“Lying flat on my back in a hospital bed, covered in sap and bleeding out of my forehead, I don’t feel very Christmasy. I feel concussed. Even still, I can’t help but think about Christmas, the holiday that has been my daily reality for two years. I’ve worked spring, summer, fall, and winter for Santa Claus — or, rather, for a man who looks exactly like Santa Claus, and possibly thinks he is Santa Claus, and is, fittingly, one of the top sellers of Christmas trees in New York City.” By way of Epic Magazine and Curbed, Greg Walsh shares the weird, entertaining Secrets of the Christmas Tree Trade, that include turf wars, protection money, and Scientology. “After what seems like a long time, a nurse approaches my bed and examines the wound above my right eye. She picks a pine needle out of my hair and asks, ‘What on earth were you doing?’ I tell her I was selling Christmas trees and things got out of hand.”