The rear of the tree is where all the ugly ornaments go to die. Well, not really die, just hide. All of us have them: the tacky dough ornament that was an unwanted gift even the day it was opened, the souvenir ornament from Aunt Gertrude’s stop in Dolly Wood 12 years ago, the handmade pipe cleaner and clothespin reindeer from your third grade Sunday school Christmas party (yours never looked like the teacher’s example.)
There is a guilty feeling that washes over each person as they bring out the Christmas trimmings. Those ornaments we all wish didn’t exist, but we are stuck staring at year after year. Why can’t we just throw them away? Or donate them? There’s just a twinge in one’s gut that says, “You must hold on to this. It is a Christmas treasure. If you toss it, you will lose the Spirit of Christmas Past.”
And so it goes, we find the least visible branch. We unwrap that bane and place it gingerly on the unnoticed bough. “Well, I paid homage this year,” you say to yourself as you wish you had not been so gentile with that horrid memento.
“Next year I’ll let the two year old help me with the back of the tree decorations…First I’ll load her with sugar, then I’ll dance with her until she’s dizzy in the living room, then I’ll moisturize her hands, then ask her to put it as high as she can reach… All of this I’ll watch with loving, careful supervision…in hopes that the dough ornament will find a crumbly end.”
How is it that the accidental breaking of an unwanted ornament is easier on the psyche than the passing on of such items? It just seems more honorable to bear this burden until the burden no longer exists.
Next time you go to a friend’s house, take the time to inspect the wall-facing portion of the largest Christmas decoration. (Then secretly gift your unaware buddy with one of your own back bough beauties!)