For Thursday, December 2, 1999 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 714 words

Branches make the tree

This is an article about Christmas trees.

A lot of things are fun to do in groups. Parties, vacations, bowling tournaments, circuses, and baseball games are enriched by extended companionship. The more the merrier.

Some things, however, are best done alone -- for instance, renting a movie. I can only speak for myself, but I prefer going alone to the video store. I walk in, make a quick pass, grab my selection and come home. Later, I cajole my family into watching it with me because I explain, "It's too late to return it."

When I do go to the movie rental store with my wife or son, we can't agree. The clock ticks on. Except for the occasional mutual curiosity over a box-office hit, our trips usually end with two movies being rented after spending four times the time in the store.

We pace up and down the aisles, focusing only on new releases, shunning the older stock titles like hungry pigeons. We take turns grabbing various titles off the shelves and showing them to the other person. The other person dutifully frowns or winces and the title goes back on the shelf.

This process is repeated a half dozen times. Eventually, we either agree to rent two movies, even if it's 9 p.m. on a work night, or one of us throws up the hands and says in his or her best pouting, guilt-instilling voice, "Fine. Whatever. Get whatever you want. I don't care anymore."

The other person then, in an attempt to mollify, says, "What's the matter? What do you want?" The pouter then sometimes gets to pick the film; sometimes not.

We have different tastes. I like pulpy, escapist, hyperactive action and weird, cerebral head-benders; Susan likes normal films and emotional rollercoasters; Adam prefers twisted, grade-B cultish science fiction movies that no one has ever heard of before.

Susan surely wins the prize for consistently picking the best movies. Her choices are always artistic, literary masterpieces. Adam and I grimace in the store because we know how emotionally demanding Mom's films usually are. It's hard to make the initial commitment, but once the story unfolds it's always worth it.

Movies we can declare as an individual experience. It's O.K. to have strong preferences in books and movies. However, some events involving preference must be shared.

For example, selecting and cutting down a Christmas tree needs to be a family experience. Everyone must be involved. That's what it's all about.

We drove far, far away last weekend to cut our tree at Charlie's Choice in the Apple Hill region east of Placerville. We go there every year because our daughter lives in Sacramento and it's close for them. The trees are nothing special, nor is the price, but its where we go in a season of traditions.

Kristi and Chad spotted their tree right away. Kristi's attitude was, "Honey, pick a tree. I'll like it." And he did. And they were done.

Susan, Adam, and I behaved differently. First, we had driven an extra 60 miles so we didn't want to find a tree immediately. After all that driving we wanted to stroll the farm a while. This made us idealists in search of the perfect tree. The slightest imperfection earned a mutual "Hrumph." We wandered catawampus to the end of the property. Coming back we turned serious, but still couldn't agree. "It has a hole on one side." "It's crooked." "It doesn't have a good tip." "It's too tall, no, I mean too short."

We walked the length of the farm twice, critiquing every tree. Susan was the first to acquiesce. Perhaps she saw Kristi resting in the parking lot. She said, "Whatever. Pick a tree. I'll like it."

Now it was up to Adam and me, and we couldn't agree. I'd say, "What about this one?" He wouldn't actually find fault with my choice. He would just pick a different tree and say, "What about this one?"

Finally, I made an executive decision. I picked a tree and handed my son the saw. "This is it. Start cutting."

"Are we sure?" he asked. He wanted to cut down an identical tree a few feet away.

"Cut," I said, and it was over. Next year Adam can pick the tree.