t pull it up or cut it back; you just let it be. This is a place where people actually plant privet - on purpose. Moving from a lean landscape like that to Georgia’s verdant green amazed me, and 22 years later, I am still not used to the lushness that surrounds me.

I can’t believe I cut gardenias anytime I want from the bushes that thrive in my yard and bring huge bouquets of hydrangeas inside all summer long. And, I’ve never gotten used to the sight of my camellia bushes covered with blooms - in February! Before moving to Georgia, I had no idea so many different kinds of birds could nest in one yard, and the only cardinals I’d seen in the winter were on Christmas cards.

For these and other reasons, I’m not a fan of the neatly trimmed landscape. Give me wild, overgrown and slightly un-kept. Let me see butterflies flitting from flower to flower - even if some of those flowers are weeds. And, let me hear the birds sing – even if some of them nest in holes they’ve pecked in our columns and eaves.

Don’t look for me with a rake as soon as the first fall colors appear; and don’t expect to hear my leaf blower, blowing hour after hour, as the battle with leaves goes on and on, until that final leaf falls. I am not a fan of the neatly kept lawn; and, to be brutally honest, the sight of a perfectly edged lawn creeps me out – like, that is SO not what Mother Nature intended when she created grass.

I’m not being judgmental; I’m just saying there are different styles of yard management and mine errs in the direction of “less is more.” Why spend all that time trying to rein in nature? Why not just enjoy her as she is?

Mr. Clark has been talking about taking down those holly trees and cutting back those unruly old shrubs for years. And, for years I’ve been putting him off, with things like, “Not this year, maybe next…” or “You don’t really have time for a project like that…”

This year his insistence became more and more firm, and so, in a rare move for me, I gave in. Part of me felt like, “If he really feels this strongly about it…..” and part of me felt like, “Is this really a marital fight worth taking on?” It turns out, it was. As soon as the first holly tree came down, I was devastated. By the time he hacked the first big old shrub nearly to the ground, I was in tears.

“Does this look like an improvement to you?” I cried. “Yes, it does!” was his reply. And, so he went on to take down the second holly tree and hack down the other old shrub, dragging their dead carcasses to the curb like a victorious hunter.

The birds who used to spend their days in those holly trees flitted from the phone line to the remaining bushes, calling frantically – their once well-sheltered feeders either gone or standing brazenly out in the open - as if to say, “Hey, Mr. Hawk! Come get me!”

My tears continued and when night fell it made me very sad to see so many of the birds I used to see at my holly tree feeders flitting for shelter in the pile of dead holly limbs by the street…Mr. Clark and I had a big fight that night and aren’t quite done being “too quiet” with each other yet.

Marriage is hard sometimes because (at least between Mr. Clark and me) it’s never the big stuff that matters – it’s the little things like holly trees and shrubbery. Judith Viorst said, “One advantage of marriage is that, when you fall out of love…it keeps you together until you fall in again.” And, she’s right. Spring will come and in no time, those jagged stumps will start sprouting again…

Why

“Breathe, pray, be kind…In dark times, give off light.” - Anne Lamott

I never know how to react to a major disaster like the earthquake in Haiti. It feels like I should do something grand – more grand than write a $30 check to the Red Cross. In the face of the ongoing news coverage of devastation and death, it feels like the things I fill my days with shouldn’t matter – like I should be doing more. How can I spend a Sunday reorganizing my pantry when there is unimaginable pain and suffering going on in a place not so very far away?

These are the kinds of thoughts that fill my head anytime I read or hear about death, destruction or disaster. War, the wars all over the world…children, civilians and soldiers suffering pain and injury…a hurricane…a plane crash…a flood…a suicide bomber in a market…I have a strong faith and I believe God watches over us, but I have never been able to resolve the reason behind catastrophe.

One of my favorite authors is Anne Lamott. She writes with clarity, wisdom and humor about life’s big questions and small situations. In her book Plan B, Further Thoughts on Faith, she wrestles with the war in Iraq by saying: “We remember that God is present wherever people suffer. God’s here with us when we’re miserable, and God is there in Iraq. The suffering of innocent people draws God close to them. Kids hit by bombs are not abandoned by God.”

I like that thought and I call it to mind when my brain begins to spin about “bad things happening to good people”…Suffering draws God close to them. In the ER (where I work part-time as a social worker) we see plenty of bad things happen to good people, and it is easy to get caught up in asking, “Why?”

Why does that miserable, mean-spirited, angry 62-year-old drunk get to keep on living, while a young father of two is killed in a car wreck? Why does the abusive mother of six get to keep having kids, while one of the nicest, sweetest, kindest nurses in the ER pays for fertility treatment after failed fertility treatment?

Why is the single mother of two battling breast cancer for a second time, while a habitual over-dose patient survives yet another “suicide attempt” by taking a few too many ibuprofen? Why is the long-time wife batterer in perfect health, while the loving husband of a couple married for only 15 years passes suddenly, from a completely unexpected heart attack?

Why? Why? Why?

The answer is, we don’t get to ask questions like that and expect answers. Faith doesn’t work that way. We don’t get to see the big picture. We just have to trust that God has it handled.

In the same chapter, Lamott asks: “How do we help? How do we not lose our minds?” Her pastor answers, “You take care of the suffering.” “I can’t get to Iraq,” Anne laments. “There are folks who are miserable here,” is her pastor’s reply.

And, it’s true.

“Be a ladder, be a lamp, be a life boat,” was the slogan on my desk calendar yesterday. And, boy! Did I fail miserably. It was a busy day in the ER and I got stuck dealing with one of the meanest, angriest, most manipulative black holes of a human being I have ever met. He is a legend in the ER, because he is always so difficult to deal with. On a scale of 1 to 10, his pain is always a 10. He rides his call light like a rodeo champ. He makes demands and yells and waves and curses angrily at whoever comes in his room or even walks by, and, he’s passed every mental health evaluation he’s ever had. The guy is not crazy, he’s just horrible.

Within the first 10 minutes of dealing with him, I let his darkness overtake my light and began to respond in kind. Within a half hour, I was actively being mean, cold and angry right back at him, and that made it a very long, very tiring, very angry ER day.

Jesus said whatever you do to the least of his people, you do to him. And, I did a pretty good job of beating Jesus up in the ER yesterday…I can’t go to Haiti, and I’m not going to write any really big Red Cross checks. But, I can do a better job of simply breathing and being kind to those I encounter along my way.

Homeless

“We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty.”

-- Mother Teresa

It has been so cold, for what seems like so long – at this point I’m not sure I’ll ever be warm again. Part of it is our old house is so old and drafty; part of it is we don’t have any super cold weather clothes because it is so rarely super cold here; and, part of it is I am cold natured. I have always had a hard time feeling warm when the wind kicks up or the temperature drops below freezing.

Perhaps that is why I feel so bad for the homeless when the winter rain turns to sleet or things begin to freeze. I simply can’t imagine being homeless on a bitterly cold or relentlessly rainy night.

We see a lot of homeless people in the emergency room (where I am a social worker part-time.) Some are homeless because of mental illness or drug or alcohol abuse. Some are homeless from war traumas. More recently, some are homeless because they’ve lost jobs and houses and ways to pay the rent. They tend to be luckier and more resourceful, as the homeless go, because some still have cars to sleep in and live out of, and those who don’t are better at keeping track of things like how to get into the Salvation Army shelter and stay there night after night without missing the check-in deadline or getting kicked out.

A common thread in most homeless people’s stories is that they have no one to turn to for help. Either they’re alone in this world or they think they are. Sometimes they’ve burned all their bridges with drug and alcohol abuse or by constantly going off their mental health meds. Sometimes they really are all alone because of death or divorce or years and years of failing to meet even the most basic of expectations.

Rarely, a homeless person actually has family or an ex-wife or an estranged adult child who still cares enough to offer help when a hospital social worker calls. It comes in form of a bus ticket, a new coat or pair of boots, a meal, a ride somewhere or maybe even a place to stay for a few nights. My observation - not judgment - is most of the time the homeless person manages to mess up (yet again somehow) and end up back in the tent or box or shelter or doorway where he or she started. What a cycle to be trapped in…

It is easy to judge the homeless harshly. After all, how does a person mess up so badly that he or she ends up completely alone in this world without even a roof over his or her head? All I can say is they seem to come by their state in life honestly, for all the reasons described above. My impression is that most of the homeless would do better - if only they could. They just don’t have the tools the rest of us take for granted.

One of my coworkers in the ER, another social worker, had an epiphany the other night, about how our tendency is to judge rather than simply see. She was working with a recently crippled man who had been hurt in a work accident on a job where the boss didn’t carry workman’s comp. His back was badly injured and he ended up in a wheel chair. He didn’t have insurance at the time of the accident nor did he have any way of getting it, once his list of pre-existing conditions became an arms-length long and he lost his job and his ability to work – all because of the accident. To make things even worse, the man had two little kids he was trying to raise alone, without any apparent help from family.

Due to his chief complaint of “back pain,” the wheelchair, and his anger level, the man was quickly labeled a “pain meds seeker, ” which meant he was on the fast track for discharge without having his true needs, whatever they might be (if, indeed, he had any…) addressed.

At some point during their interaction, the man broke down and started to cry, as he told my coworker what had happened to him and how it had made his life almost unbearably difficult and complex. He told her about his frustration about not being able to provide for - or even play with - his kids; and, he talked about the big unwieldy medical care system he seemed to be plummeting through the cracks of. Something about his sincerity touched my coworker’s heart and she began to actually hear what he was saying…

“It’s much easier,” she told me later, “ to picture yourself in someone else’s shoes than to see the person standing there in his own shoes…It’s easy for me to tell that man what I would do if I were him. It’s much harder and much more challenging for me to actually figure out a way to help him from right where he is.”

I liked what she said and I took it to heart. It’s not enough for me to feel bad for the homeless; I need to do more to tangibly ease their pain. I’m not sure what form that will take, but it needs to be more substantial than the extra blanket, hot meal or bus-pass-and-sandwich-to-go I’ve been offering…It’s a welcome challenge to face, as I wait for my world to thaw.

Resolutions

I like the beginning of a new year; it holds such promise and hope. To tangibly feel a sense of promise and hope is a rare and fleeting treat for a mostly glass-half-empty, worried pessimist like me. By late January my warm fuzzy feelings about the New Year usually fade into a bone-cold fatigue from winter and its short, gray days. I begin to yearn for more light and the return of spring; and, fear of my annual February depression sets in…But for now, optimism reigns.

One of my favorite Christmas presents each year is a new calendar. I savor unwrapping it, as if doing so unleashes all the adventures to come. I linger over transferring birthdays, anniversaries and other things I know will happen from the old year to the new, thumbing through last year’s pages, remembering the events, appointments, deadlines and occasions noted there…Even the bad memories have their place, as they make the good memories even more dear.

I enjoy wondering what the new entries will bring – best birthday or anniversary ever? Notations about a new friend? A trip to….? Perhaps, a new job, interest or hobby? I don’t think about the bad things that could happen - as I said, I save that for the rest of the year… And, as I file the old calendar away, I take time to realize, one more time, how many bad things didn’t happen last year and say a prayer of thanks for all the good things that did.

Once the calendar ritual is completed, I move on to New Year’s resolutions - not as much fun as imagining what 2010 may bring, but, just as necessary because making resolutions is a way of noting where I am and deciding where I’d like to be next.

Some resolutions are always on the list – partly because they never really get accomplished and partly because they’re such no brainers. Things like “lose weight,” “exercise more,” “eat less,” “drink more water” and “get organized” are perpetual entries…Maybe someday they’ll get done…

Then there’s the self-help resolutions: “take a yoga class,” “do more sit-ups,” “read more,” “watch TV less,” “become a better conversationalist,” “get a bike, ride it,” “find a productive hobby,” “join a study group,” etc, etc…Somehow, way too many of these end up reappearing year after year, as well…

The home improvement resolutions also have a way of never quite getting done: “sort closets, throw things away,” “give each room a thorough cleaning,” “repaint fading woodwork,” “tidy up yards – front and back,” “pressure wash house, clean windows,” Yep, they could go on the perennial list, too.

The self reproach resolutions are never much fun: “be less judgmental,” “eat less meat,” “be more positive,” “gossip less,” “stop eating fast food,” “do volunteer work,” “live greener,” “make new friends,” “get out more,” It’s just so hard to motivate sometimes…

Last, and by no means least are the less tangible resolutions like “find more joy,” “have more fun,” “give more of myself to others,” “worry less,” “laugh more,” “be more kind and generous.” These are my favorites, probably because they are sound lovely but are so obscure that the chances of actually achieving them are quite slim, so there’s no pressure implied.

This year I have a new strategy for working my resolutions list. I’m going to get a Nintendo Wii – the fitness games, dance pad version. It will help me lose weight and exercise more, and all that exercise will make me drink more water. It includes a yoga class and doing more sit ups. Playing with my Wii will mean there’s less time for TV; talking about it will make me a better conversationalist. I suppose Wii could be considered a productive hobby – at least the exercise games. In order to make room for my Wii and the pads and boards and things that come with it, I will have to sort and throw away some things, and give at least the TV room a thorough cleaning.

I’m pretty sure my new Wii will make me less judgmental – I used to make fun of grownups who play games. And, my renewed sense of fitness will help me be more positive and eat less fast food , plus I’ll be so busy with my games I won’t have time to gossip.

The real bonus points from my Wii are going to be in the “less tangible resolutions” area. There’s no doubt I will be having more fun, worrying less and laughing more – one look at me rocking to the hits while thumping around on that dance pad guarantees that. So, there it is – more joy. We’re not even a week into 2010 and it’s already shaping up to be a pretty good year.

Christmas

“’Maybe Christmas,’ he thought, ‘doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.’” Dr. Seuss

For the first time ever – yes, ever, as in my entire adult life – I am ready for Christmas with a few days to spare. The gifts are all wrapped; the decorations are up; the tree is trimmed; the cards have been sent; and, all the out-of-state shipping is done. I have nothing left to do this Christmas except celebrate the season, and I am very excited about that!

Last year Mr. Clark was out of work during the holidays, so things were rather grim at our house. There were no gifts and it was hard not to let fear and worry dominate our attempts at holiday cheer. This year, however, thanks to Mr. Clark’s new found, most excellent employment, good times have returned and the spirit of Christmas is alive and well in our home once more.

And because of the lessons it taught us. Prior to the unemployment, we were spendthrifts who all too often whipped out a credit card to buy something we didn’t really need. Prior to the unemployment we took even our most basic blessings for granted – our house, our cars, the funds to put food on the table and pay the bills, our health, and our health insurance.

Now, having done without some of those things, and watched all of them in peril for what seemed like a very long 15 months, I can say we are much more in touch with how well-blessed we remain, and how lucky we are in so many ways. Those times made us more humble, more generous, more empathetic and a little kinder because we now understand, from a first hand perspective, what it feels like to have your hiney hanging so far out in the wind that you’re not sure recovery is even a possibility.

We are, obviously, not alone in our trials and tribulations.

The recession remains a huge reality and major problem for so many; unemployment is slated to continue to increase on into the New Year; and, foreclosures continue to rise. For some - in fact so many - this will be a difficult season in which to muster any cheer. And, my heart, and thoughts, and prayers continue to go out to those folks, as hard times may build character, but also make for some pretty bleak and difficult days and nights.

All I can say is “Hang in there! Better times may well be on the way. Stay strong! Persevere. Believe. Have faith! When you think you can’t go a single step further, keep on keepin’ on…Your hard times may be over soon. Prosperity may, once again, reign and you, too, may well be able to buy Christmas gifts again next year.”

I think one of the reasons this holiday season has been such a calm one for me – and, one of the reasons I’m ready for Christmas several days in advance – is that the time of unemployment clarified what really matters. Family matters; gifts do not. Gathering together matters; having an immaculately decorated house does not. Health and love matter; filling elegantly wrapped boxes with things no one really needs does not.

Thank God for this recession, because it gave us clarity we would not have gained without it. At work I hear coworkers talking much more animatedly than I remember in the past, about finding the perfect gift on sale, paring down their wish lists to what really matters, and not using credit cards to pay for Christmas. In stores I see families seeming to enjoy shopping together more, because they are buying less and having to choose more carefully.

And, in my own family, we are more in touch with how valuable it is to simply be able to be together, all still healthy, for yet one more year…The gifts, while under the tree again this year, are an after thought – well appreciated, but simple – and all paid for with cash.

So, in a weird way, thank you, recession, for getting our collective priorities back in line. And, in the words of the ever-in-touch-with-what-really-matters Tiny Tim, “God bless us everyone!”

Lights

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…”

- Andy Williams song lyric

Christmas is my favorite time of the year, and I’m a real sap for everything the holiday season brings. I love listening to Christmas music and happily play the same six “Holiday Music” cds Mr. Clark made years ago, over and over again.

From November 27^th through January 1^st, I keep the car radio tuned to one of those 24/7 Christmas music stations. And, I never get tired of holiday muzak in elevators, on hold, or in stores.

I still send holiday cards - complete with a cheesy letter and family photo – and, I read with relish the equally cheesy letters and bad family photos the folks I communicate with only once each year send.

I like decorating the tree, and it takes me forever because I savor each memory the ornaments bring – the two “Baby’s First Christmas” ornaments, all the ugly yet beloved home-made ornaments the kids made at school, and all of the souvenir ornaments from family trips.

I’m not much of a baker, but Mr. Clark is, so the house is often full of nice aromas this time of year, as Mr. Clark experiments with a recipe he saw in a magazine or found on–line. I am a real sucker for those pine and cinnamon scented candles that keep the house “smelling like Christmas” (as my kids used to say), so when Mr. Clark’s not baking, they are constantly lit.

Each year I spend an inordinate amount of time decorating the house with Christmassy things. Mr. Clark will attest to this, as the annual kick-off to our holiday season is him banging his head on the crawl space beams and yelling, “Do we really need 15 bins of Christmas &%*$?”

My favorite Christmas thing of all, though, is the lights. I love Christmas lights! This probably began when I was little, because my dad was a big light hanger and I remember marveling at the result of his efforts each year. Magical…simply magical…as I imagined Santa flying over and always knowing where to stop because our house was one of the most brightly lit.

Maybe because of the brightness of those holidays past – or maybe because of the magic implied - my taste in holiday lights runs on the tacky side. Sure those tasteful wreaths hung in every window, lit up from spot lights below, are pretty. But, the houses I really admire are the ones with the all-out, really gaudy, super-dooper displays – lights on every eave, tree and bush; manger scenes and blow up characters; candy canes lining the walk; lights draped all along the fence; the more overdone, the better!

After all, if it’s holiday magic we’re after, why stop with a simple, tasteful display?

I also like the small, not-so-well-kept houses gaily festooned with a single light strand – often several bulbs burned out – accented with, maybe a plastic poinsettia, that’s clearly seen more than one year on the porch. There’s something so hopeful about the effort that goes into hanging a single strand of lights over a really ratty, run-down door…It’s like, “Maybe next year will be better?” or, “Hey, Santa, stop here!”

One year, near my house, a tenant draped a long strand of those big, old fashioned, multi-color, outdoor lights along the entire handrail of the long, rickety stairway that led to the attic apartment above an old, clearly-seen-better-days rental house. The same tenant had beautiful fiber-optics trees in both of the front windows of the apartment. It was stunning - such a happy display atop such a dark, sad, decaying house. I drove or walked by it every chance I got that season and it always made me smile…I’m sure Santa saw that bright display, as he flew over on Christmas eve, and I like to think he left a special treat for whoever lived there.

You see, I take those notions of the holidays being about light and hope, fond memories and the belief in magic very seriously. It’s the one time of the year when it seems a little easier for all of us to get it right. We can be, and often are, kinder, more generous and happy this time of the year.

For this reason, I let the holidays linger. You won’t see my Christmas tree out on the curb on New Years Day. Nope! We leave our tree up on through early February. After all, what is the hurry? Couldn’t January and February both use a little more cheer?

I also leave a few Christmas lights up all year – some draped around the back porch, a few stands lighting up the mantles, lights on the ficus in the hall. It might look a bit eccentric, but it makes me feel a little cheerier, more hopeful and bright – as if a little bit of Christmas spirit can last all through the year.

Tree Farm

“…and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well…May that be truly said of all of us…” - about the changed Ebenezer Scrooge, Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

Mr. Clark and I went to get our Christmas tree today, and were devastated to find the best Christmas tree source EVER is no longer selling trees. For twenty years we’ve made the short trek to Glass Tree Farm to find and cut the tree of our dreams - for only $20. (Actually, when we first started making the trip, the trees were only $15.)

This would be a great deal (and great experience) for anyone, but since our old house has big rooms with 13-foot ceilings, the opportunity to get a tree that will fill our space suitably – for only $20 – was an annual Christmas miracle. And, we came to depend on it and love it.

The first year we got our tree at Glass Tree Farm the kids were little – in the third and fourth grades – and, we were celebrating the first Christmas in our “new” house – the one we had worked so hard to renovate (and bring back to life from a fire) for the past year. We still hadn’t gotten used to how big our rooms were and how high our ceilings are, and our little family was very excited about the prospect of finding the perfect, really big tree.

Someone had told us about this great tree farm just outside of town, so we piled into the old Volvo wagon we had at the time (a 1970 version named Mr. Brown because of his character and color) and headed for a Christmas victory. Glass Tree Farm did not disappoint. We found the biggest, most spectacularly tall and round Cypress tree on the place, cut it down, tied it to the top of Mr. Brown, forked over our $15, and headed home, not believing our good fortune.

As is often the case with Christmas trees, when we got it inside, it looked a lot bigger than it had out in Mr. Glass’ field. Never mind, though! We put that huge tree up, decorated it with loving fervor, and enjoyed the heck out of it on through early February, even though it nearly filled a fourth of our really big dining room. (It seemed like a shame to take such a huge, beautiful tree down just because Christmas was over…)

The next year we went back to Glass Tree Farm, and the year after that, and the year after that…Several of our Christmas card photos were taken there, kids in Santa hats, festive family picking out a tree…Pretty soon, the little kids on the Christmas cards became gangly middle schoolers, still willing to sport a Christmas hat at the tree farm because, by this time that annual trip had become a well-loved family tradition…A few more years and the awkward middle schoolers on the Christmas card were replaced by attractive teenagers, willing at this point to don a festive holiday scarf or a pair of red tennis shoes, in a nod to holiday tradition…Once the kids went to college, it was Mr. Clark and I doing the Christmas tree shuffle alone, but we did it no less joyfully, because we knew the sight of that really big, really beautiful, really affordable tree would light up our kids’ faces, the minute they got home…

At some point along the way, pretty recently it seems, Mr. Glass raised his price from $15 to $20 – for any tree in his fields. We couldn’t believe it took him so long to make that $5 move, and we were more than glad to pay the “extra” as the trees we cut on his land continued to be the most spectacular beautiful Christmas trees “ever!” as the kids said every year, with every tree being “even better” than the last.

If you get your Christmas tree from the same man for 20 years (and it is as big of a deal as it was for our family) you get to know the tree farmer a little bit. We found out that Mr. Glass got into the business to “make a little extra money” to pay for his kids’ college; and, once the kids’ college was paid for, he liked selling Christmas trees enough to keep going...until, well, this year.

I don’t know why Mr. Glass decided not to sell any more trees. He’d been saying he was thinking about getting out of the business for several years now, which was understandable, given how long ago his kids graduated from college, and how much time it must’ve taken to tend to and clip all those trees into proper Christmas tree shape each year…But, we really were sad, when we drove up to his farm today, and there was no sign of Christmas tree sales, anywhere in sight.

So, thank you, Mr. Glass, for making so many of our holidays so merry and bright. Your wonderfully huge trees and incredibly affordable pricing have allowed our family to enjoy bigger and more spectacular Christmas trees than we could ever imagine, year after year; and, for that we are profoundly thankful. You gave us a lot of good memories and great Christmas card pictures, and for that, we most sincerely thank you, too.