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The West High Band used to run the Christmas tree lot at West every December, ( I think they're still in charge of it now, actually, although there was talk for awhile that Drama or Choir might take it over if the band's profits didn't improve). We always knew exactly when the trees came in- we'd be sitting in first period Wind Ensemble and there'd be that faint rumble, followed by the creaking of metal gears as the timber truck from Oregon pulled into the parking lot. Aaron was always the first one out. By the time the rest of us turned around to see what all the ruckus was about, Aaron had already dropped his trumpet and was out the backdoor, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance.

"THE TREES ARE HERE! THE TREES ARE HERE!"

Right after they're cut down, Christmas trees are tied with string into thin, green spears that are then loaded by the bundle into large timber trucks. When they arrive, the strings binding the trees are cut and they're stood-up on their stumps to stretch out and achieve their natural bushiness. At West, this unloading and unbinding was our job. Within minutes of the trees' arrival, an army of knife-welding West High Band members were waist-deep in pine needles, tossing Christmas trees from the back of the timber truck and sawing through the thin ropes binding each tree together. The best part of the job was being right there in the bed of the truck and maneuvering around the sticky pine needles and tree syrup. Indeed, it was the perfect excuse to get dirty on a school day.

"CHRISTMAS TREES! GET YOUR CHRISTMAS TREES HERE!"

Of course, when the trees were open and ready to be sold, they had to be organized. That's where the West High Band Christmas Tree Lot came into play. The lot was run primarily by Mr. Banim and the band parents and various band members, tall flaggers, and drill teamers were assigned to work shifts every evening. It was great for team morale and for us band folk it was a chance to run around in the tree lot with your friends, sample the band parents' warm eggnog, and flirt with that cute drill teamer who loved to cuddle with you on those cold field show season nights.

"BUY A CHRISTMAS TREE AND SUPPORT THE WEST HIGH ENTERTAINMENT UNIT!"

When I became a senior it fell upon me as band president to setup a security system for the lot, (I mean, why pay 80 bucks for a Christmas tree when you can just go in the middle of the night and snag a healthy young sapling for free?). A sudden revelation one night at a friend's

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