Don DeGrazia
We drove out to a tree farm and sawed down our own tree and fought bitterly throughout the entire process. After much debate I ended up acquiescing to Victoria’s nominee, which was the biggest, tallest tree in sight. We had high ceilings, she reasoned, so we might as well use them. It was dark, the place was closing, and as I knelt on the frozen ground, sawing our tree, a gaunt old woman in an oversized flannel jacket walked up and stared at me working for a while, taking puffs from a handrolled cigarette. The sawing was much harder than I imagined it would be, and I was sweating and shivering simultaneously. My sawing hand was a block of frozen flesh and bone. I finally looked up at the woman and told her, through clenched teeth.
“We’re almost done here.”
“No, ya ain’t,” she told me, flatly, and sauntered back to her trailer. (more…)