Local politics, the county, and the world, as viewed by Tammy Maygra
Tammy's views are her own, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Bill Eagle, his pastor, Tammy's neighbors, Earl Fisher, Betsy Johnson, Joe Corsiglia, President Obama, Tony Hyde, Pat Robertson, Debi Corsiglia's dog, or Claudia Eagle's Cats. This Tammy's Take (with the exception of this disclaimer) is not paid for or written by, or reviewed by anyone but Tammy and she won't take crap off of anyone.

One of my fondest memories is going to grandpa's house with my dad, mom and brother. We would talk grandpa in walking up into his woods and cutting a tree. If there was snow on the ground which there usually was. My brother and I would run ahead and hide in the bushes and either launch snowballs at dad and grandpa or we would hide behind a tree and have the limb pulled back and we would let it go so the snow would fling on to them. Grandpa would laugh and dad would launch a few snow balls back at us and once in a while grandpa would join in as well. We would have a great time.

We would make our way up to an area where the fir trees had re- seeded themselves and we would start the search for the perfect tree. We would spend an hour debating on which tree would be the best. We had to make sure that it was not too big or not too small. And of course which one mom might like best. Mom usually stayed at the house and visited with grandma. After careful thought and several arguments we would end up with our tree. Dad would cut the tree down always careful not to leave a stump above the ground, don't want to trip on it next time he would say.

Then we would begin the trek back to the house. Dad and grandpa would lead the way and my brother and I would carry the tree butt end first, I always got the little end since I was the littlest. We would talk the entire way from the woods until we got close to the house then we would holler for mom and grandma to come take a look.

Then we would go into the house and get warm by the wood stove I can still remember the wonderful smell of grandma and grandpa's house. Grandpa would tell me to take my gloves off and throw them on the top of the stove to dry and I did one year I left them on too long and they got burnt stripes on them from the grates on the stove and boy did they stink.

Grandma always had fresh pies. She would give us pie if we wanted it. Grandma made the best pies and she called grandpa "pie face" because grandpa loved pie.

As I look back and compare our tree with the trees from a Christmas tree farm which has been expertly trimmed I can see that our wild tree might not be the Martha Stewart of trees but to us our tree with the droopy limbs, the tree that was not bushy or had a flat side or uneven limbs was the most beautiful tree. I can say we had the best tree ever and I would not trade all the fun and loving memories for all the Martha Stewart trees in the world.

This Christmas remember. Christmas is about family and making memories that you can carry with you all through your life. And not how many presents that you get because memories are the best present a person can get. We were lucky to have such loving parents and grandparents I have a treasure box filled with wonderful memories.