It was 1980, I believe. I was living in my first-ever apartment away from home. It may have been my first Xmas away from living with my parents, etc...
I had decided to get a tree at this little farmer's market at the edge of the town in which I worked, on the way to go home.
I ended up haggling just a little and the guy sold me the last 2 trees he had for about $15. Huge, 9-foot trees.
I tied them onto the top of my 1978 Datsun 510 and drove 15 miles to my town looking like a Russian hayride.
I hauled 1 tree of the stairs to my apartment.
I decided that I would ask my landlord if he wanted a tree.
I dragged the remaining giant tree through his courtyard and pounded on his door.
The whole family was actually in the foyer when I knocked and dad opened the door and peeked out at me, startled.
"Do you happen to need a Christmas tree?" I asked.
His name was Mike. Mike Brown. He and his wife were hippies. His children were named Amber, Heather, and Dusty Brown.
Mike looked at me and said "We were just standing here telling the kids we could't afford a tree this year". (He ran a natural foods store and didn't make a lot of money doing that in dinkytown.)
"Well, you can have this one" I said. and they accepted it.
A good deed done, I returned to my apartment and began to set up the tree.
But first, for whatever reason, I and my girlfriend at the time dropped some acid and put on all the Robin Trower albums.
it took hours to get the tree decorated, part of the time spent managing pooties which INSISTED on climbing in the tree: I made an anchor out of a big screw and a chink of clothes hanger so they could do their thing and not topple that massive tree.
And after that night, Robin Trower was burnt into my noggin as My Official Christmas Holiday Music.
Enjoy and Happy Christmas Eve.