O Christmas Tree!
This favorite story of readers comes from my second book, The Old House.

My next-door neighbor, Mitzi Foreman, walks through our Christmas tree field. It is a cold and clear Sunday afternoon three weeks before Christmas. We search through the area where last week she tagged her tree. But it is to no avail- We cannot find the tree with her tag on it. This is embarrassing because Mitzi is my neighbor and friend, and now I can’t find her tree. We talk as we continue looking and finally I tell her, “Well, maybe your tag blew off or it could be worse- maybe someone pulled it off.” All of the other nearby good-sized trees are taken.
My dad and I have learned to be prepared for situations like this in our Christmas tree business. We have several extra trees tagged just for such an occurrence as this. When we need a special tree, such as in a situation like this, we’ve got a backup plan. I show Mitzi a beautiful tall Leyland Cypress in the southeast corner of our field. Mitzi immediately loves it and instructs me to cut it. After I load it in her truck, she leaves a satisfied customer, and I am a very relieved salesman. Once again, I go back and look for her original tree, but no tag or large tree is visible anywhere.
Later that afternoon, my dad joins me and together we look for the missing Foreman tree. Then daddy spots it-- the rough-cut stump of a tree. Except this one has not been cut with the level clean cut of our bucksaw. It has a sharp angled cut probably done with a machete or brush hook. Now we know what happened to the Foreman tree- someone stole it.
This just mystifies me. Who in the world would steal a Christmas tree? That is pretty bad and low. I told Daddy that I just couldn’t imagine a family sitting there on Christmas morning, opening presents, and singing “Silent Night” around a stolen Christmas tree.
However, sadly, people will steal just about anything. In our camp gift shop, we have a minor problem with shoplifting. Ironically, the most stolen item are the W.W.J. D. bracelets. As you probably know, this stands for “What Would Jesus Do?” Well, I know this much- Jesus wouldn’t tell you to steal a bracelet– or for that matter, a Christmas tree.
What especially irks me about this stolen tree is how each year we give free trees to needy folks. All the “Grinch” who stole the tree would have needed to do was ask, and we’d been happy to help. Well, a fellow could drive himself crazy wondering about these kinds of things, or trying to figure out who the culprit was. I content myself with the fact as to how they must have needed the tree more than we did.
Then a few days later while in the front yard, I walk to our front door. Hanging from the Christmas wreath on the door is a scribbled note telling how someone had cut a tree during the day. Attached to the note, held there by a clothespin, is a twenty-dollar bill. Taking the note and money down, I kneel to look under our doormat. Sure enough, there is another one of our price tags, a ribbon, and another twenty dollars. Written on the price tag is a nice note wishing us a Merry Christmas.
Each year, daddy puts up a sign telling how we operate our tree business. I love his handwritten sign at the end of our road: “If we aren’t home, you can still get your tree. The saw is on the front porch. You can leave your tag, your name, and money by the front door. Now go do your thing.”
Believe it or not, this system has worked well over the years. We’ve found that when you put trust in people, they will usually come through in an honest way.
Once, we had several trees, out near the highway, stolen over the period of a week. We knew the thieves must be coming at night and slipping out to the trees which are between our house and the highway. It really bothered me and I told the boys that if they heard or saw any vehicles stopping on the road, to alert me.
One night just about 10:30 p.m., Clint and I saw the headlights of two vehicles leaving our driveway. We sprang into action and ran to the garage, backed out the truck, and took off in hot pursuit. We were really dressed for a fight– I had on my pajamas and Clint was in his boxers and a T-shirt. Driving fast to catch up with the fleeing vehicles, we knew we finally had the tree stealers caught red-handed!
We caught up with them at the intersection where Dry Creek’s only two highways intersect. The moment of truth was upon us. Our truck headlights illuminated the rear of both vehicles. There the culprits were- my mom in her van and my dad in his truck.
It seemed they’d left the Christmas tree field after dark to go to a basketball game. So they could ride together, they’d left one vehicle out by the trees. Clint and I both burst out laughing at our misadventure. We turned the truck around without even stopping them. Arriving back home, DeDe was waiting at the door. We told her our story and she asked, “Well, what would you boys have done if you’d caught up with the real thieves?”
Sheepishly, we looked at each other in our nightclothes and I replied, “I guess I would have taken off my house shoe and whipped them with it.”
We’ve had plenty of laughter with that story and we’ve also had fun with our tree farm. Through our tree business, many new friendships have begun. We’ve watched families of five come and look for hours, hunting the perfect tree. Then, I’ve seen men come at nine o’clock at night, park their truck at an angle so the headlights could illuminate the nearby rows, and hurriedly get out. You can tell they’ve been reluctantly sent by their wives to get a tree. They usually walk up to the first tree by the road and curtly say, “Cut that one.” Kneeling down with my saw, I always say, “Now, are you sure?” The reply is usually along the lines of, “Yeah, the old lady told me to get a tree and that one there will be plenty good.” Then as quickly as he drove up, this careful shopper is gone.
Then, there is just something about the human condition that makes us think that bigger is better. Our niche in the Christmas tree market has always been five to seven foot high trees. We very seldom grow one more than seven foot high. However, even though most houses and mobile homes have an eight-foot ceiling, everyone wants a nine-foot tree. It really is something to observe, but I guess it is human nature, or at least American nature, to think the bigger, the better. As an example, just look at our fast food places, where you now can “super size” everything.
With our Christmas trees, we’ve really had fun with children. The excitement of warmly dressed preschoolers running through the trees laughing and singing is enough to put anyone in the Christmas spirit. The fun of letting a five-year-old boy hold the other end of the saw as he “helps” me cut down a tree. As the tree falls over he loudly shouts, “Timmmbbbbeeer.” He’ll remember for the rest of his life how he “cut down that tree” during a Christmas season so many years ago.
One of my favorite experiences, illustrating how special a tree is to a young child, occurred about five years ago. A preschool class from East Beauregard School came to shop for a tree for their classroom. Several of the parents came and helped their child also select a tree for home. It was fun walking with them as they ran from one large tree to another, accompanied by our dogs.
After choosing and cutting four or five trees, the preschoolers loaded back on the bus. I put the trees in the back of my truck and began following the bus to school. About half way down my driveway, the bus suddenly came to an abrupt stop. Teacher Dianne Brown exited the bus and came back to me. She hurriedly told me that one little boy had begun to cry and shout, “I want my tree. That man is taking my tree. I want my tree right now!” It took a few minutes of careful explanation to convince him we were bringing his tree to school.
Yes, stolen Christmas trees could make you cynical, but the joy in the faces of children and their families cutting a tree on a cold late afternoon causes the theft to fade from my mind. The family of four who just left with their tree will decorate it tonight after supper. Everyone will join in and help as the Christmas season comes alive in their home.
The occasional person who takes advantage of us is greatly outnumbered by the folks who are as honest as the day is long. Our honor system works well because of this: Most people are good down in their hearts. In life we must decide whether people are either rascals, or that they are basically honest. There are plenty of examples of each belief, to see and use, to support either view. The important thing is the attitude which we choose to take on our view of mankind.
I recall other signs of a basic trust in our community: A turnip green patch along the highway with a crude lettered sign inviting people to pick all of the greens they need and leave their money in the mailbox.
Another special long-time example of trust in our community is found at Farmer’s Dairy. An empty butter dish serves as the bank for people who come throughout the day and night for a gallon of fresh thick milk. This honor system has been in use for years and Mr. Matt Farmer told me it has worked very well.

An old story relates how a wise man sat each day at the gate of his city. He would observe the coming and goings of the day. One day a young man, obviously a stranger, approached the city gate.
The traveler asked the old man, “What kind of town is this?” This wise old man, as men of wisdom often do, asked the traveler his own question: “Well, what kind of town did you come from?”
The young man began a long tirade against his former city. According to him, everyone was unkind, unfriendly, and took advantage of him.
After the young traveler ended his complaining, the wise man finally answered the original question, “Well son, this town is exactly like the one you came from.”
The young traveler immediately turned and continued down the road looking for a “good town.” Chances are he never found this good town, because he would not have recognized it even had he entered it.
Later the same day, a second traveler came to the city gates. He approached the wise man and asked the very same question as the first visitor, “Sir, what kind of town is this one?”
The wise man thoughtfully looked into the eyes of the young man and asked, “What kind of town did you come from?”
This second traveler began, “I come from a wonderful town. It’s where I grew up and the people there are very nice and friendly.”
Before the traveler could continue speaking, the old man interrupted him. He stated, “Well son, this town is exactly like your home town.”
It is true- In life we find exactly what we are looking for. Our attitude and outlook determines how we perceive the world around us.
Back in my field, I am standing beside the cut trunk of that stolen Christmas tree, I’m reminded of what Victor Frankl, who survived the Nazi concentration camps said,
“Every freedom can be taken from a man. But there is one freedom which no one can take from you- the choice of your attitude.”[1]
In life we can see every person as a potential Christmas tree thief, or we can see them as the person who’ll honestly cut their own tree and leave the money under the doormat. It is a choice, and the choice is ours to make.

I choose to believe the best in people and expect to see it best revealed at this Christmas season. Merry Christmas 2007 Curt and DeDe Iles

[1] Man’s Search For Meaning Victor Frankl copyright 1959