So Long, Big Christmas Tree

I know this post is going to sound snobby, and given that I have witnessed people in dozens of third world countries live off of $1 a day, maybe it is. But this past weekend my sister and I experienced the end of an era, so I thought it was something worth writing about as we mourn the passing of a family tradition. For the last 15 years or so, our family has picked up Christmas trees that were big- huge even. Part of it was the sheer enjoyment of feeling overwhelmed by Christmas spirit, some of it was the fun of the event, some of it could even be chalked up to the trip to get the tree.

I'm sure that just about everyone has seen Christmas Vacation at this point, and specifically the opening scene where Clark Griswold takes the family way out into the wilderness only to return with a tree so big that when the binding cords are cut, tree limbs fly out windows and the size lays general havoc to the living room. For our family, there's a bit of truth to that. It typically takes all four of us the greater part of thirty minutes to get the tree into the house, base installed, and then vertical- complete with structural support and guy lines attached. Sap is on everything and you are never surprised at the unique places that pine needles find themselves over the next two days.

Admittedly, there are plenty of other famous trees that go up during the Holidays- Rockefeller Center and the White House spring to mind. I even saw a CNN report on the White House tree that said that there are actually specific dimensions. Seriously. According to the White House, the Christmas Tree has to be specifically 18 1/2' tall, 13' around, and have "strong, full branches" Who comes up with this stuff? Equally amusing were the interviews of onlookers who were on-site for the tree cut down and bundling: "..exciting time for the area and to come see this once in a lifetime opportunity."

So our specifications aren't quite like that, but it does breed nostalgia for us and as a result I think it's important to start from the beginning. Two days after Thanksgiving, the Sexton Family Tree Farm opens for business about 2 1/2 miles away from our house on Old Dominion Rd. There, Mr. Sexton scurries around, yelling at a flock of teenager boys who are either from Langley High School or Freshmen in college, looking for a quick buck through brute tree labor. These kids are there dressed in pine-covered sweatshirts and jeans while a fleet of cars and SUVs drive in and then 20 minutes later drive out with a big tree tied to the top. There are big trees, little trees and gargantuan trees. Mr Sexton has them all neatly arranged into groups, and the intent of being there first thing is dad's insistence on picking up one that's freshly cut. He believes that if you get a tree within days of its being cut the thing will last much longer than if you procrastinate and grab one the week before Christmas. And like almost everything, he's right on the money. I think a few years back we had a tree that lasted until close to March and still looked like it had life left in it. When I dragged it out into the backyard Christmas Tree graveyard, I actually dug a hole and put the bottom 6 or 7 inches into the hole under the stupid assumption that the tree actually had a fighting chance. It promptly died.

Once we have sufficiently tired out a bunch of teenagers who have to drag out and stand up four or five trees that range in height from 12' to 14' tall, we select one, mom grabs 100 pine boughs that she'll never use for wreaths and then we lash the tree to the roof of whatever car we have chosen to torture on that given day. Given the hierarchy of cars in our family, this usually ends up being mine, but not the CJ-7 that's now gracing their garden as a winter squirrel home. Then the slow drive begins, where the tree strains against its tie-downs as we hit a cranking 20 mph through windy back roads leading back home. Once in the driveway, the whole family gathers again to literally drag a 150 lb tree into the house, its branches scraping now-green stained door jams and leaving a trail of pine needles that even a blind routefinder could follow. We hammer on the same base we have used consecutively for 10 years, throw the thing into the air in a scene reminiscent of the Suribachi flag raising, and then quickly tie it off to anything we can use as an ad-hoc anchor. For the rest of the night, and into the following day we decorate the crap out of the tree, putting up at least 8 light strands and about 500 ornaments. The decorations range in size and design, but largely conform to a red and straw motif which makes it look very Christmasy and does look really cool in the end. Dad then continues with a ritual watering schedule that even includes a flashlight for evening hours in order to throw in 2 gallons of water a day to keep it looking nice. By Christmas, when it's time for presents and the ritual family pictures it still looks every bit as fresh as when we picked it up.

This year, it was different from the start. Mom wants a smaller tree, stating the new floors as a reason for the downsizing. So dad goes along for the ride. After a few confusing questions and glances from Barb and I, the three of us (Mom sat this one out? What's going on here?) head to Sexton's Tree Farm, and pull in to find the lot literally deserted. There are about 20 teenage kids sitting on their asses, and Mr Sexton himself turns out to be inside taking a nap. Once we park, only one kid comes forward to help- the rest sit there and grumble, probably talking about.. you know, I can't even remember what 17 year old guys talk about anymore. Probably something geopolitical and thought producing.

We are the only ones on the lot looking for trees, and instead of head over to the big ones, we settle on the smaller pile. I don't know if it's the economy, or what. But the fact of the matter is that trees in the smaller pile end up being $115, while trees in the larger pile are a whopping $280. I also don't know who came up with their pricing strategy, but when a tree that's 10' tall is $115, and then a tree that is 11' tall is $165 more, someone needs to go and do some thinking about how these things are marked. Seriously, wtf? Just for that reason alone, why not take a 10' tree and stick it on a pedestal or something. You could go out and buy one for $100 and still end up way ahead.

As we drag out a few surprisingly light trees to compare, Dad makes comment on a few occasions about getting some of our assistants friends to come over and give him some help, but none of them do because they clearly are too deep into that very geopolitical and thought producing discussion to come over.

Anyway, so our kid holds up trees and then in the end helps us lash the tree down to the car. Where this usually takes twenty minutes, today it takes about five. Dad goes inside to pay and wakes up Mr. Sexton, who never even makes a cameo appearance. His son (I'm guessing) comes to the car, lights up some kids lazing around, and then sends a few home, I'm sure at their shock. The rest just sit there looking surly. Dad gives our helper a fat tip (take that, lazy ass kids), and we are off, easily hitting 40mph on our way home.

Getting the tree off the car and into the house is a breeze- I just lifted the thing and carried it in by myself. No pine needle trail, no branches scraping walls and leaving behind a light green tint. We hammered on a base and up it went on it's first try- without any support wires needed! It just stands there all by itself. Wow.. trees do that.

We strung lights, and to cover the entire tree it took us 4 strands this time. Loading on as many lights, ornaments and bulbs as we could the entire decorating process took on a streamlined feel- I think we knocked out the decorating in about an hour. At the end, there were still plenty of decorations left in the box and spare light strands on the floor that ended up going back downstairs. Mom was happy, Dad was quiet, and Barb and I were reminiscing of the old days.


At first, I think we were all freaked out at the prospect of a tiny tree. But I guess in the end, it's meant to be. Spending that much on a tree is a bit ridiculous, although it was an amazing addition to the Holidays. In the end, it looks like even the ritualistic neutering of the old tree where Dad takes pruning shears and cuts the tree one limb at a time so that in the end it looks like what a cat does after you dunk it in a bathtub is over. But like records are made to be broken, maybe traditions are made to be upended. Mom invented about 20 this past weekend, from Doug-Makes-Thanksgiving-Omelets to some crazy prayer circle hug thing. So maybe those new traditions can take the place of a massive tree, but I still think that it'll be sorely missed.


By the way, what's up with all the Segways in DC these days? Reminds me of Arrested Development and Gob's favorite way of getting around.










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Astoria, OR- home of the US Coast Guard, Army, Lewis & Clark and the Goonies

Last weekend, Alpha Company (USMC, 4th Landing Support Battalion based out of Ft Lewis, WA) went to Astoria, WA. All 60 of us boarded busses and headed south to the mouth of the Columbia River which was a 4 hour drive all things considered. After what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at Camp Rilea, an Army training facility on the outskirts of town and adjacent the mouth of the Columbia River.

Area History

It's actually a very interesting region, steeped in history. Originally a fishing community named after America's 1st millionaire (John Jacob Astor.. who made his fortune in the fur trade and then developing Manhattan as a real estate baron), Astoria was truly established thanks to the overland route blazed by Lewis and Clark who wintered over from 1805 to 1806 at Fort Clatsop. More on that later. Once Lewis and Clark's Corps of Discovery expedition returned and presented maps of their great journey westward, the Columbia River became a highway of trappers, settlers, ne'er do-wells and other pioneers looking to set out on a new life. To support this bustling community, Fort Astoria was established and eventually grew into a small city/ port outpost. Widely considered America's most established writer at the time, Washington Irving was approached by John Jacob Astor to mythologize the three-year reign of his Pacific Fur Company. Irving's book, Astoria (1835), cemented the importance of the region in the American psyche and as a result the name stuck. Astoria had arrived. Over the years, Portland grew to overshadow Astoria as an industrial shipping port and business began to center specifically on the fishing and lumber market. Today, it is an artsy enclave that maintains a distinct flair for the sleepy pioneer days of long ago through unique architecture, shops and homes. Adding to that from a modern flair, there is a bridge that is at least 4 miles long and spans the Columbia River right at its mouth. One end on the Astoria side is elevated to allow container ships to pass through enroute to Portland while the remaining 3 3/4 miles stretch at barely 40' above the water giving it a unique and interesting appearance.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Astoria,_Oregon
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Astoria-Megler_Bridge

Arriving at Camp Rilea, we were directed to our bivouac site at TA-13 where we prepped the grounds and set up for the next few days. The first night, the staff bedded down the Marines and then headed out to Astoria so we could relax and plan for the following days training events. That plan lasted all of about 10 minutes. After driving aimlessly through the town we finally found the Wet Dog Cafe- a local brewery where a few of the Coast Guard ARSC guys took me when I was in Astoria for work a few months back. 15 Marines pile into a bar in a Coast Guard town, and what do we find: some long haired hippie wearing one of those Marines T-shirts that recruiters hand out. How stupid do you think he felt? "Hey, check me out, I'm a bad-ass! Oooppssssss...." The bar was all decked out for Halloween, complete with corn stalks and a half million pumpkins but after drinking a few beers (their strongest was something sort of dark that they wouldn't serve more than two 8 oz glasses to any one person) Batwings (Sgt Lentz) ran out of the bar with a 10 lb pumpkin on a dare. Chafing Gun (Sgt Huntington) then decided that he was going to steal a larger pumpkin just for the hell of it, but for some reason that didn't work out. When we returned to the bivouac site, Bat Wings handed off his pumpkin to the firewatch who were then tasked with carrying the thing for the rest of the weekend... lucky them. I do think that it's pretty funny that here we are in this town full of hotels and nice houses and then when we are ready to go to sleep we get excited to head to a grassy meadow where we can jump into sleeping bags. Man if only the people around us in that bar knew.. they'd be so jealous.

The next morning, reveille sounded at 06:30 and the Marines were hopping. After ~20 minutes of prep and another delicious MRE breakfast the company broke into two groups: one would conduct Helicopter Support Team (HST) training at USCG Air Station Astoria and the second would prepare for hoist training at Camp Rilea. Both would involve the HH-60J "Jayhawk"- one of the Coast Guard's multi mission SAR birds. Astoria maintains 3 HH-60s and we had worked for several weeks to plan and prepare for the days cross-training

events. After the teams were separated, the HST team moved to Astoria and arrived under a thick blanket of fog. Because of the limited visibility, the Marines had several hours to kill. But Marines being Marines, they started to poke around and one glaring thing that they immediately noticed was that along one wall of the hangar just about every flag that could be flown.. was: POW-MIA, Oregon State, Washington State, Air Force, Army, Coast Guard.. it seemed like even the Elk's Club had it's flag up there flying proudly on that wall. All except the Marine colors, which were rolled up and propped up in a corner. Story goes that at some point the flag mount broke and they just hadn't gotten around to fixing it. In their defense, there was a broken mount up at the hangar door and I'm sure that with all the elements hitting that particular mount it was just a matter of the right gust of wind. Give bored Marines enough time to be idle, and watch out. YouTube is full of videos to prove it. Once the hangar got quiet, there they were, scaling the girders and in an image as close to any Iwo Jima Mt Suribachi flag raising as I'll ever see, our Navy Corpsman Doc Peterson pulled the Navy flag out of it's mount and replaced it with the Marine flag. Other than a few scuff marks on the pillar I doubt that many people will notice other than just about every Marine that sets foot into that hangar.. and maybe one or two eagle eyed Elks Club members.

So after screwing around for what seemed like forever, the skies began to clear and fog burned off. At 10:00, flight ops gave the green light and the pilots began to warm up their HH-60. We moved the team out to a far corner of the air field where we were then able to complete multiple HST lifts of a 1,250lb buoy. Typically, Marines conduct HST lifts of items like HMMWVs, 10,000lb net loads or other heavy items using CH-53E helos but those are few and far between in the Pacific Northwest. In Iraq, Alpha Company Marines worked almost every day to move items as wide ranging as vehicles, Riverine boats, MRE pallets, water, container units and even recover helicopter wrecks. It is truly an efficient way of moving equipment and cargo- especially in Iraq, where the roads are so dangerous. But that's for another post. At Astoria, we focused on thinking out of the box to succeed in working contacts to link up our Marine company with the Coast Guard and conduct joint training that was beneficial to both teams. Wrapping up the lifts, the HST team was ferried back to the hangar in order to prepare for the next phase of our cross-training evolution.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Ever wonder if a tree makes noise when it falls in the woods? The same thing goes with Marines and screwing around when the leadership is gone. You know it happens, all you can do is just keep your fingers crossed that nothing bad happens and that it all works out in the end. If I had a dollar for all the Iraq stories that I was blissfully unaware of when we were in Iraq.. but did actually happen and am now being told.. I guess in their eyes there is some sort of Statute of Limitation in place on when things that happened aren't something that is ass-chew worthy anymore.

So the reason I bring all that up is because as we come driving down the road to TA-13, all of the Marines are sitting there looking way too innocent. I don't know what was going on, but I'm sure that come 2010 I'll hear about it. Maybe something involving Bat Wing's 10 lb pumpkin.

See what I mean?

After an hour of Marine Corps Martial Arts, the HH-60 arrived for hoist training. Hoist training involves the following: Helo arrives on station, drops Rescue Swimmer (R/S) down to the site for assessment. After R/S communicates with the helo, basket with tag line (used to secure and stabilize the basket as it is moving underneath the helo thanks to rotor downwash) is dropped to ground level. Marines fireman carry fallen Marine to the basket, where he is placed and then raised up to the hovering helicopter. This process is repeated over a 45 minute span of time to the point where any exposed skin is sufficiently exfoliated from all the blowing sand whipping around at 80 miles an hour.

Interestingly enough, this is also where you learn quickly who has listened to your packing list and who decided that they knew better as five minutes into the evolution ~15 Marines were huddled together on the other side of the berm with their backs to the helo and shielding their squinting eyes. Guess who forgot their goggles? Smooth move on their part. To me, this was quite similar to what it's like watching with painful awe as your dog learns the hard way about drinking sea water for the first (and last) time. I guarantee that now whenever someone says "helo ops", the first piece of equipment thrown into their packs will be goggles... I swear I saw some of them picking sand out of their eyes 24 hours later.

All in all, rewarding training among teams that really don't have the opportunity to train much together. Basket lifts are in all likelihood the most logical real-world event that would occur between Marines and Coast Guard, typically during a humanitarian crisis- sort of like what played out over and over in TV coverage of the Hurricane Katrina aftermath. But additional SAR type of challenges involving canopied forests or higher angle terrain might find several of Alpha's Marines involved in real-world rescues with the Coast Guard- likely given the large number of climbing Marines that are housed within company and larger scale Natural Disaster events like last year's floodings.

After some more beach training and an afternoon awards ceremony the company sounded liberty, boarded the bus and headed into Astoria for several hours of R&R. Think it was funny watching 15 Marines walk into a brew house? Watch 60 Marines walk down the street and listen to on-the-street conversations. Most people, unaccustomed to Marines in that part of the world yet right on the Pacific assumed that a US Navy Destroyer was in port but then checked out the sexy hair cuts and thought the better of it. People there were really great, even buying us drinks from time to time- all of this in a town that has an Army and Coast Guard base within a stone's throw of city center. We ended up snagging a 3" stack of coasters and a bunch of beer glasses after some bartender tried jamming us on our bills and was ridiculous about a burger order made 1 minute earlier "sorry dude, you can't change from a classic burger to a bleu cheese burger- its too late now". Ass.

The next morning, the company sounded reveille early- 05:00. Breaking down camp we donned helmet, flak and packs to kick off on an 11.5 mile conditioning hike down the Fort to Sea Trail, a historic trail believed to have been established by none other than Lewis and Clark to link Ft Clatsop with the Pacific Ocean. Round tripping the hike, we actually hiked the grounds of Ft Clatsop to see the fort, the fresh spring watering point and canoe entry point. Why not? It's not like any one of us is going to wake up one morning and go "you know what? I want to go see Ft Clatsop today" and make it a destination visit. I'd even bet good money that unless we conduct another training exercise at Rilea, there's a good chance only one of us might make ever make it back. I sort of put it into the same category as the Hole-in-the-Wall Monument, located in the Mojave National Preserve that you drive by at 80mph enroute from 29 Palms to Las Vegas. It's located near this little rinky-dink town (Cima) and sounds intriguing, but who wants to side trip 20 some odd miles to see it when you have Vegas on the mind? Not me. So, here was our chance to see Ft Clatsop as Alpha goes humping by. Hopefully one day, someone will talk about Lewis & Clark with one of the Marines and he'll be able to talk about how he was there and saw part of that history. And that right there makes it all worth it.

As for Ft Clatsop, this little log cabin structure way out in the middle of nowhere, Lewis and Clark stayed while hoping that at some point they would be able to hitch a ride on a passing ship rather than have to re-trace their steps. Think our 47 mile Mt Olympus climb was opening up a big can of suck-it-up? That doesn't hold a candle to what those guys had to look forward to. I'm sure one wise-ass soldier looked at their journey home and said "hey, we're halfway there". So waiting out the winter, the Corps of Discovery holed up to prepare for the return that I'm sure wasn't exactly looked forward to.

Alpha lucked out and were able to bus it back home, but only after retracing our hump route back to Rilea and then one last drive through Astoria.

Look out, One Eyed Willie, the Marines are in town and giving you a run for your money.

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