Decorating our Christmas tree in the "old days" . . .

When I was a little girl, there were no such things as artificial Christmas trees. Christmas trees came in only one style: real. Oh, there were the Scotch Pines and the Norway Pines and few others, but nevertheless, they were all real.

There were no differences. That is, until you lugged the tree home only to find that they were as crooked as a dog's hind leg, or one side of the tree was almost totally barren of branches, or at the very least, they were two feet taller than the living room ceiling.

After cutting the tree to the proper size, the next job was to fit the tree trunk into the holder. No matter how many times you tried, it was almost impossible get the tree to fit into that metal monster. But somehow, with a lot of sawing, chopping, and not a little divine intervention, it was in the holder.

And now came the decorating. First all of the lights had to be checked. No matter how carefully they had been put away, somehow during the intervening year, they had mysteriously knotted themselves into a confusion of cords. My mother plugged in the first untangled string of lights and we waited to hear that "pop" and if that happened, we had to check each separate light to see which was the offending one and replace it.

When the lights were ready, we strung them together. Starting at the very top of the tree, we began carefully stringing and draping them on the branches.

It was important to choose just the right color of the light that went on the very top as that was the one that lighted the Christmas Angel.

My favorite part was next: hanging the ornaments. Mother kept all the ornaments in cotton batting-lined boxes with dividers to keep them from breaking. There were crystal icicles, hand-painted spheres made in Germany, celluloid reindeer, hand-blown glass balls, so many treasures.

Then came the tree-decorating finale. The one that separated the professionals from the amateurs: hanging the tinsel! It was easy to spot the amateurs. They hung the tinsel with no care for perfection. It was tossed in clumps -- the better to finish the job quickly. But the professionals hung each strand with precision. Just the right amount on each branch, each length just so.

Under the tree, we piled clouds of cotton, and on top of that, we added paper buildings covered with sparkle dust, painted metal figurines and all the other accessories necessary for a proper village.

We were now ready for the piece-de-resistance: the lighting of the Christmas Tree!

O, Christmas Tree! O, Christmas Tree! Thy leaves are so unchanging . . .