KJZZ partners with the Arizona Republic to bring you the Arizona Storytellers series. We record the live events and share them with you on the radio. Storytellers share stories about our community or the life events that have shaped them.
Adiba Nelson says Christmas in New York is only magic if you're not poor. She grew up poor in Queens and says the holidays are what you make of them. When she was three, her mom told her that she couldn't afford to buy presents that year. But Adiba's mom was still trying to make Christmas special for her.
A year or so later we weren't as poor — we had our own place but we were still not rich enough to have a real Christmas. Like, we had kind of a Christmas. My mom came to me and said “You can have a tree or you can have presents. Pick one.”
But I'm only child, I want what I want. I said, “I want both.” Mom said, “Pick one.” I said, “I want both.” Mom turned and walked away and I went back to doing what I was doing. But a little while later she said, “Look imma go out to the park, do you want to come with me?” And we're going to my favorite Park in New York City. And I thought we were going to go and play in the snow, build a snowman do some sledding, maybe play on the swings, tire swings, swing till I puke. It’ll be great.
Mom had other plans. We get to the park mom says, “Pick this up.” It's a twig. “Pick that up.” It's a stick. “Pick those up.” Those are branches. I don't know what the hell we're doing but it's my mom's imma do it, right?
So pick up all these sticks, and I’m lugging them home, dragging them like we're about to build a winter house for Big Bird and I have no idea. I have no idea where she's going with this. We get home and I'm not an outdoorsy person. I don't do outside so I just threw the branches in the middle of the living room and was like, “Deuce, you're on your own.” Went in my room, put on my headphones, left Mom to do what she's going to do.
A little while later she says, “Come on out I want to show you something.” I go out into the living room. I’m like, “Ma, what is that?” “It's our Christmas tree!”
Y'all this was not a Christmas tree. My mother — the sweet, sweet Puerto Rican woman that she is — had taken all these branches and twigs and sticks that she made me lug home like it was penance, spray painted them white, put Christmas lights on them, ornaments, red velvet bows, and candy canes and called that a Christmas tree. Now me, being that annoying only child that I was, said, “That's not a Christmas tree, that's a murder tree, You took limbs off a tree and tried to fancy it something. You murdered that. No I'm not having it, sorry.” I went back in my room cuz I was a brat.
It wasn't until I was an adult and I had a kid of my own that I found myself in the same exact predicament that my mother found herself in when I was 3 years old. I had a 3-year-old, I was poor, I couldn't afford presents or a tree. I leaned on my community. And were able to get a tree and presents that year because we were adopted — we were one of the adopt-a-family families.
And I realized then that's what it was — my mom was always just trying to make the magic happen. She's doing whatever she could to make sure that somehow I was going to have something for Christmas. And I think now that I'm a parent I think that's kind of what we do, right? We do whatever we can to make the magic happen whether it's Christmas or a random Tuesday in July.
It's been a few years and fortunately I have not had to be adopted by families anymore and I can get Christmas presents and trees for my daughter. One year I went to Pottery Barn because I had it like that and I went to go get a glorious new tree. I turned around and lo and behold in the corner is a vase with some damn white branches, and some lights and ornaments. And in front of this vase with branches is a sign that says “decorative Christmas tree.” And that sh-- is $200.
Yep, Mom was right all along. It really was a Christmas tree. Thank you.