Out of the Frying Pan

A Rite of Passage

We stood there like we were looking up a pig’s butt for a ham sandwich; you know it’s there but you can’t see it. Now, don’t get me wrong, Grandpa could track a rabbit across pine needles, so we knew he could see to find whatever he was looking for. But looking around the clearing, we sure didn’t see any trees that looked the size or shape of a Christmas tree.

Grandpa shook his head from side to side. “Remind me to teach you boys to tell one tree from another in the spring.”

Aha! I thought. My brothers don’t know their trees either. But what’s that got to do with the situation now? Even if we knew trees better, I still can’t see a single tree that would make ‘a fine Christmas tree’ like Grandpa said.

“It’s right in front of you.” Grandpa waited patiently for us to figure it out.

The only tree in front of us is a big old ever—

“That one!” I pointed at the large evergreen, even though it seemed impossible.

Grandpa nodded. “Yup, that’s a Douglas fir.”

“But that’s as tall as your barn, Grandpa,” said Lanny.

“Yep, give or take a couple feet, that tree’s about 35 feet tall.”

“How can we get that home?” asked Lenny.

Grandpa explained, “We’re not going to cut the whole tree down, boys, we’re just gonna top it, this way it won’t kill the tree.”

I looked up. The further I looked up, the larger my mouth opened.

“Why, just look at that top, boys, it’s the perfect shape.”

I spoke up, “How do we get it down? What do we have to do?”

“All you have to do is climb up and I’ll tell you when to stop and where to put your saw so that you cut about seven feet.”

I thought one of my brothers would be doing the climbing, seeing as they were older than me, so I asked, “So that’s all he has to do then is just climb up and cut it?”

“Not he. You.”

“Me?” I said.

“Yes, you. I was about your age when I topped my first tree for Christmas with my dad.

My brothers chimed in, as they always did when I got something they wanted.

“But Grandpa, we didn’t get to top a tree.”

“Yeah, how come he gets to do it when we never did?”

Grandpa faced them head on and spoke in an even tone. “Nope, you didn’t. I didn’t much feel like hearing you two arguing over which one was gonna do the climbing and cutting, so when we went tree-hunting, I had y’all cut a young fir, one that was close enough to the ground so you two could take turns with the saw.”

“Well,” I piped up, “if they want to...”

“No, Mike.” Grandpa’s tone was firm, a sure sign that his patience was wearing thin. “I’ve seen you climbing trees, hundreds of them, all summer long. This is no different, it’s just winter.”

He was right, I had climbed an awful lot of trees last summer, but none quite this high.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. I’ve got to show my brothers that I’m not afraid, I thought.

Grandpa took the bag off the sled and inside was a hatchet, some rope, and a bow saw. He handed me the saw and said, “Remember how I taught you to use a saw?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

He reached inside his coat and handed me something wrapped in wax paper.

“What’s this, Grandpa?”

“That’s beeswax. When you cut the top off, rub that on the stump up there, so the sap won’t come out, and keep it inside your coat to keep it warm.”

I unzipped my coat and placed the beeswax inside like I was told.

“Why, just look at him, he’s afraid!” said Lenny.

“Yeah, he’s all shaky and nervous-like,” said Lanny.

“I am not!” I hollered back at them, “It’s just the cold making me shiver!”

Grandpa raised his hand, pointing one finger at each of us. “That’s enough, all of you.” That one finger was all it took, especially remembering that there was a whole hand connected to it. We settled down real quick.

There was no way of getting out of this one, I had to prove to those two lunkheads that I wasn’t afraid... much. I walked slowly closer to the tree.

“Take your time climbing. I wouldn’t want anything happening to you, Cille would never forgive me.” Cille is what my grandpa called my mother, short for Lucille. That sure made me feel better, Grandpa.

As I approached the tree, I saw that the branches were drooping down from the weight of the snow, and they were close enough that I could reach without a problem. I reached out to part the branches and just then a deer came bursting out from the side. I tried to run backward and fell flat on my back in the snow. I could hear the hoots of laughter as I found myself looking up at the sky, and then my grandpa shouted, “That’s enough!”

I sprang to my feet and kept my back to them because I was madder than a wet hen. It seemed like every time I turned around, somebody was laughing at me. I’ll show ‘em. I gritted my teeth, picked up the saw, hung it back on my shoulder, opened the branches, and started to climb. Dagburn deer.

Grandpa once told me that a deer will hide under a tree to stay out of the cold and wind, and that ya ain’t supposed to hunt them when they’re hiding like that, because it’s like cheating. I woulda liked to have shot that one, though. I kept mumbling like that until I heard my Grandpa holler, “Mike! Stop right there!”

I looked around and realized I was quite a ways up. I could see for miles up here.

Grandpa hollered again. “Start your cut about shoulder height.”

“Yes, sir,” I hollered back.

Just as I got the saw ready for the first cut, Lenny hollered up to me.

“Ya better watch, there might be a family of squirrels up there, just waiting for a big nut like you!”

I could see he was right below me, so I stomped down on the branch I was standing on, sending a big clump of snow right down onto his face.

See, there is a God.