My Christmas memories

My mom always wanted a full, thick, Christmas tree that was short.
She always had in her head the idea of what the perfect Christmas tree should look like.
So often my dad and my brother, Randall, who we called Renda, would make a trek into the woods behind our home on Spring Creek Road in search of the perfect tree.
Once they had located some possibilities- the four of us, mom, dad, Renda and me - would head to the woods to cut down a tree.
I also remember my brother, Oscar, being a part of that tree-searching party until I was about 9 years old.
But since there is such a huge age gap between my siblings and me, the majority were grown and gone by the time I started going on the annual pilgrimage to the woods.
Because we were getting a live tree, we could not get it until two week before Christmas. Actually, my mom always tried to wait until Dec. 15. which is today.
I used to beg her and beg her to go early, but she would not. I didn't know at the time that she was thinking about safety.
A live tree is more likely to catch on fire if it dries out. And, the longer you have it up, the more likely it is to dry.
My mom also did not like the idea of artificial, or what she called, "a fake" tree.
She liked the smell, she used to tell me.
I did too. I still do, though I have two "fake" trees up in my home now.
So each year, we walked through the woods in search of "my mom's" perfect tree. After years of doing this as a family, we didn't even bother to look at really full, big trees because we knew mom wouldn't want that. "That tree is too big and will take up too much room."
On the 12 annual runs that I was a part of, we never found the "perfect tree." We always found something that made my dad say, "Look Lo, I trim this up. It's all right."
After hearing, "I can trim this one up" enough, my mom would finally agree and we would cut down the tree and carry it back to the house. Sometimes, we needed the help of the tractor or the truck, but often we were able to walk back with it.
Once there, the fun began because all four of us would decorate it.
As a teenager, my brother and I did it while my parents "supervised." The next day, my mom moved ornaments around to suit her liking.
We had those big, red, yellow, green and blue bulb Christmas lights - those things that are called retro now. My brother, Renda, always thought he knew how to put them on.
My mother always rearranged them - out of his sight of course.
We never saw her rearranging the items on the tree, but we always knew she had.
Our "tree stand" was always one of my mom's flower pots that we wrapped in aluminum foil.
For us, the tree was the start of the holiday season. Soon after that, my mom would start baking cakes and pies. It was always chicken and dressing in my house, never turkey.
As an adult, that is what I've made as well, using her recipe, too.
My brother always made the green-bean casserole. It was a recipe that came from my mom's baby sister, Aunt Gerdie Bee. My mom used to make it and then my brother started making them.
According to my sister-in-law, Artavia, my brother still makes those for the holiday.
Dion and I will be spending Christmas with friends in North Carolina and I've already had a request for my casserole.
My girlfriend, JoAnn in Dallas, asked about it Tuesday.
That recipe has been in my family for more than 30 years now. How great is that?
On Christmas morning, I probably won't have much to open. In the past, I've purchased gifts for myself and placed them under my tree.
But as I've said earlier, it's not the presents that I remember the most. It's the traditions.
Those times at home in Mississippi were filled with so much joy for me. I love thinking about them.
Each year, I call my brother, Renda, who is a husband and dad now, and remind him of those times.
I hope one day, an adult Dion will have memories and traditions as great as the ones that began for me in Holly Springs, Mississippi.