O Christmas Tree

Dear Christmas Tree,

You bring so much joy to so many hearts... the glow, the ambience, the playing with lights and subtly cursing under our breaths until we pack up and head to the hardware store for six completely new strands.

And we haven't even mentioned your topper. Since we live in the South (and I mean nothing hateful by that since I was born and raised here) I've seen all kinds of creative toppers. Beer bottles, empty cans of mountain dew, and my personal favorite -- the singing bass fish. I can't help but feel a little sorry for you, oh Christmas Tree.

(Now would be the time to insert that my mom never topped our tree with any of the aforementioned items... at least if I still want Santa to visit with anything other than hate mail.)

I thought I'd seen it all until last week, when I read about a woman who topped a tree with something exceptionally creative -- herself. She was driving along route 68 when her car hit a another car, a guardrail, and a pole -- launching the woman thirty feet into the top of a nearby tree. Rescue workers said the woman waited for help calmly until she was rescued. Still, she faced several citations for her accidental tree-topping.

Personally, I think I'll stick to decorating you at home, O Christmas Tree. I'll probably top you with something traditional, like a star, or an angel, or a singing bass fish.

Do you think Santa gives citations for illegal tree-toppers?