KAREN WIGHT -- No place like home

There is a controversial discussion in the air this week. A topic of

epic, even cataclysmic proportions, a subject that separates us into

haves and have nots.

The topic is the tree -- the Christmas tree, that is. The former

conduit of holiday cheer, good tidings and familial bliss, the tree

turns, overnight, into a fire hazard, dust collector and depressing

reminder of impending Visa bills, thank-you notes and another week’s

vacation with the kids asking, “What’s next?”

Some people can find happiness with their tree past Christmas Day.

I’ve known a few families who can even ride the epiphany train until

January hits double digits. However, being the self-professed type A

personality that I am, I have never been able to find much joy in the

tree after the big day. Without the packages, the tree just looks like a

home for dust bunnies, the brittle needles falling to the floor and

magically walking into other rooms of the house.

Earlier in the month, the ornaments and lights have been a jolly

reminder of Christmases past. Now they are merely gathering another layer

of dust to be removed before being stored for another 11-month nap.

In December, I fill my home with beloved holiday clutter, adding more

madness to the usual mayhem. Bring in a few more poinsettias, paperwhites

and amaryllis. Stack up the kitchen counter with plates of cookies, fudge

and festive snacks. Buy live greens for the dining room table. At

Christmas, more is good and bigger is better. And I like it.

But there is something about the day after Christmas that just puts my

nesting instincts into overdrive. I am not alone; I see plenty of other

trees waiting for the city compost truck to come by. One of my cleaning

cronies confessed this week that she heard the trash trucks coming down

the street, yelled for her husband to drag the tree outside while she and

her boys were plucking the lights and ornaments off the branches before

they said their final and swift goodbyes. Much to her dismay, the truck

was not picking up the trees that day. At least the tree was outside,

that mission was accomplished.

In our house, it starts with the tree and then carries over to the

kitchen, the kids’ closets and the houseplants -- if it’s not nailed

down, it’s entirely likely that my post-Christmas minimalism will cause

the trash cans to multiply like the proverbial fish and loaves. Somehow,

as much as I love the stuff, I also love shedding it -- and then some.

I love to start the new year clean, lean and mean. Heaven knows piles

accumulate quickly enough around here, and the stack of presents that

Christmas brings takes long enough to find a home in closets, drawers and

desktops.

But just in case you’re feeling overwhelmed, listen to this. There is

a man in New York City who sports a collection of Christmas ornaments

that number in the thousands. He decorates 10 trees in his three-story

brownstone every year. The large tree in the living room is annually

laden with more than 2,000 antique glass ornaments.

Collector Fred Cannon scours flea markets and antique stores, and he

belongs to several vintage Christmas ornament clubs. He starts to

decorate his artificial trees on the day after Halloween. His trees have

themes -- one feather tree is covered with paper ornaments embossed with

gold and silver. There are small automobiles, horse-drawn carriages,

babies in cradles and walnut-shell carriages pulled by pairs of rabbits.

Another tree has only antique glass ornaments from Lausha, Germany, some

dating from 1860.

His efforts live on until February, when he reluctantly bags up each

ornament and stores them in a large walk-in closet.

Just think of how many dust bunnies live under those trees. I’m tired

just thinking about it. Or maybe I’m tired because I tackled the linen

closet this morning, or perhaps because I stayed up late cleaning the

kitchen last night.

It starts with the tree, it ends with the tree. I love it coming in,

and I love it going out. But in my house, you only have until Dec. 26 to

sing “O, Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, how lovely are thy branches.”

* KAREN WIGHT is a Newport Beach resident. Her column runs Saturdays.