A Christmas Tree for Rose

 

Christmas was nearly upon them and Grandpa DeGriere was uncertain of what to get for his wife of fifty years. He recalled seeing a small pine tree in the woods adjacent to St. Michael's Cemetery. Perhaps, he thought, he would bring home a Christmas tree for the first time in many years. He could easily have gotten one from among the trees that were for sale on the lot at the corner of Berkshire and Bay, but he wanted one he had cut down himself.

Grandpa DeGriere remembered going into the woods of his father's Vermont farm each year of his youth, finding a tree, cutting it down and hauling it through the snow to their house on North Street in Burlington. He and the rest of the family would decorate the tree together, and it was always great fun. This memory inspired Grandpa DeGriere to head down to the cellar and get his ax. As he passed through the kitchen with the ax in hand, his wife was beginning to prepare supper.

"What are you doing with that ax?" she asked.

"Rose, I'm going to get you a Christmas tree!" Grandma DeGriere was greatly surprised by his intention. "What for?" she asked. "We haven't had a tree in years!" Her husband merely smiled and winked at her as he headed out, pulling the door shut behind him.

Grandpa DeGriere headed down Hood Street and unto Fisher, Nathanial, Slater and then Tilton enroute to Boston Road and the Cemetery, which was technically on State was also the border for Boston Road. As he walked, he recalled the early years of his marriage, their first love and their moment of sin. Just once was all it took. When she began to show, it quickly became obvious that they had to marry. 

The anger of both sets of parents over the situation seemed unreasonable to him at the time, and now, fifty years later, it still did. Their wedding had been a sad, hurried affair held in Saint Joseph's Rectory. Father Cloare had advised against rushing into the marriage, despite the pregnancy, but the parents were adamant. "That baby will have a name!" her father declared, and that was that. Grandpa DeGriere never had the opportunity to propose, they were simply told what was going to happen. The shame of what they had done was emphasized even more by those who did not come to the wedding than by the few who did.

 

 

As her husband went in search of the future Christmas tree, Grandma DeGriere was wondering why they were going to have one now, their first in over 20 years. Remembering their first Christmas together, she smiled to herself. They were living with his parents, and she recalled how her husband had looked as he came through the door with her late father-in-law, dragging a big pine. "Look Rose, I got the finest pine tree on my father's farm," he announced as he was trying to stand the tree in a corner of the living room. They soon discovered the tree was too tall for the ceiling. "Nevermind," she laughed, "Cut the top branches off and I'll make them into wreaths." Grandma DeGriere recalled how as they were decorating the tree, she could feel the child moving within her. "Will it come before Christmas?" she remembered thinking.

Irene was born the next morning.

It was the birth of Irene that had brought them to Hood Street. Fearful that the stigma of her birth would become a problem for Irene as she grew older, they packed their few belongings, took the train to White Hall and then to Albany, finally heading east to Springfield, Massachusetts where they built a house on Hood Street. 

Years passed, and when their daughter was approaching her 16th birthday, she found herself a job and quit school. Nothing Grandma DeGriere could say would stop her. Because of the child labor laws, Irene informed her mother that she needed her birth certificate. "We don't have one," she told her daughter, hoping the matter would not resurface. However, shortly afterwards a white envelope arrived in the mail. Irene was the one who had gone to the mailbox that day, and shuffling through the mail she removed an envelope and tossed the rest of the mail on the kitchen table.

"What is this?" her mother asked.

"It's mine." came her daughter's cold reply as she snatched it from her mother's hand. Irene went to her room, and carefully opened the envelope. Unfolding the enclosed document from the City Clerk in Burlington, she read, "Female, first daughter of Albert DeGreer and Rose Broussard, born March 11, 1901. She could do the math based on what she knew was her parent's wedding anniversary. Irene came bursting back into the kitchen. "Here, read this!" she cried, thrusting the document at her mother. Seeing it was a birth certificate, their eyes met. "So now you know," was all her mother said.

"How could you!" Irene cried. "This says simply "Female." You didn't even give me a name!" For the first time in their lives, the older woman slapped her daughter in the face. "We were in love," she said, turning her back on her daughter. Irene ran into her room crying and slammed the door. They never discussed the revelation made that day ever again, but the crying girl who ran into that bedroom was different from the woman who came out.

Grandma DeGriere's reminiscing was interrupted when she spotted through the window her husband dragging a small pine tree down Hood Street. She tried to busy herself by stirring the contents of a pot on the stove. Soon her husband was shaking the snow off the tree before opening the door and pulling it into the parlor of their home. While his wife busied herself in the kitchen, Grandpa DeGriere went up to the attic to search for the old tree stand and decorations. When he found them, they were dusty with years of disuse. Bringing them into the front room, he stood the tree in the stand and began decorating it.

As he worked, Grandpa DeGriere thought of the past year, which happened to be the year of their Golden Wedding Anniversary. Considering the pain surrounding the original event, he and his wife never considered celebrating it. However, their daughter Irene kept bringing it up. "Fifty years is quite an accomplishment," she urged, "you really ought to celebrate it." But nothing happened.

Grandpa DeGriere stood back and looked at his handiwork so far. "The tree looks pretty good," he said under his breath. Suddenly he heard his wife calling to him from the kitchen, "Supper's ready!" He promised himself he would finish the tree later. After they ate, and once the dishes were done, Grandma DeGriere came and sat on the sofa to watch her husband finish decorating the tree. They hadn't had a Christmas tree since Irene got married and moved out. At the time Irene married Jimmy, both her parents feared the marriage wouldn't last, but although the marital road had indeed been rocky for their daughter, she was still legally Jimmy Flagg's wife.

Grandpa DeGriere broke the silence, "It looks beautiful, doesn't it?"

"It is beautiful," Rose sighed, and reached for her husband's hand in the dark.