The Kindness of Strangers

I guess we've always gone to Christmas tree lots that handle a decent mix of urbanites or neophytes or whatever you want to call us. Places that wrap the tree up to make it slender so you can pop it in the trunk of a sedan and get it home safely.

This time we went down into the more rural reaches of our county, and got a tree for a very reasonable price. It was overgrown and the lot owner wanted to part with these monstrosities for cheap.

Armed with a tree saw, I faced a formidable task. Well, down there on that lot, people are a bit more wise about how to acquire a tree. They come prepared with (a) chain saws and (b) pickup trucks. We, on the other hand, had a hand saw and a labrador retriever who just wanted to meet everybody and, if we had let him, leave a little something on some of the trees.

We found a tree that suited us, and one of the chainsaw brandishing customers offered to cut it down, size it up, and trim off some of the unnecessary lower branches for us. He felled the pine and held it up, asking if it was to our liking. We said yes and offered him a few bucks for his time; he wouldn't take any money.

Then I began to realize this baby was not the typical pliable pine I have always gotten. It held rigidly to its ridiculous girth, and the sight of the tree and our meager trunk looked like an absurd optical illusion. We gave it a shot, but even with rope, there was no way this was going to happen. About this time, kindly stranger number two came along with the requisite pick-me-up truck. We were pretty far from home, but our daughter's brother in law's family lives about a mile from the tree farm, and this fella was happy to deliver the tree up there for us. I think he didn't mind sitting in his warm cab for a while, while his family was making a selection out among the pines.

So he followed us up to their house, where we left it. We are pretty sure a member of that family, with a pick up truck, heads to our town in the morning, and they are willing to complete the journey of the pine for us.

I was fairly perturbed about this whole experience, and we rushed home to a childrens' Christmas program at the church. We are of the age where we have no dog in this fight, and know fewer and fewer of the little cherubs up front, but there is something about the tiniest of the kiddies in their little angel outfits, reciting Christmas poems to the best of their ability, that takes the edge off of silly little scenarios like our tree procurement. And if the carols with the kids didn't work, the potluck dinner that followed completed the task.

So now, attitude adjusted, I am looking at the whole thing as a big plus. My faith in humanity, soured lately by the likes of North Korean wackos with weaponry and that Wikileaks guy, has been reasonably restored by all these people who just up and volunteer when they see someone who, appearing perhaps too "citified" for their own good, is in a bit of a pickle. I can only hope that I can pay it forward sometime when someone needs a more urban-style favor.