I grew up in a fake Christmas tree family. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, the whole deal. The day after Thanksgiving, we dragged the same dusty, beaten-up box down from the attic, masking tape holding it together, to pull out our tree. This was the ’80s, so pre-lit trees weren’t an option, which meant we always pulled out a few boxes of tangled lights as well. Then as a family, we spent hours bending each branch into shape, assembling the tree, checking the lights, and setting up the stand.