by B. Thomas Cooper

Created on: December 21, 2008

The transcendent aroma of hot coco permeates the air as a plump cat lazily sleeps away the morning in front of the fireplace. Today is winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. Christmas is only a few short days away. Many presents have yet to be purchased, let alone wrapped and distributed. Thankfully I can always count on Santa to bear the brunt of the load.

Although our household has not been immune to the pinch of this current economic crisis, the spirit of Christmas seems to have persevered. Tradition changes ever so slowly. The pie is in the oven and the stockings are hung by the chimney with care.

As for our Christmas tree, it was purchased in the prerequisite manner, and from the usual suspects, dark skinned young men speaking fluent Spanish, huddled around a small bonfire in a dimly lit parking lot. This year however, we required the assistance of a close friend, one with a truck. Over the summer, my wife and I traded in our aging SUV for a new PT Cruiser convertible, and none too soon, I might add. Fortunately, we had the foresight to do the deal back in July when deals were still being made. By gosh, we certainly couldn't get the same deal today. Still, we miss that old truck, bad gas mileage and all. Especially on occasions like this.

One at a time, we unlatched our seatbelts and climbed from my buddy's truck. The dark skinned males peered at us through the blackness, the only light, a flickering neon cigarette sign from across the street. The smell of fresh cut evergreen hung heavy in the cool night air. We negotiated the keen shadows, shaking branches curiously and horse-trading in our best broken Spanish. We settled on a fine tree. The gentle mannered attendant then proceeded to tether the evergreen to the roof of our truck, using about forty feet of heavy rope, strong enough, I presume, to secure an angry bison to the rack. No extra charge.

I am tempted to mention, perhaps in passing I suppose, that any profits generated from the sales of these trees is used to benefit some of the Phoenix's less fortunate residents. This was the fourth Christmas in a row we have chosen to purchase our tree from them.

As we pulled away from the unpaved parking area adjoining the unlit tree lot, we were greeted by the most unusual sign. 'NO REFUNDS OR RETURNS' the sign portended. They must be on to us, we mused, as we drove away, singing carols in our best broken Spanish.

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