In 2001 I spent Christmas with my brother, Gary, at our old run down family house in Mansfield, Connecticut. It was the first Christmas I had been there in twelve years. The "tree" was not in fact a single tree but several small trees and large branches stuck in an old enameled-metal diaper pail, arranged as one might a giant floral arrangement to give the illusion of a Christmas Tree. The ornaments were all cut from scrap papers found around the house, coffee filters, newspapers, candy wrappers, what-have-you. The lovely "dog" settling herself beneath the tree was not in fact a true dog but an unusual cross between dog and coyote, sadly sterile and not long lived, but very good natured and well behaved.
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