The great Hawai'i Christmas tree shortage of 2009 was caused by the across-the-board assumption that because the economy is in such tough shape, folks wouldn't be buying Christmas trees this year.

What a sweet and amazing thing to see that assumption proven wrong.

No Christmas tree vendor wants to err in the other direction and have a forest worth of Noble firs left over on Dec. 26. But this year, the Christmas spirit in the Islands was far underestimated. There may not be much to put under it, but people want a tree anyway.

To be sure, it hasn't been all good will toward man out in the tree lots. Everybody has heard stories of the prepaid Christmas tree that was resold to the first guy who came along with a wad of cash. Or the rising prices and tacked-on costs ("Want me to trim the stump? That'll be extra.") And of course the occasional , "Eh, buddy, das my tree" beefs.

Part of the equation is how domesticated and unimaginative people have become. We've bought in to the idea that a Christmas tree is only real if it was grown on the Mainland, smells like a Glade candle and is purchased from burly men in a crowded parking lot.

We'll happily sing about one mynah bird in one papaya tree but we don't want a local grown version when the Mainland imports are so much more official, as though Santa himself grew them at the North Pole rather that some guy named Rob who lives outside Eugene.

What happened to Noble pines cockaroached from plantation windbreaks or an ironwood branch stuck in a bucket of sand with a couple of red ornaments on the saggy branches? We've forgotten how to make do with what we have, to improvise with egg cartons, popcorn and tinfoil on a potted plant, which is sad because those cobbled-together make-do Charlie Brown Christmas trees are the ones you remember your whole life.

Nobody really remembers the homogenous bought-tree with all the perfect store-bought ornaments that are the same year after year. But the goofy guava branch tree adorned with Mama's old earrings from when she used to go disco dressed like Jody Watley in the '80s will be recalled with fond laughter and a kind of pride for generations.

Still, standing in a long line in a shopping mall underground parking lot just so that the kids won't be disappointed is a sweet, though modern and urban expression of the spirit of Christmas. It is a testament to the heart of our community that, come what may, some symbols of home and family are worth the wait and the hassle.