How the mighty have fallen.
Consider the inglorious fate of the poor Christmas Tree.
For weeks, it occupied a place of honor in the home. It was selected carefully from among dozens of trees. We handled it carefully as we moved it into the house, displacing and rearranging furniture to ensure it would occupy a spot in front of a window so that it could be seen and admired by passers-by. We decorated it lavishly, cared for it tenderly and laid brightly-colored packaged at its feet, like dutiful subjects paying homage to a king.
Christmas day arrives and we sit at its feet to tear open those packages, sending gift-wrap and ribbons and bows flying. It is a joyous moment, a crescendo of celebration, all performed under the Christmas Tree.
Ah, today, the day after Christmas, we find that our attitude toward the Christmas Tree is changing. Where just 24 hours before, it the centerpiece of our holiday home, its still-decorated boughs now seem to mock us, somehow, and admiration turns to an assessment far more grim: Yes, it will have to go; perhaps today, maybe at some point during the weekend. For some, its removal has long been part of the annual New Year’s Day ritual.
But whenever that time arrives, there is no doubting: The tree has to go.
It will be stripped of its lights and ornaments, its ribbons and bows, like a once-beloved king who has fallen out of favor and has been unceremoniously deposed. It will be carried out to the curb, where city workers will collect it and haul it off the dump.
January is a month of cold assessment. It is the month that the bills come due, the month that we find ourselves resolved to do better in the new year than we did in the previous one. The month when gym attendance skyrockets, albeit briefly, and celebrations are a distant mark on a calendar. It is the belt-tightening month, the month of pragmatism.
The Christmas Tree is only the first casualty.
But is that any way to treat a once-loved fixture in our holiday homes?
Surely there must be some more dignified way to send the tree back to its maker and communities in Massachusetts, Indiana and California, among others, have discovered such a way.
Each year, public workers gather the discarded trees and transport them not to the city landfill, but to a designated area. Then, on the appointed date, the town holds a community-wide bonfire, conducted by the town’s fire department, to celebrate.
Call it a funeral pyre for the Christmas Tree. It’s a worthy send-off and has become a community celebration where it is done.
We very much like the idea. We suggest that our city adopt this practice, too. We believe the somewhere along Riverwalk or, better yet, on the city land on the Island just south of the restored river bridge would be a perfect site for the inaugural Columbus Christmas Tree Bonfire.
Let us resolve that soon, the noble, if ill-fated Christmas Tree, will go out in the blaze of glory it deserves to warm, one last time, our feet and hands and hearts.
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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