I was nearly eleven the year I prevailed. I don’t remember formulating my argument, but I do recall presenting it. In a natural series. I started about two weeks before the holiday.

“I love Chanukah,” I said to my parents. “But I wish we got the present in the morning, instead of at night. I really like to light the candles at night, but then we play with the present and by the next day it doesn’t feel new any more. How about if we switch to morning presents this year?”

Dad said that my idea wasn’t unreasonable. He looked at Mom with a grin. Her initial reaction was the expected frown (she was more into tradition than he), but she surprised me: she came around quickly. “Okay,” she said.

Then I initiated the second level. “Cool. But here’s another thing. I love how we get eight presents, but the way they’re doled out, one a day, means each day’s gift is old by the time of the next one. I think it would be interesting to try it with all eight presents at once. Like, on the last morning of Chanukah.”

Again Dad agreed. He thought about it a little longer than the first suggestion, and he and Mom spent some moments doing their face-language thing. But finally he said, “You’re on. This year, we’ll do all the presents at once on the last day.” He looked at my younger brothers, but they were watching TV and not exhibiting a response.

“One more thing,” I said. “Since we’re going to have eight presents each, we’ll need somewhere to put the twenty-four items. I mean, even though some are small, they’ll need a spot. Can we get a little tree? They’re all over the place and they don’t cost very much. We can make paper decorations.”

By now Dad was laughing. Mom shook her head with her face angled down but then glanced at me and smiled. Mom never laughed and rarely smiled wide, but this grin was almost semi-circular.

“All right,” she said. “But if we’re going to do it, let’s do it right. In blue and white, that is.”

As it happened, we came close. We found a well-shaped fir almost three feet tall, and Dad fashioned a simple stand for it. The ball ornaments we purchased were blue and silver; no white was available. My brothers lobbied for tinsel and angel hair, but Dad nixed the fluffy stuff because he said it was dangerous fiberglass. They got a pack of tinsel. Back then tinsel was made of metal foil – not the flyaway staticky stuff of today – and it helped light up the powerless tree.

Our Chanukah bush had no lights or candy canes, but it looked good and smelled fine. We kids liked having the foliage in the family room for a week, and loved opening multiple presents.

Dad seemed to enjoy it too. When we disposed of the tree, Mom said the experience was okay, but made her feel weird. And the day after that she declared, “Never again.”