Christmas: though many see the holiday as a time to spend with loved-ones and to experience the merits of generosity and goodwill towards humanity, I have long seen it as a cutthroat competition showing supremacy over one’s peers in who can take the festive spirit to the extreme without causing emotional or bodily harm to oneself or those in immediate proximity. Christmas has winners, and Christmas has losers. You may ask yourself, “How can you lose Christmas?” Well, let me take you to Christmas Eve of 2006: in order to comprehend the gifts of “the three wise guys,” Father Bradshaw decides to get some frankincense for the family. Extreme festive spirit? Yes, but unfortunately for my family, Father Bradshaw burned enough frankincense to raise Jacob and Robert (Bob) Marley from their Dickensian/Rastafarian graves and to set off the smoke/incense detector all through out the night. Needless to say, Pa lost the Christmas of 2006.
Don’t worry though. Pa isn’t the only loser. My brother lost when he almost burned down the house one year, and even my little old grandmother lost once when she decided to eat the Froot Loops we were using to string along the Christmas tree. Through all of these difficult times though, I can safely say that I have never lost Christmas…this isn’t to say that I have always been a winner at Christmas. I don’t have the confidence or the power to make that presumption, but I certainly have never come in dead last.
This year, there was a fairly high probability that I would lose Christmas in part because I have chosen to stay in France for the holidays, separating the Bradshaw Clan for the first time in 22 years at the holiday season. However keep in mind that there was a fairly high probability, until Sunday.
For those of you that do not know, Christmas trees cost an arm and a leg here in France (the cheapest I could find was around 40 euros for a shrub), and while I knew I was going to be away from home this year, that didn’t mean that I was going to be without a Christmas tree. So as I normally do when I face adversity, I ran away as far as I could…but this time, into the woods in search of a 5-6 foot abies grandis (Grand Fir Tree) on a gray 45-degree day. Extreme? Somewhat, but you should also know that cutting down trees in France is EXTREMELY ILLEGAL. But while I try my best to abide as many laws as possible for the safety of my loved-ones and myself, there are some universal rights that I believe go above the laws of man and one of those is the right to get festive.
I walked about 7 miles into the woods up the Edre and onto the Cens River (a small offshoot heading east) in order to avoid cutting down a tree that would be terribly noticeable. I got about ¾ of a mile off the trail into a wooded area where nobody can see me and where I can spot a patch of evergreens, and what should my wondering eyes should appear, but a 6 foot abies grandis. Was he rich with color and branches? No, not really…it was kind of a tall Charlie Brown tree, but it was my goal.
Now, you might be asking the question, “How is he going to cut down this tree? Is he walking around France with an axe?” No, I don’t have an axe, hatchet, or saw with me here, but what I do have is a blunt serrated butter knife and the heart of a lumberjack. The tree came down, and I was a glass of scotch away from being the most masculine thing in the forest.
While my “swag” was definitely on, my journey was far from over, for as I had just knowingly committed a minor crime and now had to transport my abies grandis back into the city to my apartment without attracting the authorities. Once I emerged from the forest and back into the urban environment, I still had a 4 mile journey ahead of me back to my home, and I had two options: (1) sneaking with tree in hand on back roads--prolonging the time in the open to be seen or (2) taking public transportation through the heart of the city--shortening my time in the open but raising the risk of detection. I chose public transportation, and so for 20 minutes, I road with a tree in the back of the tram. I get out near the center of town and immediately look around and then I saw them—two police officers looking in my direction.
I was terrified and almost peed myself, but luckily they were not looking at me but the manifestation of French strikers walking up the street behind me. Being a bearded man holding a 6 foot abies grandis, I figured that it was the best camouflage that I could find, so I decided to join the manifestation and use it to bring me closer to my home. Once I made it through the mass of smelly, peace loving, bureaucracy hating strikers, I started to make my way towards my neighborhood. I was on the home stretch, but unfortunately, what was walking 60 yards behind me? A police officer. My heart was in my throat. My piney victim clenched in my sweaty hands. I thought it was over, but then nothing short of a Christmas miracle happened: I feel something very hard and cold hit my body. I look up into the sky and then immediately have to look down at the ground as coin sized pellets fall from the sky. It had begun to hail.
Now while some select few might think that this is a disaster, those select few fail to realize that HAIL IS THE GREATEST WEATHER ODDITY OF ALL TIME. It makes no sense. It is warmer than freezing yet ice the size of golf balls is falling from the sky. Is hail painful? Of course, but in my mind, hail is one of the most beautiful types of pain. Of course one should always try to find shelter to avoid being injured by hail, and that is exactly what my trailing police officer did in going under the awning of a local fruit stand. My shelter, however, was 6-foot abies grandis that I held over my head for the rest of my journey home leaving my potential follower stranded.
Extreme festive spirit without harm to loved-ones or myself? Yes. There is no chance that I can lose Christmas in my books now. However, I must say that the winner of Christmas in the Bradshaw family this year is my brother, Nathan, who has taken the time out of his extremely busy schedule to visit me in France for the holidays. No amount of frankincense, trees, or hail could make me happier this season than to have him around. Ma and Pa, I hope you can step your game this year because the festive spirit is in full force out here in Nantes.
Don’t worry though. Pa isn’t the only loser. My brother lost when he almost burned down the house one year, and even my little old grandmother lost once when she decided to eat the Froot Loops we were using to string along the Christmas tree. Through all of these difficult times though, I can safely say that I have never lost Christmas…this isn’t to say that I have always been a winner at Christmas. I don’t have the confidence or the power to make that presumption, but I certainly have never come in dead last.
This year, there was a fairly high probability that I would lose Christmas in part because I have chosen to stay in France for the holidays, separating the Bradshaw Clan for the first time in 22 years at the holiday season. However keep in mind that there was a fairly high probability, until Sunday.
For those of you that do not know, Christmas trees cost an arm and a leg here in France (the cheapest I could find was around 40 euros for a shrub), and while I knew I was going to be away from home this year, that didn’t mean that I was going to be without a Christmas tree. So as I normally do when I face adversity, I ran away as far as I could…but this time, into the woods in search of a 5-6 foot abies grandis (Grand Fir Tree) on a gray 45-degree day. Extreme? Somewhat, but you should also know that cutting down trees in France is EXTREMELY ILLEGAL. But while I try my best to abide as many laws as possible for the safety of my loved-ones and myself, there are some universal rights that I believe go above the laws of man and one of those is the right to get festive.
I walked about 7 miles into the woods up the Edre and onto the Cens River (a small offshoot heading east) in order to avoid cutting down a tree that would be terribly noticeable. I got about ¾ of a mile off the trail into a wooded area where nobody can see me and where I can spot a patch of evergreens, and what should my wondering eyes should appear, but a 6 foot abies grandis. Was he rich with color and branches? No, not really…it was kind of a tall Charlie Brown tree, but it was my goal.
Now, you might be asking the question, “How is he going to cut down this tree? Is he walking around France with an axe?” No, I don’t have an axe, hatchet, or saw with me here, but what I do have is a blunt serrated butter knife and the heart of a lumberjack. The tree came down, and I was a glass of scotch away from being the most masculine thing in the forest.
While my “swag” was definitely on, my journey was far from over, for as I had just knowingly committed a minor crime and now had to transport my abies grandis back into the city to my apartment without attracting the authorities. Once I emerged from the forest and back into the urban environment, I still had a 4 mile journey ahead of me back to my home, and I had two options: (1) sneaking with tree in hand on back roads--prolonging the time in the open to be seen or (2) taking public transportation through the heart of the city--shortening my time in the open but raising the risk of detection. I chose public transportation, and so for 20 minutes, I road with a tree in the back of the tram. I get out near the center of town and immediately look around and then I saw them—two police officers looking in my direction.
I was terrified and almost peed myself, but luckily they were not looking at me but the manifestation of French strikers walking up the street behind me. Being a bearded man holding a 6 foot abies grandis, I figured that it was the best camouflage that I could find, so I decided to join the manifestation and use it to bring me closer to my home. Once I made it through the mass of smelly, peace loving, bureaucracy hating strikers, I started to make my way towards my neighborhood. I was on the home stretch, but unfortunately, what was walking 60 yards behind me? A police officer. My heart was in my throat. My piney victim clenched in my sweaty hands. I thought it was over, but then nothing short of a Christmas miracle happened: I feel something very hard and cold hit my body. I look up into the sky and then immediately have to look down at the ground as coin sized pellets fall from the sky. It had begun to hail.
Now while some select few might think that this is a disaster, those select few fail to realize that HAIL IS THE GREATEST WEATHER ODDITY OF ALL TIME. It makes no sense. It is warmer than freezing yet ice the size of golf balls is falling from the sky. Is hail painful? Of course, but in my mind, hail is one of the most beautiful types of pain. Of course one should always try to find shelter to avoid being injured by hail, and that is exactly what my trailing police officer did in going under the awning of a local fruit stand. My shelter, however, was 6-foot abies grandis that I held over my head for the rest of my journey home leaving my potential follower stranded.
Extreme festive spirit without harm to loved-ones or myself? Yes. There is no chance that I can lose Christmas in my books now. However, I must say that the winner of Christmas in the Bradshaw family this year is my brother, Nathan, who has taken the time out of his extremely busy schedule to visit me in France for the holidays. No amount of frankincense, trees, or hail could make me happier this season than to have him around. Ma and Pa, I hope you can step your game this year because the festive spirit is in full force out here in Nantes.
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