The Goodwill Tree
By: Carol A. Craig
Tags: Xmas, Collecting, Family History, Essay, Recycling

WAIT! WHAT’S THAT?!” Mom exclaimed as she double-checked her rearview mirror, suddenly slamming the Torino in reverse. Her unexpected outburst and trajectory startled me as I braced for impact, grabbing the dash before it walloped me.

Jerking the car backward, Mom returned to the charity thrift shop donation trailer. We had just deposited a few bags for the cause, but did not see what now grabbed her attention. Mom quickly jumped out of the car to nab the item calling to her heart: a small plastic Christmas tree.

No more than a foot high, it’s lash-like bristles and multicolor beads piqued her curiosity and sense of whimsy. Eyeing each other, Mom and I simultaneously winked and nodded, sealing the (free) deal, and the kitschy conifer was now in her triumphant grasp. We peeled away, both giddy and a tad paranoid at having helped ourselves to another’s cast-off without permission.

This demure decoration, its gently used patina only adding to its charm, would wind its way into our hearts not only at that moment, but for the next thirty-five years of yuletide reverie. It is still happily in use.

Bequeathed to me well before Mom’s passing, the post-it note she wrote is now also a framed sidekick and reads: “As we pass along things of memories & laughter from one to another this joyous holiday — PLEASE — May I go home with you?”

Her vibrant script harkens to a healthier era, before shaky scribbles and finally, a single letter would denote her presence. That perkier time my daughters only know through photographs, stories, and mementos. And they know the tale of this little tree.

Now the loving custodian, I chuckle every time the tiny timber comes out, and smile at all the places it graces year to year, from centerpieces to vignettes. A punch of color in a small size, it brightens any nook or cranny.

The petite pine is more than just decor. Gussied up with a skirting of gossamer angel hair adds a nod to my Grandma, and now two precious women in my past are sweetly honored. Representing charity, frugality, and fun, this tree is also a snapshot of togetherness and the willingness to be open to spontaneous glee, often in unsuspecting places or packages.

Our girl pact that day between my mother and me prevented this little harbinger of merriment a trip to the landfill. Filling us with happiness instead, it continues to delight and offer the warmth of a fond memory within a coveted season.

Carrying on Mom’s passion for the thrill of the hunt (and taking in strays), thrift shops continue to beckon me into their glorious, albeit temporary, unknown. Amazed at what many will discard, finding treasures has been serendipitous, happening with fair regularity, not to mention fiscal and environmental responsibility.

Led by example, I’m grateful to have Mom’s same penchant to see past a bit of wear; to appreciate and love the less gilded. Some of our most comfortable possessions, thrifted from a variety of sources, sport a relaxed, been-around-the-block confidence. It is all part of the mix in the shaker of life’s convivial cocktail.

Mom could have easily overlooked her simple prize that day long ago, but something tugged at her consciousness, forcing a second look. Heeding the inexplicable gut response is something we genetically share, unearthing many unlikely joys that have a surprising magnitude of sticking power.

Just like one pint-sized Goodwill tree.

Our family’s sturdy Tree of Good Will for 35 years and counting.

Merry Christmas from me and mine, to you and yours!

Letting the Light Shine,

Carol

P.S. I’m taking a few weeks off — catch ya’ after the calendar flip on January 11, 2021!