Christmas Memories

The tree that made for a memorable Christmas—and a humorous confession

By John Linehan

It was the Christmas season of 1971. I was asked by Father Lee, rector of St. Mary’s Seminary in Catonsville, Md., to take the college-owned pick-up truck and go get a Christmas tree. He also gave me the college checkbook with a few pre-signed checks. I went around to a few tree lots, but just couldn’t find the right tree. The snow was coming down quite heavily, so I didn’t think I would have much time.

While driving back to the college somewhat disappointed that I was empty-handed, I saw the perfect tree. It was not in a tree lot, it was growing on the side of the road along the interstate. I went back to school and picked up my roommate and a chainsaw. I had some experience felling trees, so I was pretty confident I could get it to land right where I wanted it—in the back of the pick-up truck.

The snow was continuing to come down fiercely, and the wind was howling all around us. I set the truck into position and started the chainsaw. The tree fell with perfect precision right into the truck—square down the middle of the truck, causing the roof to dent downward. We shut the doors as best we could and leaned our heads out the windows for the ride home. We quickly became snow covered as we made our way back to school.

We (I) misjudged the size of the tree. There was no way the 30-foot pine would fit into the building, so we tethered it in the courtyard. I still had all the checks left, so we borrowed another vehicle and went to the local Kmart to buy some lights—1,800 huge outdoor lights in all, plus 16 extension cords, 24 boxes of large ornaments and a very large star for the top. Soon, lots of fellow students joined in decorating the tree. Extension cords were run through the windows in the dorms. I’m certain that the lights could be seen for miles, and it was possibly the inspiration for National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

To my weak defense, I was given no budget and no limitations on the size of the tree. But none of that helped my case. Most of the faculty was appalled, not at the $5,000 damage to the truck, or the $473 for the decorations, but the mere fact that the tree was deemed to be an eyesore and was ordered to be removed the following day.

That night, which was a Friday, a few of us gathered around the tree for one last moment. A couple of students were returning to the dorm from a Christmas program and had their guitars in hand. They started playing “Silent Night.” We all stood around and began singing other Christmas songs. Soon, several more students joined and the crowd began to swell. Some faculty members, hearing the noise, came out to investigate. They joined in the song as well.

Father Evers, the dean, came up next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Good party,” he said. I told him the tree would have to come down tomorrow. “Oh, no it won’t. We haven’t had a moment like this in a long time. Thank you.” Soon, students began plugging in the extension cords in their rooms. All 1,800 lights came on—and miraculously no fuses were blown. The snow began to lightly fall. It was truly a “Gaudeamus” moment.

Several hundred students gathered that night. It was my first semester at St. Mary’s, so I had nothing to compare it with. But I was truly humbled by all the students’ comments, students that thought that I had planned this program all along. Father Lee publicly thanked me during Mass the following day and announced that nightly vigils would be held—around the Christmas tree in the courtyard.
 

(John Linehan is a member of Christ the King Parish in Indianapolis.) †