Why did you put up 9 Christmas trees?

A question and answer.

I’m Facebook friends with a former colleague whom you might take for a sort of Stepford wife at first glance—not that she is robot-like in any way, but because she looks a bit like Nicole Kidman, is very trim, blond-ish, beautiful, is a younger second wife and always neat as a pin, sometimes has her family photographed in matching tartan shirts, seems to genuinely care about college sports, and has children who look like actual angels with their golden curls and darkly lashed eyes and rosebud mouths. On top of all that, this year she decided to put up and decorate not just one Christmas tree at her house, but nine. Each child has a Christmas tree in his or her own bedroom. There are glittering trees heavy with ornaments on the stair landing, at the bottom of the stairs, in the living room, family room, and dining room. She has trees that are tall and narrow and glamorously white, others that are real and squat and green, or towering and grand.

Whenever I come face to face in my life with this kind of person—the kind who puts up nine Christmas trees, or the kind (like another friend) who wears kaftans and quits her job to move to Italy to study jewelry making, or the kind (like another friend) who easily writes one glorious, delicious, racy, page-turner novel every 18 months—I pause to consider a few key questions, namely, what is holding me back?

So I wrote to the Christmas tree friend:

Hi dear! I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about your nine trees, because the idea has captivated me and I'd like to write about it in my Emily Writes Back newsletter. In short: You seem to be one of those people who really live a good life, exuberant and beautiful, and when I see those kinds of lives, I feel a mixture of conflicting feelings: admiration, but also worry about myself, or wondering if I am holding back, if I am yet living my best life, you know? Anyway, I just thought I'd ask you how you have arrived at this place in your life and what your philosophy of life might be, and if where you got the 9 tree idea and if you have role models yourself. xoxo

Now all there was to do was wait for her reply.

Defending Your Life

In one of my all-time favorite movies (starring one of my all-time favorite men, Albert Brooks), our hero dies and must defend his life to help the judges determine whether he should ascend to the next level of existence or try life on Earth again until he gets it right. Rip Torn plays the defense attorney for the Brooks character, and he says, “There was one person you were really cheap with. Over and over again. I wish you'd been more generous with him.”

It turns out that in this universe, you earn salvation points not just by how you treat others, but also by how you treat yourself.

This is a notion that is currently very in vogue online. Self-care, being gentle to oneself, learning to be kind to yourself first—all of that gets so much airtime lately and is so popular with self-respecting youngsters and self-indulgent old people and the barely holding it together middle-aged that I worry it is fatally flawed, the way so many super appealing ideas are. Maybe the idea of “treating yourself” is just a tool of capitalism? Or wishful thinking? But I don’t think so.

Because when I am with one of those people who expect pleasure and fulfillment as a good and natural consequence of life—who are unabashed in their optimism and who seek and find joy in big things like parenthood and small things like taking a bath or putting up a Christmas tree—then I myself often feel more peaceful and hopeful and safe and like MY potential is larger, too.

My 9-tree friend wrote me back:

Hello Emily, that is such a thoughtful question, and I am trying to think of an equally thoughtful answer. How did we arrive at 9 trees??? Well, first, I will say it probably is because of the house. We purchased this house this year as a combined home for our little family, but then for my parents as well. We always wanted to have a multigenerational home, and the pandemic sort of rushed that process along. We are just so grateful for the house, the space, and that fact that we can all be here together during this difficult time. So, the house was the initial inspiration.

Then, the kids AND my parents. Both generations have lost so much during this time. The kids miss their activities and their friends. My parents miss their other grandchildren and family. I think C. and I just wanted to fill the house with as much Christmas beauty and magic as we could, so that when they all look back at this time, perhaps the beauty and magic is what they will carry with them?

For each generation, the loss is so different. There are only so many childhood Christmases, and once you are in your mid-70s, another Christmas doesn’t feel guaranteed. So we just wanted to be sure that this time felt a special as possible.

And lastly, I supposed this year really made us intensely aware of how lucky we are. We have our health, which is everything right now. We have each other. And very fortunately, C.’s work has continued to flourish during this time. At the beginning of this, we didn’t know that would be the case. In fact, we thought it would be quite the opposite. So I supposed we are extra celebratory because we are still standing, during what has been a very difficult and scary time.

I have always been a person to reflect on gratitude, and be keenly aware of my blessings and privilege. Somehow, this year, I feel that awareness is more important than ever. We are so lucky, and these 9 trees, and all the garlands, and all the lights are sort of our way of shouting out to the universe: thank you! We are so grateful! Thank you! These are dark times. These are sad times. But we are going to relish in what we have, and savor this moment in the most celebratory way we can.

And next year, when this is behind us and life has returned to a bit more normalcy, we probably will be even a little more over the top. But then again, won’t we all be? I guess that all boils down to, celebrate your life and all you have, even in the darkest of times, by creating as much light as you can for those around you. I hope that helps. Or makes sense. Stay safe and well!

How lovely. That makes me love the nine trees even more.

To close, here is a little holiday verse for you:

'Twas the night before Christmas and the heater was on,
the tree lights were twinkling and the worries were gone,
for all through the streets and all through the town,
not a storefront was open, not a taxi around.
We all were snuggled down deep in our beds
while visions of morning danced in our heads.
Come stollen and bacon and coffee so hot,
stockings and presents and things that we got.
Snow flurries and phone calls, a babe in a manger.
A raccoon-sized dog: “Let’s name him Ranger!”
And then, bundled up against the wind and the cold,
we head outside to do what we’re told:
Spread cheer and food, good tidings and love—
cookies, warm socks, egg nog and gloves.
Then home again, home again, our hearts filled with light,
for board games and laughter well into the night.

Merry Christmas!

Emily

Want to tell or ask me something? Email EmilyWritesBack@gmail.com.