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Headmaster Steve Mckibben's Reflections

Public vs. Private
Security and Safety
My Paper Route
Expecting Graduation
Children Are Not Your Friends
Losing Students
Mom and Mommy
Arts and Education
When Lilacs Last in
    the Dooryard Bloom'd
Milk Connoisseur
Sheryl and Dr. Seuss
Mandated Reporting
Telling the Truth
Surrounded by Fiction
World of Snow
Seeking Wider Audiences
Getting Old (or even older)
Time as an Absolute
Holiday Confusion Resolved
Money, Religion, Sex, and
    Christmas Trees
Narratives and Covenants
Thanks(you)giving
Education and Freakonomics
Innovative Student Leadership
Humanity Amongst the Horror
The Best We Can Do
In Praise of Football
Efficacy vs. Self-Esteem
September 11th Reflections
Kindness, Respect, Trust
Potential of the Beginning
Empty Hallways
Mowing My Lawn
Laryngitis & Listening
Making Mistake after Mistake
Hoop Camp
Teacher Dreams
Fingers Crossed for Graduates
Raising High the Flag
Multiple Intelligences
The Best of Spring Break
Vermont Frost Heaves
Common Riting Errors
Dressing the Part
My Mentor
Boys, Girls, Students
College and Athletes
School as Straightjacket?
The Shaming of America
Good vs. Great Teachers
Goodbye To Doc
Ideal IV for Family
Empty Minds, Empty Calories
Observing Classes
Servant Leadership
First Do No Harm
School Choice
Hood Hero
Homework
Literacy
Doing Good
Respect and Discipline
Makings of an Educator
Milk of Human Kindness

Money, Religion, Sex, and Christmas Trees

"It all boils down to money, religion, and sex."

This is what my grandfather told me when I informed him that I had met someone with whom I was going to spend the rest of my life.

He figured that if a couple could agree - or even agree to disagree - on these three subjects, they would stand half a chance of nurturing an enduring relationship.

He advised that couples should always keep a portion of their finances separate so that each could enjoy some financial independence: "Get a joint account to pay your bills and split the rest 50-50."

Religion, on the other hand, was something that a couple didn't have to share: "Let her be. God'll understand."

And a couple needed to figure out sex. My grandfather's advice was "Have it . . . when you're married."

My grandfather was a sharp man and married to my grandmother for well over 50 years, and I have taken his counsel to heart . . . well, almost all of it.

These days, my wife and I share our finances, and we have separate accounts. I don't have to ask permission to buy a chain saw, and she doesn't think twice about buying yet another pair of pointy-toed black boots.

We've come to agree that God understands most things, so there's no point in trying to fake it. We just try to be and do good most of the time.

And as for sex, well . . . let's just say that we followed some of his advice.

However, as much as I appreciate my grandfather's wisdom, now that I am older, I find that he left out an absolutely essential subject with which couples must come to terms in order for their relationships to thrive, a topic that has precipitated many a heated argument and come perilously close to fouling many a Holiday.

I am speaking, of course, about the annual ordeal of choosing a Christmas tree.

For the past two weekends, I have been working at the local Rotary Club tree lot selling Christmas trees. 100% of our proceeds go to local charities, and we Rotarians volunteer our time to staff the lot. You may have even seen us there in the Raley's parking lot hoisting trees onto SUVs or, more likely, eating donuts while huddled around the burn barrel.

The Rotarians offer three distinct species of Christmas trees - Noble firs, Grand firs, and Silvertips (also known as Red firs). The Nobles are winter holiday classics; a beautifully proportioned tree, they range between 7 and 8 feet and boast a bluish-green color. Grands tend to run a bit smaller, are darker green, and are a fuller, rounder tree. Finally, the Silvertips have much sharper grey-green needles, fewer branches, and come in heights between 4 and 8 feet.

The Rotary Christmas tree lot is a community institution, and we attract a wide variety of locals and visitors brimming with Holiday good cheer . . . until they discover that their partners have radically different ideas about what a Christmas tree looks like.

Suddenly the mood quickly sours: husbands scoff disgustedly, wives snort derisively, and one is sure to point out that they don't want a "Charlie Brown tree." Then they split up, each faction determined to identify the perfect specimen of tree that fits their Christmas vision. They drag trees into the aisles and walk studiously around, studying them from every angle. Then they call over their partners, and the haggling begins in earnest. Arms are folded, eyes are rolled, and exasperated mutters can barely be heard.

These arguments are most vociferous amongst younger couples, those who have yet to master the marital arts of paternal (or maternal) condescension, benign neglect, and passive aggressive resistance. There are only two outcomes to these spats: the couples stalk from the lot empty handed, or a tree is chosen albeit with much protestation and promised recrimination.

Older couples tend to be more subtle in their antagonism, and often one will make his way over to the burn barrel, accept a donut, and wait dutifully until his wife has chosen her perfect tree.

So come on by the Raley's parking lot and pick out a tree. While the Rotarians on duty may not be able to give you lasting advice on money, religion, or sex, we definitely can provide a Christmas tree that will satisfy at least one of you.

--Steve McKibben
12/17/06