The year after the Hanukah tour it was relatively easy to prevail with Christmas-like concepts. I’m not sure my arguments were necessary but I voiced them anyway.

First I suggested to Mom that we save the presents for one day instead of spreading them out over eight. Same number of gifts either way, I stated, but when they’re doled out one-a-day we have time to weary of yesterday’s by the time today comes; if we got to open all eight at once, we’d enjoy that distracting abundance so prevalent in US culture. Mom smiled and had me repeat my words to Dad. They both nodded in serious consideration.

Then I lobbied for morning instead of evening as opening time. After all, I declared, there’s so little time to enjoy the goods when you don’t open them still sunset and have to immediately interrupt play for dinner. Wouldn’t it be more fun to have a full day ahead in which to enjoy new stuff?

They both indicated agreement with that too.

So I brought it all home. I said if we were going to do eight gifts at once, on the last weekend day of Hanukah, and if we were going to open them all in the morning instead of at night, wouldn’t it be nice to have some season-appropriate symbol about which to set and discover and unwrap the packages? And wouldn’t a small fragrant decorated evergreen tree suit that purpose well? I knew places where such trees were readily available …

To tell the truth, I was surprised when they went for it.

The tree was more of a bush: about three feet tall and somewhat sparse. Mom only permitted Israel-blue decorations on it (and silver – but no tinsel). Mom experienced some obvious discomfort about the bush; she was obsessive about picking up individual fallen needles, and she often mumbled “never again.”

I have a dim memory of opening many gifts on a morning, near that bush, but I don’t recall the occasion as particularly satisfying.

As far as any of us could tell, there were no adverse consequences. Our house wasn’t cursed and our family stayed well. But we never did Hanukah like that again.