Stephan Doyle

Patricia Stillman

I recall one Christmas, about 4 years ago when Bart was not well, but still at home, I worried about how I would get my Christmas tree. Bart was not feeling too well and shouldn’t be driving. I had been thinking about this when one evening a few days before Christmas when there was a knock at the door.

I opened the door and there stood Santa Claus with a big “Ho Ho Ho, I know someone who needs a Christmas tree!”

In came Santa Claus with a beautiful, big, bushy tree. It was so big that it took up one corner of the house and went way up to the ceiling.

Santa’s sack was filled with lights. Steve loves lights. There has to be Christmas lights everywhere, lots and lots of lights, all over the house, over the sink, around the doorways, and certainly on the Christmas tree! There must have been at least 10 strings of lights on that Christmas tree and it glowed from one end of the room to the other. The bottom of the tree had
lights too, hidden in yards and yards white tulle, so that the lights would glisten through.

That was the most beautiful Christmas tree we ever had. Bart loved it and every day he’d say, “Go turn on the Christmas tree.” Well we had that tree on every day until the first of February and I said, “Bart, honey, we have to take the tree down.”

“Do we have to? It looks so pretty.” But I said we had to, as it was a fire hazard. When I took the lights off, I swear there wasn’t a single needle left on that tree!

That was our most beautiful Christmas tree, and of course, Santa Claus was our Steve.